The Homecoming: Sinking Into the Now

Lately, I have been moving through a strange sensation. I don't know how else to phrase it: it feels as though I am finally coming home to myself.

It seems odd to say. Shouldn’t one already "be at home" within their own skin? You would think so. But it is as if a part of me has been on an arduous, decades-long journey and has only just walked through the front door.

For years, a part of me has lived like a "Scout"—always one step ahead, planning for the next moment, living in the unfolding future. It wasn't running from the present; it was just constantly striving toward the next thing. Always seeking. Never sitting. Never being.

This part of me is brilliant, capable, and hyper-vigilant. It lives in the unfolding future, scanning the horizon, planning for the next moment, and making sure the path is safe. It wasn't that I was running away from my life; it was just that the "meat" of my consciousness was always off somewhere else, scouting the territory.

I was here, but I wasn't filled in. I was a shell waiting for the rest of myself to arrive.

Recently, I’ve felt a profound shift. The Scout is returning.

I can feel that part of me—the part that spent a lifetime chasing the future—finally sinking back into my body. It’s a literal, somatic sensation of being "filled in." There is a density to my presence now. A weight. A rootedness.

I used to think being "present" was a spiritual chore—something I had to practice. Now I realize it’s actually a homecoming. The part of me that spent a lifetime chasing the future has simply lost its taste for travel. It no longer needs to go off searching because it has realized that the life it was looking for is actually happening right here, in the body, in this moment.

This groundedness isn't a backward-looking sense, either. It isn't dwelling on the past, nor is it romanticizing what's to come. It is simply a firm planting. It is the refusal to hide. It is the quiet realization that this moment, exactly as it is, is enough. I am here. Now. And that is enough.

I’m curious—do you ever feel like your "Scout" is ten miles ahead of your body? What does it feel like for you to finally "sink in"?