I'm revisiting the idea of a sense of place, having just returned from 2 weeks in foreign parts. I had the pleasure of reading a novel set in the village where we stayed in the Outer Hebrides (Scotland) while there - Heartland by John Mackay. The author opens with "This was his land. He had sprung from it and would return surely to it. Its pure air refreshed him, the big skies inspired him and the pounding seas were the rhythm of his heart. It was his touchstone. Here he nourished his soul."

I wonder - does everyone feel this way about home? I recall a discussion in grad school where others described various exotic settings that felt like their spirit's home - high mountains, low desert floors, open meadows - that place of the cosmic exhale, usually someplace they'd visited and felt connection. At the time, I was slightly embarrassed to share that my place of deep breaths is the rain soaked Pacific Northwest, and more particularly, my corner of NE Portland. There are other places that make my heart sing - London & the Lake District in the UK,  New York City, the northern Oregon coast, the Olympic Peninsula... overall, my spiritual home is damp and green. My internal culture is informed by reading while winter rains batter the windows, the delight at spring's first daffodil, summers where I inevitably say, "It didn't used to get so hot!"

I also thought of the culture of our 12 Step programs as I traveled. Each meeting, whether home or abroad, is comforting in its sameness while having a particular set of norms. The meeting I attended in Edinburgh was hardcore.The chair person spoke of "living rough" (on the streets) prior to recovery, and another man's voice cracked with emotion as he shared the day's reading. In each share, gratitude for being alive and sober was the primary sentiment. The English speaking meeting in Reykjavik was a traveler's group, a marvelous conglomeration of Americans, Brits, a fellow from the Middle East, a German and a few Icelanders, several of whom talked about the stress of traveling with drinking friends, their challenges with shifting peer groups, and again, gratitude for being alive and sober. As I sat in that meeting on Sunday evening, I knew that my home group was gathering on Sunday morning back home. I felt connected, and, grateful for our 100's of choices here in Portland, each group with its individual culture as well, whether cerebral, by-the-book, or anything in-between.

I love to travel. It is my thing. And, one of the best parts of going away is coming home. Home to mossy sidewalks (dried up at the end of August), our little garden gushing ripe tomatoes, my dear spouse and our two cats (only one of which is speaking to me at the moment). As I've noted before, stepping out of my routine periodically, whether via a transatlantic flight, a run in the woods, or maybe reading a new author, is a good way to hit the reset button and remind myself both of the glories of this great big world, and the simple beauty of home.

Is your sense of place, your touchstone, related to where you grew up, or someplace else? How would you describe the culture of your favorite meetings?