Passport
Once, I left my passport resting
in the drawer of a bedside table
in the place where I was staying,
in another country. I had to drive
through stop-and-go rush hour traffic
to get it back, to be sure I could cross
the border toward home. But now,
I think I wanted to live in that
nameless space for a while longer—
no identity or address, nothing
claiming: This is me. I wanted to pass
as light as a cirrus cloud through the
barely blue northern sky, speaking only
the language of asters, bumblebees
and turkey vultures, reaching out
to touch a tuft of hawkweed seeds
floating in the air beside me, knowing
again how little it takes to remember
who I really am.
Perhaps we travel in order to shed all the stories and identities we’ve accumulated over time. And we don’t always have to go far—sometimes, driving to an unfamiliar town where we are unlikely to see anyone we know can offer us much-needed time in that “nameless space” of permission and freedom. This is one of the reasons my husband and I love traveling to French Canada, driving through that border to enter another world, surrounded by different customs and a language we don’t speak. I recently took a solo trip to Quebec, and relished in those days spent simply existing. But you can imagine my shock and frustration when, on the drive out of the city, I realized I had left my passport in the nightstand drawer of the place I rented—then had to drive back to get it, fighting rush-hour traffic the whole way. Asking myself how I’d forgotten something so essential, I thought it was evidence of just how much I’d managed to shed while there, how little I wanted to present my passport to the border agent again, confirming who I am.
Maybe any time we are able to let go of ourselves for a while—immersed in travel, creative work, or nature—helps us restore our connection to the soul, that truest source of our identity. As the Argentinean writer Jorge Luis Borges once said, “Any life, no matter how long and complex it may be, is made up of a single moment—the moment in which a person finds out, once and for all, who they are.” But I do not believe this moment comes just once for us; I think it recurs again and again over a lifetime, begging us to pay attention to its message: You are not your career, achievements, milestones, or roles. You are something much larger and deeper than any of that. And this is why we must leave our comfort zone at times: it is only in that uneasy, groundless place that we touch on the truth of who we really are.
Invitation for Writing & Reflection: Describe a time when you felt this enlightening, frightening sense of groundlessness. How were you changed by your brush with the timeless nature of who you are at your core? What might you shed and lave behind to stay in touch with that source?
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I’m also thrilled to announce that my three recent anthologies of poetry are now available in one gorgeous boxed set! You can purchase anywhere you buy your books, or receive signed copies from my local indie bookstore, which will ship right to your door.
I love this!