Two years ago my daughter was Dorothy for Halloween. Boy, was I jealous. She got to wear a pair of ruby slippers! When I was a girl The Wizard of Oz aired once a year on TV. When it came on my family of eight huddled around the TV with our pajamas on, eyes glued to the set. It’s a long movie, so when I was tired, I would hold my eyes open just to watch the end.
When I was in college I spent time reading all 16 Oz books written by L. Frank Baum. I was still recovering from my accident and the fantasy these books offered was a welcome relief from the pain I was desperately avoiding. I didn’t notice that Dorothy was a heroine or that her entourage were symbolic of her journey.
Since then I’ve been traveling my own yellow brick road. Brick by brick I’ve walked as I’ve searched for my way home. I’ve met my inner Scarecrow and discovered my brains – and my wisdom. Like the Scarecrow I doubt my knowing and can convince my self that “I don’t know.” I’ve met my inner Lion and realized my inner courage. After my accident I was quite surprised at my undaunting ability to keep moving and to challenge myself in so many ways. I feel like I’m just meeting inner Tin Man and finding my heart, not the heart that loves others, that heart has always been with me. I’m discovering the heart that allows me to love myself.
Like Dorothy, I find it hard to remember that the home I yearn for is right here inside me. But my journey now is all about walking home to myself, to my wisdom, my courage and my heart.