Unalome Journal : The Departure

Have you ever noticed how the meaning of home starts to shift once you truly begin to move?

We are living in a time where we are moving more (and faster!) than ever: switching cities for work, hopping across time zones for a change of scenery, and navigating countries that feel worlds apart from where we started. For a long time, I too thought that home was a set of four walls and a specific zip code, something defined by the furniture I picked out or the key I kept in my pocket. Until I began to actually travel. And while moving from small fishermen villages by the ocean to big, crowded cities, I guess that somewhere along the way, I realized that home isn't a static place on a map anymore. Home had simply stopped being about where I was and started being more about how I can feel at home when I was far away from home.

How could I return to myself?.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the physical objects I carry with me and the small things that ground me when everything else feels unfamiliar.. In my case it means having a tiny corner in a room and that simple, quiet act of unrolling my Unalome towel on a mat. It doesn't matter if I'm in a small, dimly lit apartment or in the overcrowded studio... 

I can’t explain but the moment that fabric hits the ground, the space suddenly, almost magically, transforms. 

Everything starts to quieten down. To become softer. And I usually recognize this as a clear signal that my nervous system is soothing down. It reminds me of something a famous neuroscientist, Dr. Stephen Porges once said: "Safety is not the absence of threat, it is the presence of connection." When we are out there in the world, everything can feel like a potential "threat" to our peace, but these rhythmic rituals provide our nervous system with the cues of safety it needs to regulate. It's about building that connection back to ourselves.

You know right, that sensation when you just got in the safety comfort of your bed and can finally sigh out after a long and stressful day? Well I, and probably many of us as reading this journal, might feel the same when we land on our mat, ready to start the practice. Because it’s more than just an arrival into the space, it’s more like an arrival into yourself…

Of course, somedays you feel your focus to be way more scattered and it takes a while to actually feel grounded. But it always does. And so you know that wherever you are, when you unfold your mat you can just put your guard down. No need to perform or wear a mask, but that tiny space, wherever it might be, it is just yours, and it’s your safe space where you can simply be. In that moment it’s almost as if your mind gently whispers to your body, "Okay, we are here now, we have arrived." 

And if you stop and think about this for a second, we can probably all come to the same conclusion: space doesn’t define the experience… 

You do. 

You are the one who brings the home feeling within you.

When everything around you is in flux, from new languages to new streets and new faces, it’s so easy to feel a bit lost and simply a bit unmoored, right? Like the famous scene of that movie, American Beauty, where there is an empty plastic bag drifting in the wind, almost in a dance-like motion, waiting to see where it’ll land next. Well, just like that bag, when we travel relentlessly we might feel empty, we might feel aimless.

This is why having a practice is so vital. Whether it’s five minutes of deep breathing, a morning stretch, or just the way you prepare your tea, these movements are almost like your anchors. When you can’t rely on a familiar neighborhood, you rely on a familiar movement. Your practice becomes the one thing the world can’t take away from you, no matter what time zone you’re in or what language the people around you are speaking. This reminds me of what my yoga teacher once said: a steady, committed practice is almost like an invisible thread that follows you everywhere you are, in all the seasons of your life. 

We often talk about the departure as if it’s a break from reality, but what if it’s actually a journey within? And that is so because probably, the secret of true introspection is not running away from responsibilities or living a life of constant vacation… It’s about understanding that you are your own sanctuary. It’s a beautiful, slightly terrifying realization that you don’t need to wait to arrive somewhere to feel settled. You can feel at home on a balcony overlooking a noisy intersection just as much as you can feel at home in a cozy cottage on a mountain. The key ingredient is, at the end of the day, simply knowing where to return within yourself, finding that quiet space in your heart that stays still even when the world is spinning at a hundred miles an hour.

So, as we move through this week’s journal, I would leave you with an invitation: try to look at your own rituals. Maybe even write them down if you like. What is the one thing you do that makes you feel rooted? What is that thing that really make you feel like you,  regardless of where you are in the world? Maybe it’s a specific book you carry in your bag, a song you play when you first arrive in a new room, or a way you breathe when things get overwhelming. Whatever it is, cherish it. That is your true home. Because after all, the real departure isn't just that moment when the the airplane takes off or when the car engine starts to work. The real departure is not about leaving a place; it's about arriving at a version of yourself that is grounded, resilient, and really just free. 

This way, it will always be like carrying your roots with you, encapsulated in your breath and expressed through mindful movements.

So, take a moment today to unroll your Unalome towel, take a deep breath, and remember that you are already home, wherever it might be.