Home again....

"In a world of such beauty as birds in flight, surely I can come to feel at home again, even after my loss." ~ Martha Whitmore Hickman

A "home" is where a family lives - it is where people commune to celebrate, to mourn, or simply to just be together.  "Homes" are full of families - like the one I used to have before my daughter died, taking so much of me with her.  But, that is the traditional/accepted meaning of home - I don't think it is the REAL meaning - the one that our hearts use to define home.  In my home, in the homes of others, standing in the middle of the street - for the last three years, it has not mattered where I am - I have struggled to feel at home. 

I have struggled to feel at home again since Tasha died -  it is often like my skin no longer fits my body - but, everyday, I try to make a few alterations to get it closer.  It will never fit like it did before - it is a garment of imperfection.  But, it is mine and in every imperfection, there is a memory of the very special girl I lost. 

We have made the decision to live overseas for a while.  And, it is funny - I feel more at home here than I did in my own home.  Perhaps because it is simpler - there are less reminders.  All in all, there is just less STUFF!  Without trying to, we have been living a very simplified life.  I am no longer surrounded by my things - by a to do list - or by people needing my time.  My brain, for the first time in over three years, is slowing down - I have had fewer nights of insomnia - and, although I have not been as consistent as I would like with my meditations, when I do it, I am finding it easier to focus - easier to clear my mind.

No, it is not perfect and it is not a permanent solution.  But, it is the space I need right now - as I have been at a standstill in the rebuilding of my life.  I have not made any earth-shattering decisions YET - but, I know that I am more ready than I have been to make those decisions.

 

I am learning that "home" is not the house I live - it is not the city, the state or the country.  Home is where I am - it is a state of acceptance.  It is the acceptance of all my flaws and imperfections - it is inside, where I learn to make peace with the past and the decisions I can not change.  Home is in my heart, where my daughter continues to live.  Whether I lay my head on the best pillow in the world or on a park bench, I am learning to be at home with myself.   

 

 

NAMASTE...