For the past 3 decades, I haven’t quite felt “at home”. I’ve been moving (or thinking about moving), for most of my life.
When I moved somewhere new, I’d give the place a chance (not for too long, though – I’m a show-me-results-FAST kinda gal) and if my expectations weren’t met, I’d pack up my pots and pans and buy a plane ticket somewhere else. Back on the hunt for that nestled-in, cozy-in-my-heart feeling that only your true home gives you.
The questioning was constant: “Where is MY place? Where is my true home?”
The place where I will (mostly) feel Rooted. Like a tree planted in the perfect, sunny spot.
Safe. Like a hug from your favorite person on the planet.
Powerful. Like a spine whose vertebrae have finally clicked into place, after years of misalignment.
It’s juuust right. It’s home.
And then a tree told me that I was asking the wrong question.
(Sidebar: when you next find yourself intensely confused about what to do, take your worries to a tree – they’re leafy with magic.)
I was fixated on seeing the name of the city or country light up in my mind. I’d pray endlessly for signs to make one location stand out above the others.
Show me a white sandy beach and I’ll know I should be in the Caribbean. Show me a mountain and I’ll know I should be on the west coast.
But in all my anxiety about postal codes, I was… anxious about postal codes. And therefore, missing the kernel of truth underneath my home-seeking panic:
Geography is irrelevant. Your address means next to nothing. What matters is how open your heart is.
Your true “home” is not a physical place. It’s not visible on any map. There is no airport there.
Its landscape lives inside you. Its fields and valleys and rivers and mountains curve through the ridges of your mind and heart. It is the way you choose to view the world, and the way you choose to walk through that world.
Are you open to (and with) love? Then you are home.
But when we’re not at home in our selves, when we’re not grounded in the source of our source, we become anxious about finding it elsewhere. The guy, the job, the shoes, the townhouse.
When we don’t fully recognize the home that is our spiritual being, our human being goes buck wild insane searching for a tangible space to hold onto.
I wrote a few weeks ago about paying lip service to your spiritual faith but not actually fully surrendering to it. Another way to put that is: you talk the talk of being rooted in your faith, but when it comes to walking the walk of deep trust in the invisible home that is always with you, you buckle.
But I can’t see that “home”. There’s no chaise lounge or breezy hammock there. There’s no fireplace or granite-top island in the kitchen or soaker tub or king-sized bed, so no, no, no, that can’t possibly be my “home”. What I really need is a new real estate agent! Or maybe an ottoman?
And so the obsession about the right street address or the right rug rolls on. Because if you’re consumed by these physical details, it’s much easier to distract yourself from the (far more important) non-physical details.
Of course, personal preferences are real and you may very well be better suited for bustling city life or the quiet lull of the countryside. So where you live matters, yes. And it doesn’t.
If there’s one overarching spiritual truth I’ve learned, it’s that everything is true and false at the same time.
Your soul mate will know every texture of your heart. And they’ll never fully, truly know you.
You are abundant beyond belief, right now. And you have absolutely nothing.
And consciously choosing where to plant yourself on the planet is an important decision. And it doesn’t matter one bit.
All at the same time, these apparent contradictions equal each other.
“Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place.” – Rumi
If you often feel out of place, like the odd bird out in most situations, and you regularly walk away from the conversation, party, or meeting, feeling dissatisfied, it might mean that you need to find a new partner or circle of friends, or job, or move to a different city. Sure, it could be that.
Those might be the masks that are camouflaging a deeper truth. Maybe your craving for “more” isn’t about a new paint color for the foyer.
Maybe what you’re craving is the holiest of needs: sacred nourishment + divine companionship.
Maybe it’s an invitation to receive the highly portable and ever-present sacred connection that is always available.
If you allow yourself to receive it (that’s all you have to do: allow it)… If you devote your spiritual practice to that… If that “home” becomes the queen of your heart and mind, well…
You will have found your truest lover.
You will have found the snuggliest couch to curl up on.
You will have found a tribe of sisters + brothers who see you more clearly than anyone ever has.
You will be home, no matter where you are.