The truth is that, with all my Earthly wandering and wondering, my deepest longing is to find is a place I can call ‘home’. The concept of having a home, feeling at home, and ‘home’ as a safe space has always been challenging for me. It’s one of the wounds I have to unravel in this lifetime rooted in a childhood where ‘home’ was a place I wanted to continuously escape.
I’ve found ‘home’ within of myself. I feel so anchored and safe and supported as a human being in the world which makes it easy to flit around. My body is my first and primary home. And I’ve created many ‘homes’ for myself.
Slowly and slowly… my time in each place is extending as my nervous system is recalibrating into deep relaxation… and I am finding myself yearning and longing for a sense of having landed in a place that holds my body and trinkets and love.
More recently, two years in Mexico. And now 18 months in Brighton. It’s been sweet, this little home of mine. Safe, gentle, calm, easy. But the blood in my veins and the marrow in my bones is begging me to continue inquiring. This is not it. I hear the winds say.
At the close of September before the cold weather drapes us in its shrouded darkness again, I am away once more, seeking a place that fits like the glass slipper in Cinderella.
I’m manifesting landing in a place that has:
≋ tall pine and eucalyptus trees, sweet grass and wildflower meadows, rich dark soil, salty ocean waves and spray ~ where there are more sunny warm days than there are cold ones
≋ people with an inclusive narrative that recognise and assume their own growth and healing being as important as the work they do in the world ~ where community, creativity, joy and play are valued as much as individual productivity and prosperity
≋ a culture that affirms and supports the rapid evolution of the living being that is life, breath by breath, through its laws, structures and measures ~ where we can grow together
Maybe that place I’m looking for is not one place. Maybe it is scattered like a splintered society across many cultures and places. Maybe that’s why I move around finding pieces that I like and holding them close until it’s time to go again. Maybe it’s that what I’m looking for doesn’t exist yet and I’m willing it into being with my seeking.
Maybe is ok.
Maybe is enough. For now.
I am giving myself 3 months to allow life to guide me to the place and spaces I’m meant to be in.
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