“I think it’s beautiful the way you sparkle when you talk about the things you love. ~ Atticus
Please take note that I may miss some posts for 4-5 weeks. I am in California helping my daughter who is about to give birth to their third child. With two boys, 2 and 5, she already has her hands full; so, I am doing what I can to help. Of course, fibromyalgia limits what I can do, but I am doing as much as I can. My new g’daughter is due any day and all of us are very excited.
“It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure.” ~ Joseph Campbell
“Do not search for the answer. It will find you in the perfect moment when your defenses are down. It knows where you live. Befriend the question itself. Fall into wonderful not-knowing.” ~ Jeff Foster
Every time that I prepare for a trip away from home, I begin to think about the meaning of the word. In general, the word “home” brings to mind a place where one comes to lie his or her head. It’s a series of numbers above the front door that represents the person who lives there.
Yet, as the time nears for me to begin the thankless task of packing, I realize home is so much more and that I am a homebody from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Even as I am excited to see my out-of-state family, I am wistful leaving my zone of comfort for five weeks.
It is crucial to point out that traveling is one of the things that I would do if I had a bottomless bank account. I’d travel the world and the country experiencing untold beauty and countless cultures. I want to see these things, not read about them.My passport would runneth over with stamps from many country in the world.
Yet, I don’t think it irony that I consider myself a homebody. I enjoy taking any opportunity to spend time that I can with my family. I have three adult children and only two of them live in the Austin area. Even though they visit Texas regularly, I welcome every opportunity to bond with my grands. I treasure this time.
Yet, in my mind, “home” is my touchstone. It holds cherished memories, treasured objects, one of a kind art projects gifts given me over time by my children and grandchildren, and certainty that all is s I fet it. More importantly, coming home is a visceral experience, like entering a much loved sacred sanctuary that you know intimately. Then there are the people whom
Going away makes me remember that this is home and that it will be here when I return to welcome me with open arms.