What is Home? Where?

by Joanna D.

home

Going home… ur… uh…

Coming to realize this is no longer my life has proven to be exhausting. It’s not the place for me anymore. After being here and not being here and then returning, I see how things have changed and not changed and how I have changed. Touching base with what this place means to me. Meant to me. What I wanted it to be and what it certainly is not, it’s akin to experiencing a death. A part of me is dying. Has died. I don’t belong here. My home, as defined by a previous me, is no longer here.

In fact… it’s not here, or there. It’s somewhere else. And… where is that exactly?

Home? How is it defined? By my things? A kitchen table, a place to put my kettle? Where do I plant my feet and unpack my boxes? I’m not so certain anymore. The physicality of it all must not be the point. It must be inside me. It must be what I have been taught to look for… the Self. The Self? The light supposedly residing inside of me? It MUST be home. Oh, where is it!? Patience… patience.

As I travel I see certain parts of me fall away and others step to the front to guide the process. I see relationships change and shift, grow stronger or turn distant and disconnected. Seeing this ignites the part of me that craves seclusion. Aloneness. Somehow it comes to this now. Be alone. Is that what it will take to find a place of stillness, self-awareness, true consciousness… home? The Self? This aloneness, how deep do I hold it in order to feel home without having one? And what does it really mean to be alone? Truly?

Half of me sits envious of those who have their houses and apartments and their partners and dogs and nine-to-fives and the other half of me is so entirely relieved that I don’t have ownership over anything but my car, responsible only to my study, my practice, my teaching, my teacher. Thankful. The decision to give up the sweet apartment, steady job and leave my family and friends was not made lightly though unfortunately with some naivety. Some tripping and falling has happened. And I’m sure there is more to come. But thankfully, even painful lessons open doors. I’ve been extremely lucky in the sense of human kindness and support and that tells me I’m in the right place. Doing the right work.

And still, as I sit here, waiting on another plane, I miss those who’ve come close to me, miss the things I’ve seen, the places I’ve been and at the same time I look forward to everything I have yet to do and see. I look forward to shedding the weight of longing and finding what I desire to hold inside. Self. After all, everything I’m looking for is here. It’s all right here. Right?