Turtle Medicine: Carrying Home With Us

Today I moved my youngest into his freshman college dorm.

I’m thinking about the word bittersweet.

What a beautiful word that is.

This seemingly oppositional set of qualities: bitter and sweet, held together in a single word.

I might add a few more words to it, making it a conglomeration of tastes in the mouth. A multisyllabic mess of sensation. Perhaps that would be more appropriate.

But for now, I’ll land here.

Bittersweet.

This morning, before driving off with the family for the big move in, I took the dog for a walk in the early morning hour. Along the path, we encountered a beautiful box turtle.

Actually, my dog alerted me to it. He was sniffing and barking excitedly, completely captivated by this small creature making its slow way along the path. It felt immediately like a message or reminder since our upcoming transition was so present on my mind and with each step.

My dog and my son were true brothers. So I paused and considered: I’m sure he’s (the dog) feeling the change too.

What is bittersweet to a dog? I’m not sure.

But there was something about the box turtle on the side of our path—the early morning sunlight, the slight mist of rain—that created the perfect environment for a little medicine moment.

The turtle had retracted into his shell.

Startled?

Tired?

Protecting himself?

I stood there looking at him and was instantly reminded of how we carry our home with us.

Perhaps not quite as literally as the turtle. But all the same.

Home is the space around you.

It is the protective field of love, nurturing care, deep friendship, and embodied memories.

Home is the feeling of being held.

Home never really leaves your side.

Home is a rainbow-infused, light-filled body, colorful and uniquely yours.

Home is the shell on a turtle’s back.

Home is with you, always.

And just like that, the medicine of the turtle landed deeply in my heart.

A reminder, on a bittersweet morning, that leaving home does not mean leaving home behind.

We carry it with us.

And with that, I offered a blessing of gratitude for the turtle, for the medicine, for our dog, for our home and for the remembering.