Home

Home is where the heart is, an old but fitting adage. And yet, dare one ask: where is thou heart? Is thou heart inside you, like a womb or does it reside gently in the soul of another? Where is thou heart, really, when so many of us are somnambulant or worst yet, living in captivity? Shall we agree that we are at our best when we feel at home? This inside out feeling, the feeling of aloneness or oneness with space for another, a welcome guest, a lover or family. Home is a pronounced exhale, the silence of the moon while you weep, the pause between words.

There may come a time when we find ourselves homeless. A migrant, lost, a choice or caught, tossed in that dubious state of in-between. We are forced into motion, we move from one nest to another, we are fluttering outside our cocoon. Some of us take it on with a warrior stance, while others see it as a Columbus journey. Many move kicking and screaming. Regardless of the circumstance, whether you’ve chosen change or not– you find yourself charged with the slippery task of transporting yourself into a different location. The truth is, we know instinctively what is right and what we need because the heart is always precise and telling, however inconvenient it may seem, so you move forward blindly!

And we buckle and bend. And if we are impatient enough we may even distort ourselves with the painful awareness of aloneness, a caricature of such great proportion! Because we’ve forgotten and instead, we settle for a living arrangement. You must never allow yourself to stay in this inexhaustible state because you will certainly turn up empty. Simply put: home can never be experienced as a mere necessity. Rather, it must become a spiritual task, a full-blown coming into being, getting acquainted with your identity.

Where do I belong? one does ask.  And this question cannot be about yesterday or tomorrow, but rather what the present moment requires.

Where do I belong, dear God? Great heavenly God embedded in the true nature of me!

Where will I be love and respond with love? Where will my life be most loving? I so much want to cherish the earth and my soul, I want to bless my whole being. I want to embrace others with kindness and well-being.

I imagine that the question is much less about with whom or for what but rather knowing your heart, knowing that when in place your heart will open up overflowing, budding in the morning and resting in evening.

Nature’s Intention is Always New Life

Spring is here! From my window, I see tree tops blooming. Delicate white blooms that are simple and white, bursting buds from within. There’s green and other soft colors adorning the once gray street. The air is warmer now and moist on my skin. There’s a ripeness and a rightness and I gulp it all in. People are out more now checking things. They’re a little less cautious, daring, see? A faintly urgent smell drifting. I spot a nose out of a mask, ever so gently. A young girl’s arms go free from sleeves. It’s the miracle of nature like every other Spring. But this time, this time, well, it’s really magic, isn’t it? This time, we’re all so very raw and aware of nature’s power.

There’s nothing more mystical and humble than this. Pay attention to Mother Nature’s rising, her gentle reminder that rebirth and newness are built into everything. We’re a resilient bunch, aren’t we, human beings? It’s inside us and outside us, these regenerative cycles of ingenuity.

Go out. Look around. Then look inside and breathe. See? No matter what age you are, where you’re at or the depth of your grief— you have the gift of nature to sprout new wings.

Soles of our feet, soul of society

Our legs down to our feet mark where we stand and where we’re going. The sole is the bottom most layer of everything. It is the place where calluses grow. There is nothing wrong with a callus, only that it is there and it may mean it’s time to move differently.

Smooth the sole. Appreciate the leathery feel, worn over time. Then lift your feet high so blood runs through your body. Your soles are not to be left unattended because they are the foundation of every journey.

The soul of society is like hundreds of soles crossing a border, migrating to new territory, challenging one hundred selves to explore, to better things, for curiosity or to ward off adversity.

The soul of society will always be one hundred plus feet, standing or walking, running or skipping, dancing. The soles of our feet, like the soul of society, feel like a very private matter and yet, our intimate dance moves us universally. It’s like listening to a fine cello piece or contemplating a painting; each born out of one but touching everybody.

I sometimes dream of a body with amputated legs after some undefined war. I wonder how it is that we can learn to survive with such pain, the sole stripped away. Then I’m in awe at how human beings are so clever. We design makeshift feet, we invent technological devices that help us move ahead effortlessly. But what about the soles of our feet? What about the soul of society when the leathery wear and tear have been pulled off and we are left with metal frames, clever gadgets and send buttons? I wonder if we are fully aware of the purpose behind movement and speed and the role of the soles of feet.

Different parts of our mind-body are working. We’re finding that the soul is dispersed evenly. It’s a new revelation, perhaps, for many, that the soul is not bound by the soles of feet. It’s like magic, really. The ability of the soul to morph into anything, so free.

I’m becoming more accustomed to this floating feeling but it’s still scary. Here we are recreating life and our way of living. I do miss standing steadily, even if it is illusory. I massage my soles after running. I love that anchored feeling even now when I know that my feet are growing old and will die.

I will say that the soul of society needs our care and attention. We should treat it like a baby. Our new soles are so soft and supple, unable to stand. It needs nurturing, discipline and a lot of love. We are a hundred plus heart beats scattered about now, but we are one when we are listening.