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“They have no roots”
Once while at a gathering of friends and family, a fellow guest asked where my partner and I were from. Before we could answer, one family member interjected, offering an unsolicited two cents saying “oh – they have no roots.” With the slight bite in her voice and snark in her smile, it was clearly not meant as a compliment. But it jumped from her mouth so quickly that I don’t even think she realized, until it was already hanging there in the empty air, a slight whiff of spite floating around it. I glanced at her questioningly, and, noticing how her words might be perceived, she added, “I mean they travel a lot” in a more reserved tone.
Weird. I felt a mix of emotions coming from that interaction but had no idea how to respond. Why did she feel the need to say that? Was it envy? A sense of competition she felt around this particular person? Judgement? Or maybe even a mask, for some sadness that we weren’t around? I might never know, but for some reason, the strangeness of this moment, and many moments like it, have stuck with me over the years.
Decoupling from the discomfort of others
While some people are attracted to the idea of nomadism, for many others, it’s repulsive. People’s reactions to my lifestyle are often thoroughly revelatory about their own personal desires, insecurities, or belief systems. In any conversation, I usually feel these things quite viscerally. That kind of empathy is powerful, and it was destabilizing for many years of my life. I’ve often felt ashamed, embarrassed, judged, or misunderstood by the exclamations, looks, and other responses people have given me for my apparent lack of “roots.” But why? I’m not a tree, you’re not a tree – why on Earth should I have “roots” in the first place?
I wanted to use my empathy with awareness when I talked about my life with others, not keep getting sucked into what they have going on. Empathy is an incredible source of information, so how could I receive that information and stay in my experience, not getting warped into someone else’s fears or judgements? It was a deep practice of embodiment and an adventure of mental stimulation to understand the nature of the discomfort people brought to me, and get to a place where I could be with it freely.
What does it mean to be “rooted”?
I’ve come to the theory that many humans from sedentary cultures over time became programmatically engrained with a distrust of anything that moves. It can certainly serve as a survival mechanism: “I see something moving there in the woods, can it hurt me?” But then there’s an assumption that creeps in – if something is still, it’s more safe. Maybe because the stillness feels familiar; maybe because we think we can control it.
Listen, plants and trees are awesome. All living things with roots or webs of connections (like mycelial networks) literally, physically in the ground are limitlessly wise, wonderful teachers and companions to humans. We can understand many important ways of existing, relating, sharing and thriving in the study and cultivation of relationship with these beings.
But let’s not forget, as humans, we were born on this Earth with feet.
In all my time gardening and wandering, I’ve come to the conclusion that “roots” are just relationships; not the fact of literally being in one place or with one group of people for a long time – this is an assumption rooted in sedentism. The way to grow “roots” is through presence, intention, and listening… and why should we do that in just one environment? As humans, cultivating deep connection (to place, people, or anything) can happen naturally over time, yes, but the key ingredient is focused attention, not a lack of movement. More on that in another article.
“Put Down Roots, Woman”
Most recently, at an Airbnb, the host was asking how long we’ve been traveling. When I answered “since 2015,” she exclaimed back at me, “Put down roots, woman!”
In that simple, yet oddly directive sentence I could taste the complexity of her energy as if it were a sip of wine. As someone who had lived in one place her entire life, her whole being seemed to ask incredulously, “how can you live like that? How can that be good for you?” Top notes of astonishment, with a round, deep body of horror followed with the lingering, subtle softness of confusion.
The beauty of life on Earth is our perception of time, space and physical matter, which is what creates the experience of movement, separation, growth, change, death and renewal. The truth is, sedentary or nomadic, we all go through these things anyway. Traveling is not so different than living in one place – no matter how or where you live, I believe part of our exploration here as humans (with feet) is to practice developing connections (or growing roots). This is inherently a cycle of life, death, and transformation. And I bet trees would probably tell you the same.
I paused and received her, letting each layer move through my body, heart and mind. I noticed where, in the past, I could have shrunk away, felt defensive or jumped in with something funny to make her laugh. This time, I felt the rich texture of her humanity and let it wash through me, a current on its way to the ocean. When I could feel the sensations dissipating, there was joy in my heart as the perfect words came to mind. I smiled and said to her, “I put down roots everywhere I go.”
Dear Reader…
How do travelers, or the idea of traveling, make you uncomfortable?
What discomfort do you experience, and where does that come from?
How do you stay connected to your sense of safety, trust and security in a changing world?
What wisdom has the discomfort of others offered you?
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