The journey back home

When Yahli, my son, was a little boy, he would occasionally say, "Mom, I want to go home." Yahli, I would answer him, we're already home. I understood then that there was something beyond his words, but I wasn't sure what he meant. In recent years, I've been reminded of his desire to return home, this longing for home, which is actually the longing for ourselves. A longing for a place of peace and quiet. It's hard to describe this feeling in words, the closest thing we can get is perhaps the feeling we have when we arrive at our physical home after a long day of work or a road trip. We open the door, take off our shoes, take off our outerwear, take a deep breath and relax into the silence. A moment of breathing and space.

In recent years I have been on a journey home, a journey to a place that was always there, but I abandoned it, probably quite early in my life. The ongoing discovery is of the space within me, a space of peace. Gradually I am discovering that this place within me can exist, regardless of external circumstances or where I am physically. For me, it has been learning to turn the heartbeat inward. Long months of conscious breathing into the heart are advancing me towards permanent residence in the temple that has been abandoned for so many years. It is a heart that no longer seeks comfort, pain relief, recognition or approval from anyone or anything external. A heart that does not seek to take anything or receive anything from anyone. It is like meeting the world from a place of neutrality, without wanting anyone or anything to be other than they are, or than they appear to be. A journey of parting from the thought that anything or anyone external can free me, give me freedom or security. It is only I who can give myself the home within myself.

On this journey, I am constantly being asked to come closer to my innermost and deepest truth. It is not easy because throughout my life I have learned to hide it, not only from others, but also from myself. The thought or belief that accompanied me was that if I spoke it or acted on it, I would have no place in the world, I would not truly be able to be. That I am loved on the condition that I meet the expectations of bottomless giving. On the journey inward, I am asked time and again to cultivate a willingness to give up everything, truly everything. The need for love or approval from outside, the need for certainty, the need to be something or someone in this world. It feels like big concessions, but I discover that these are not concessions at all, because there is nothing to really hold on to. Absolutely nothing. Any hold on to something external turns out to be a barrier to that feeling of home within myself. Whoever you are is enough, you are good just the way you are, just as you are. It is difficult because I have learned that in order to be good, I must take care of everyone.

As life went on, the need to give was joined by the need to right wrongs and change reality. Which, of course, turned out to be an impossible task. The journey is toward accepting reality exactly as it is without wanting it to be anything other than what it is. There is humility in accepting fate as it is. I can't really control other people's behaviors and I can't really change anything in the external circumstances of life. This includes agreeing to accept this moment when some people are better off and some are worse off, some have plenty of food and some have nothing to eat, some die and some are born, some fall in love and some have their hearts broken. To agree that there are wrongs and injustices and that life is not fair, sometimes even to me. My journey home goes through the need to get rid of the need to take care of others, the need to correct those who don't always want correction, and to get back to myself. You can't do this without learning to calm your nervous system, to sit with the emotions that we usually run away from, to agree to feel what is asking for space. At first, it seemed to me that it would never end. Every time I allow myself this space, I emerge from it a little more whole, a little more peaceful. Every time I breathe with awareness of my heart, I inhabit the house, the temple within me, and I draw closer to myself, to the possibility of peace within me.