March 6

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When Home Feels Like Being in a Strange Land

By Adela Rubio

March 6, 2016

Morning Musing

The idea of home has been a recurring theme for a number of years. The more I explore my inner terrain the more I recognize that home is not what I thought it was. It's not a cozy little cave where I find my respite from the world. The moment I lost my physical home 3 years ago, it became crystal clear that this sense of belonging, safety and comfort was only tangentially rooted in my physical home.

My gypsy-like adventure has shown me repeatedly that the elements that embody my sense of home are more inner qualities than physical things. Interesting that today's journaling highlights this very experience.

Home is not a physical place in the outside world,
but an inner quality of relaxation and acceptance.
~ Osho

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Morning Musing

No matter where I go lately, there seems to be so much noise. Whether it's the incessant surface chatter of cautious conversation, the never ending noise from pinging cell phones, honking horns,  or droning television commentary … There is so so so much noise!

Am I getting even more sensitive than I already am? Am I no longer willing to dumb down my nature so that I can relate to others in my immediate world? Is either/or the only recourse?

The context is still unclear.
My body feels expectant
as if I'm readying for a race.

My body is poised
my sensing on high alert.
No danger,
just exquisite anticipation.

It reminds me of childhood,
sleepless nights before a trip
to the beach.
Relentless excitement.
So rare. So real.
Finding it's way to me.

It's not so much a leap, as a dive.
An immersion into sparkly depths,
reminiscent of a worm hole.
I arrive in a foreign galaxy that
feels frighteningly familiar.

Perhaps this is the quandary:
the futile search for
home amid the loss
highlights the ache
to find a place
that is not here.

I'm a stranger in a strange land.
Memories echo my weary resistance.
Yearning for home is a hopeless habit.
Maybe home is honing in on me.
Finally, I'm almost found.

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Every time I re-visit the theme of home it still feels like I'm losing layers of an old friend. Just like that tattered shirt you sleep in because it's so worn and soft and seen so much. Every time I trip the light fantastic with home a little more falls away of what I thought before.

Home is not outside of you. It lives within.

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  1. I feel home is a place in my heart–a room made new–sometimes daily or hourly. The finding home is when we are home in that home within.

    I’m proud of you my friend.

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