Who Says You Can’t Go Home…

Once in a while I get wistful for the beauty and landscape of the Northern shores of New Brunswick. I’ve always fancied it as something of a shame that one never truly comes to appreciate the beauty and splendid of one’s own home until they’ve been gone from there for a period of time. For myself, I left New Brunswick in my late 20’s with my intent being to build a future elsewhere. When I consider New Brunswick, I recognize that there is very little prosperous economy there and the medical system is quickly becoming one of the worst in the country.

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that, every time I go home, I’m taken by the open water, rolling Appalachian mountains and temperate climate. It’s something I don’t seem to remember noticing when I lived there. And that’s where the shame comes in. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to recognize that I should repeat the mistakes of others. After all, four out of seven of my mother’s siblings have spent their lives away from the Maritimes, only to return upon retirement because they could no longer stand to be away. I should have spotted and learned from that. But I didn’t.

Every time I travel back home, it takes my breath away. This always seems to be counter balanced with the fact that I’ve been spoiled by living in larger centres. Living in an area where I have almost immediate access to anything that I immediately require or want, at the drop of a hat. When I travelled to New Brunswick with my family last September, I quickly discovered this wasn’t the case there. In fact, we had evenings where we had difficulty arranging for dinner for all of us. It cast a bit of a shadow on an otherwise pleasant trip. That and, you know, NO one acknowledging we came home and no one coming out to visit. But that’s a different story.

My point is, when i lived there, I never noticed such shortcomings. I was happy with where I lived and where I was. Since life only moves forward, it makes sense that I would have sought out a career and life path that would give me the best possible opportunities. But doing so has skewed my perspective on what’s important in making a home. And that’s something I need to recognize and adjust within myself. It may be an important lesson to consider that it’s important to appreciate what we have and where we are in life. Doing so may lead to better happiness. Food for thought… ☯️


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I am a practitioner of the martial arts and student of the Buddhist faith. I have been a Type 1 Diabetic since I was 4 years old and have been fighting the uphill battle it includes ever since. I enjoy fitness and health and looking for new ways to improve both, as well as examining the many questions of life. Although I have no formal medical training, I have amassed a wealth of knowledge regarding health, Diabetes, martial arts as well as Buddhism and philosophy. My goal is to share this information with the world, and perhaps provide some sarcastic humour along the way. Welcome!

2 thoughts on “Who Says You Can’t Go Home…”

  1. I found the best option for me was on the smaller side of a “mid-size” town. The place we’re currently at has a population of 250,000. Places close earlier than in California, and quite a few even close on Sundays (unthinkable in Cali). You learn to adjust your shopping habits, and grow to appreciate the greater sense of calm that never comes with a big city.

    We almost moved to a much smaller town (only 4000 people), but as the story of our house goes, we ran into the stereotypical problems of small town corruption and no accountability there. NOW, I’d sooner live in New York City. At least you know who the crooks are there.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s roughly the population of Regina (where we currently reside) and I find that we have access to what we NEED when it’s necessary. If our week gets busy and we forget to grab groceries, we know we have the option of either ordering out or hitting up the grocery store. My home town in New Brunswick is roughly 3,000 people and they essentially roll up the sidewalks around dinner time, which makes it nearly impossible to accommodate tourists or even permanent residents in certain circumstances. My wife and I lived in a small community of about 700 people when I was still with the Force and I totally hear you in terms of the small town aspect.

      Liked by 1 person

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