Homeless Sweet Home

I have spent roughly a third of my life in each of three vastly different geographic regions and cultures, changing houses frequently.  This has shaped the way I view the world and people.  Though my country of origin still has the deepest emotional hold on me, nowhere ‘feels’ totally like home.  This causes me to reflect on what is ‘home’.  Eight months ago I sold my house and disposed of all my possessions other than my essentials which fit in a rucksack, giving me the freedom to travel (and change home) at will. At times, this freedom can feel homeless, no roots, no anchor.  But I am exploring redefining ‘home’ for myself.  After walking the Camino de Santiago and sleeping in a different bed every night, the second night in the same room suddenly felt like home.  After seven months away, returning to England, to a different apartment, but seeing friends felt like home.  The modern world of virtual meeting spaces of friends and family may mean that ‘home’ does not even have to be defined geographically.  I think home is where I rest my spirit, where I am welcomed, where I am nourished – for a season – two days, two months, two years.  For me, embracing the transient nature of our physical life on earth demands embracing change and acceptance that every thing is temporary. Not having to carry my home with me but being able to make my home wherever I am is very liberating. For those wandering spirits out there searching for a home, be still, breathe deeply, for in this moment and for this moment, you are home.

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