Space I call Home.
I can see why a transient existence is appealing to some.
I don’t belong to any space or time or building other than where I choose to inhabit at any particular moment. I can ground myself anywhere I think. Perhaps that comes from the realization that ‘home’ is everything inside me and little to do with brick walls or geographical location. I have a deep sense that one day I will physically arrive at a place and realize that I have indeed come home. Home from another life or realm that I haven’t experienced in this life form. A sense of deja vu or familiarity that I’ll never place for having never experienced it in this dimension. A place so raw and natural in its beauty and inhabitated by awakened people that it’s womb will birth me and mother me all at once. Part of me thinks that might be in a beach house in Mexico… but then again maybe tending to my rose garden in Cornwall (a powerful image I’ve had since childhood).
Maybe nowhere. Maybe I have already arrived home.
Having lived very transiently these past four weeks I have learnt so much about my relationship with and to space. My ability to land and ground myself in sometimes unfamiliar terrain and sometimes very familiar terrain. Week one Dorset, week two Rugby, week three Valencia, week four London. I’m exhausted but it’s an emotional exhaustion… a rite of passage on my spiritual journey. A sensing that I am detaching from all notions of my former identities and childhood memories of home. Growth. Ability to see places from a different viewpoint. Without attachment to what they once meant or could/should mean now. It’s been an isolating experiencing – at times a little frightening as I’ve panicked with the odd feeling of ‘what’s wrong’. That before accepting that everything is indeed right. In the right place at the right time in my life and that my current preoccupations of mind are reflections of where my journey is heading, not of something being wrong.
Home is inside me. When I speak that to myself I feel elation. An aching beat in my heart that permeates my chest. Literally. I’ve woken up smiling these past few days. It’s not in anyone, anywhere or anything. It’s here. Deep in the recesses of my beating heart. So I am safe in the knowledge that as long as my heart beats I will be safe at home.
But there is a calling too to see more spaces and places… to learn about cultures and civilisations… to experience people and their kindness in different forms. But also the freedom to live alone (out of a relationship) and to choose when and where I go. Harder with a child but not impossible, in fact possibly more rewarding. Transient, nomadic existences are probably very enlightening and freeing. Probably a very spiritual way to live. An easy way to give up this sense that we belong within a particular building which we furnish a particular way. An easy way to give up this sense that a particular street is our street or a particular town is our town. I can stand on one side of a border that someone carved out and call myself a Southerner or a Midlander. And yet in fact I am neither. A Brit or a Sri-Lankan. An Asian or a Englishman. A Londoner or a Rugbyein. None of those. In fact I am a spiritual being having a human experience on a planet we call Earth. How humbling and liberating and gratifying to know.
Follow me at www.consciouslyart.wordpress.com (Beauty is Abundantly Everywhere).