Je ne sais quois, shall we say??
I recently recalled a conversation of several years ago a friend and me were having about "going home".
Hmm... Grandma has a fru-fru by the front door that reads, in part, "Home is having a place to stay".
I disagree-- that's an abode. A dwelling. A habitat. A place. Shelter. Dig?
"Home Is Where The Heart Is"?
Well, um... that's in my chest...and I live a lot in my head. [Yes, I refuse to pluralize it.]
I know, I know-- the metaphysical heart; where the "love" is.
Well, I love my brother; he's home! (Or maybe, Saturday, at the grocery store... je ne sais pas...)
And my mom, and my dad, and my son and sister and girlfriends and that weaterpark place and...
Nope. Too many places to call "home" if it is where the heart, the love, is. And the word HOME to me evokes something... deeper, something perhaps closer to that Nietzscheian abyss...
Home... Well, I also keep recalling that feeling come over me the other night, or technically morning when I was out in the garden-- literally; amongst the just-watered plants, listening to the percolation of it, to the frogs, the owl, the crickets, the wind thru the leaves, gazing the glimmer of stars through the drifting clouds...
But... the garden is just a "place" too, really. Like that abode. The difference, I sense...HOME... is that feeling, the perception you get when you are at the place where you have put your hands to work, with loving intent, repeatedly-- oft until they are cracked, calloused, bleeding, raw, and finally hardened by, blended with, the place--
Hmm... It's still elusive, that "home", but...
I've felt elements of which home will eventually be made. I'm collecting them, like so many pieces of metaphysical building materials, and will someday combine the blood, sweat and tears of the Heart with the feel of the right Place to turn them all free to create and prosper...
Be a lot closer to Elysian than to elusive, I ken...
Quilt, Rust Worsted Wholecloth, ca. 1820-40
14 hours ago
Some Poetry for you:
It is not my own, it is the work of the mystic poet Hafiz
All the Hemispheres
Leave the familiar for a while.
Let your senses and bodies stretch out
Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.
Open up to the Roof.
Make a new water-mark on your excitement
Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
Upon our intimate assembly.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
All the hemispheres in existence
Lie beside an equator
In your heart.
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
I like it, Lady Rene-- I like your rundown, Woman. Great balance.
One must constantly search... for hunger is never-ending, so is the hunt...
I think of home as that place where I go to ground when I am wounded...and where I rise up again when I am whole...and where I may be simply myself and it is enough...and where I may shelter those who need it.
It's a haven, and it is definitely an expression of myself, a place of spirit, a place of love and welcome.
Long ago, I wore a pendant that was a charm for travelers away from home. When asked why I wore it, I explained that it was because I didn't know where home was, yet.
Now, I wonder if Home isn't something we carry with us...so that we may make it where ever we come to light.
I've had glimpses...and now live in a place as close to Home as I've ever known. It wants only a few elements...and I can wait for them to settle in to place.
Two posers in a span, Sir - the Muse must be in a fine mood!
Shade and Sweetwater,
How odd is it that I am just now watching a movie called "Where the Heart Is" (always makes me sniff a little, 'cause I'm a big ole girl) and Sister Husband (Stockard Channing, brilliant actress) said "Home is where your history begins; home is where they catch you if you fall"?
I do love synchronicity...
Shade and Sweetwater,
HOME...I don't believe the word home has anything to do with a house, trailer, tent or whatever you may call home. Those are just places you choose to reside.
For me, home is within your being an extension of your soul. Home is where you feel a sense of belonging, security, and caring an all encompassing sense of love and warmth.
I own a house, but if something were to happen to it, I would be fine because it was not my "HOME" I can always buy another house someplace else. My sense of "HOME" is not defined by the material presence of a house, but more by the spiritual feeling from within. As long as that feeling is present, I will always be able to find a place to call "HOME"
If I can sleep, then I'm at home. I can sleep almost anywhere.
...home evokes Heaven,and as i tell my wife,this aint it...but You can see It from Here...lol
Some absolutely beautiful feedback, folks! Slainte, every one of you,and thanks so much for the perspectives...
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