Thomas Wolfe once said, you can never go home again… I think I’ve started a piece that way before but it feels like there’s no other way to start this. Where is home? The ever elusive question that potentially can mean so many different things to so many different people… to some it’s a straw mat on a dirt floor damp from rain water, with barely standing walls and no proper electricity. For others, it’s marble halls and elegant bed linens, extravagance at every turn…. But this just refers to the four walls or more or less that make up where we are physical in that moment… to sound cliché I’d say home is where the heart is… and sometimes that’s wherever you left it.
Finding pieces of ourselves as we breathe… allowing ourselves to day dream and to ask the questions though sometimes tough “what am I doing here” “what is this all about?” how many times can you leave or be drawn to the same place before you ask or answer that question? And for some is it never.
Home… to me has been / is / can be so many places … it means family, it means green trees, days spent beneath cool shade of brilliant green oak trees swaying…in the wind, us moving with them. Home is where my heart is and it begs the question … love…. Is love enough? Was love the spark that ignited us before and that exists still after all of our striving is done? Is love not the most important aspect of our time here on earth, in every moment? And what is love? If to everyone it is different. To me, love is beauty, and it is the profane, it is my teacher every day… the good, the bad, the ugly… the traffic jam, the man without legs who reminds me to be grateful, the days that remind me to be humble, the victories, the anticipation of the first kiss, the soft and sweet little moments, that life sometimes threatens to taint us with.
Love… is my why and it means everything to me, and I feel that it is enough, though I often hold it out and examine it in my hand like a crystal. Here I am, home… in this now moment allowing all of my pieces to fold together through this piece… posing these questions, and that’s all… because someone once told me that sometimes the best message you receive is not an answer to, but a question posed…. So that you can sit back into your soul and have that hot cup of steamy tea and stir in the sugar cubes and lavender petals as you stop and ask yourself….. Home? Love? …what do they mean and where are they to you? What about your future is true, and why are we here now in this moment? Which at the end of the day is the only thing that is real.
The past exists no longer, and the future has not happened yet, so here, in this moment, I am grateful for you, love.