What Place Can Teach Us 🦋

On belonging, lineage, and returning home

My understanding of home has always been layered.

I spent most of my young adolescent years in Guam. I didn’t know much about the island’s history, and I wasn’t curious to learn about it then. As a ten-year-old, my world revolved around being a simple kid — school, swimming, and friends, and by the time I was off to college in California, I was laser-focused on chasing my dream of becoming a journalist and never returning home.

But in 2013, I returned.

What was supposed to be temporary had turned permanent, and no matter how much I tried to leave, the island called me back.

For years, I was angry, anxious, and depressed. I watched my peers live their dream lives in New York City and on the beautiful beaches of Bali, getting married and starting families, globetrotting and starting successful businesses, and I felt completely behind in life.

In hindsight, I think the universe was trying to tell me something: there was still much for me to learn from home.

If we let it, place can teach us about timing.

“Trust the process,” they say.

“Everything is in divine timing,” they say.

The universe has a funny timing of its own, which can be infuriating if you have your own agenda.

This current version of me is still learning how to surrender to that timing. But one thing it gave me was the gift of time. Time with my father and the chance to learn about our ancestral lands through his eyes — and then to see them differently after he passed. Time with my Japanese grandparents, navigating the tenderness and tension of our shared language.

Timing also meant being patient.

If we let it, place can teach us how we move — through physical spaces, within communities, and through our daily musings. It teaches how we thrive. Each version of us gives us insight into what nourishes us and what drains us, and what lights us up and what dims that light. Most importantly, it teaches us to acknowledge what we need and how we can give.

Place can also teach us about lineage. Lately, my coach and I have been diving into epigenetics and how inherited memory shapes the way we move through the world. Memories from our parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents show up in how we feel about food, abundance, safety, and using our voice.

It can also teach us about how we share stories. As a storyteller — which, if you’re reading this, chances are you are, too — there’s a thing called the butterfly effect 🦋Simply put, the butterfly effect shows how a tiny detail can ripple into bigger changes in life, and sometimes it leads you to places you never thought you would go.

Moving back home wasn’t a small feat, but it changed everything. It guided me back to my voice as a Japanese Indigenous writer, helped me peel back the layers of grief I hadn’t yet named, and gave shape to this beautiful space. It helped me tap into my intuitive gifts, foster adult friendships, and eventually meet my future fiancé.

The universe had other plans for me, and it all began with returning.

Would love to know how place has changed you 🌻

Until next time!

With love,
Akina