The day after Thanksgiving I moved from my sister’s house into an apartment of my own. It’s been a whirlwind of activity. I was nervous that it would feel like a hotel. But was pleased to find out that was not the case. While our furnishings are sparse (Kim keeps telling people we have just enough furniture to move us past “squatter” designation), it’s beginning to feel like home.
This, of course, triggered lots of introspective thinking about the concept of “being at home” and the notion of “home” being a state of being rather than a physical place. Was it the furnishings, the fung shui, the physical set up of a place that created that feeling, was it the person I was living with or was it a combination of the two?
When we were apartment shopping Kim mentioned to me that part of the process for him was picturing himself in the space. Could he see himself there. To me, this was his way of listening to that non-verbal, intuitive space where the truth often lies, waiting for our overthinking mind to step out of the way.
To me, home is a place you don’t have to pretend, you can just be. It’s a place you fully feel yourself. It’s a space to both dream into and be grounded at the same time. I think we are forever seeking it, whether we want to admit it or not. For some, it’s a city, like London or New York. For others, a particular canyon or a particular hike. For me, it’s any place I can shed the demands of the outside world and let the quiet envelop my heart, my soul, my mind.
Some people can share that space, others destroy it. I’ve found over 41 years that finding that person who can share and nurture that space is as rare as hen’s teeth. It’s perhaps even rarer than love. You can love someone deeply and still resent the disturbance of your space, but endure it because you love them. Mostly you just endure it because you know no differently. Then one day you meet that person who resonates with you. And your world opens up into something unexpected and new.
Experiencing the peace of home with another is a gift beyond measure. It’s the closest we can get to heaven and still be on Earth.
This holiday season, I wish all of you that peace.