“Home is where one starts from. ”
–T. S. Eliot
I have always found home to be a difficult concept. Not that I come from a particularly unhappy home. For its time in 1960’s and 1970’s United States, I had a fairly typical family life, perhaps more functional and happier than most. Yes my parents were divorced but within seven months they were married to other people.
Due to this restructuring, I moved first from the home I spent my childhood in Connecticut to a new one in New Jersey. A year later we moved again one town over.
This played havoc with my sense of home and for quite awhile I roamed about like a gypsy for the next 3 decades spending anywhere from 3 weeks (my shortest stay) to three and a half years (my longest) with 5 months being about the average.
During this time of instability I felt very rootless. After leaving first my mother’s house (at sixteen) than my father’s (first at seventeen, than at 18) I found pretty quickly that in neither would I ever feel at home again. Not that I was made to feel unwelcome but they were never places I had rooted. It took me many years of searching both internally and externally until I finally gained an idea of what home means, to me at any rate.
Home quite simply means the place I can be centred within myself. Yes, the cliche that home is where the heart is has truth. Except that people tend to look at it in a very two-dimensional sense that it is where you are loved and where you love. In a greater sense tho, I find that home is where I can be loving, I can be centred and I can nurture and be nurtured and finally I feel that I can do this from within myself, my heart centre no matter where I may be located in physical space
I hope to grow to the point where I can do it irrespective of emotional space and mood as well. Namaste, G
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Circles of Inspiration by G A Rosenberg
Reality Check by G A Rosenberg