Finding My Way Home

I love mornings. Before the whole world wakes up and starts making demands, there’s no pull from the outside to leave the comforts of home.

"Home is where I am with you." This quote sits on the wall of my dining room. It’s the first personal touch I added when we moved into our first house 14 years ago. At the time, I meant it for Tony, my husband, and my two dogs, Peanut and Willie. They felt like home, no matter if it was in an apartment or a house. The feeling was belonging without judgment, safety in their presence, ease versus effort. It was comfort.

a declaration of what a home is. it's comprised of who we spend the most time with

I now find home not only in my husband and dogs, but also in friends and even strangers. Most evolved, however, is finding home within me. It is the home within that hums in the background, to which I can return in a world of uncertainty. Like the sound of the waves in the background of our vacation rental, when the windows are open, I hear the water blanket the shores with its familiar rhythm. As I write this, that familiarity grounds me. It is this feeling of comfort, like a big bowl of hot ramen on a cold rainy day, that I love about vacations. It's a return to home within, when there are no dishes to put away, emails to respond to, or appointments to show up for. When all the responsibilities are stripped away from my mind, I can hear the rhythmic sounds of my own being.

Before my inward journey to discover the origins of such sacred feelings, I attributed them to wherever I was visiting. I figured at the time, it must be this magical city, hotel, resort, or piece of dirt someone put a house on. So, I would open up my Redfin app and look to see the cost of capturing this amazing feeling. Fortunately, I had no means to purchase happiness at that time because the reasoning for the property would have been misguided. After all the excitement of new real estate had settled down, reality would arrive with the responsibilities and expenses of keeping up another property. And then the cycle of searching outwards for that open, carefree feeling continues.

Fortunately, finding that space where the heaviness of living in modern society falls away is within all of us. We were all born with it and lived in that state of mind as children. But while growing up, we have lost our way as we seek outwards for comfort. Returning to our inner home, arriving in a place of peace is not easy, as I have come to find out. It's as if the Google Maps back home kept rerouting itself, and unplanned construction and road closures forced me to pivot again and again. Finding my way home took recognition that I was far away from it; my priorities were no longer aligned with who I am, and should I continue on this path, I'll be led even further astray. This acknowledgment came in fleeting moments during the quietness of the mind. It was while I was lying there at the end of a yoga practice, in the early moments of the morning that I allowed time to write, read, or just sit with a cup of tea, on vacations while watching the surf dance on the rocky shores.

It felt unfair and frustrating to have these tiny moments of peace and clarity and then poof! it was gone. I've been searching for that space to return to, at first without knowing it. I just thought, "yoga is great! I can get exercise and also it's relaxing; I love playing in the dirt with plants, it's so mindless; I'm so thankful for having taken piano lessons as a kid, the time on the piano feels effortless; meditation makes me feel like I just woke up from a dream." Just like playing the piano, returning to my inner home takes practice. Sometimes the practice goes well and other times it's disappointing. But the consistency and repetition are what have made the difference between fleeting moments of home to a space that I can return to repeatedly. And also like playing a piece of music or any form of art or sport, there's proficiency, but is there such a thing as mastery?

Do I want a vacation home on the beach, in the desert, in the middle of the woods by a river? Yes, but I know now, I want those because of the tranquility they afford my mind while I am there. Those vacation homes represent an ideal. The same ideal can be had anywhere; it's just more difficult because of the distractions associated with our daily routine surroundings. So, back to the practice: yoga, mindful breathing, reading, writing, playing the piano, playing in dirt, nature walks, grooming my dogs, or just sitting with a cup of tea by myself.

To allow time for things that I had considered "non-productive," I hope will become the norm. Where did this guilt of spending time for quietness come from? Most likely from my upbringing and then later my own layer of unrealistic ideals of being a responsible adult. I used to feel guilty, and to be honest, I still do sometimes, to just sit and watch a movie, take a nap, or repot my plants. However, when the guilty feelings arise, I now feel even more compelled to continue whatever activity I have started, like a child refusing to come in from play. By reclaiming myself, from myself ironically, I have slowed down and redirected my energy to being more aligned with the me that feels like home. I am quick to identify people that speak to my soul and quicker to say no thanks to those that don't. I focus on my health, mentally and physically, not just for vanity but for longevity and function.

Just like a physical shelter is vital for one to feel safe, so is finding the space within us that shields us from the elements. From this place that I've been calling a home within is where I feel safe to be me. The stripped-down, no make-up, not trying to impress anyone or fulfill any sort of role—me. From this home, I naturally act from a place of love and compassion. I see the world as kind and gentle. A home that we are all a part of and hope my family and friends will join me. Because home, is wherever I am with you.