Although I like to think that my love and compassion extend beyond my immediate physical space, anatomically speaking, my heart is in my body. So wherever I am, I am home.
Where is home for you?
Yesterday, I left home, my adopted home of Guatemala, a beautiful and complicated country, like all countries.
I own (or, rather, have a mortgage) on a house (pictured at left) in south Austin. I lived there for three years and have been renting it out for three years, so it cannot really be considered “my” home at this time.
Right now, I am home, in my childhood home of Round Rock, Texas, the two-story structure my parents have owned since 1989. I am sleeping in my old bedroom, using the wooden dresser and desk set they bought for me when I was eleven, going (all too frequently — one of the worst side effects of embarazo) to the bathroom where I had my first period, and in which I also happened to receive the news a couple months ago that I am pregnant.
Thanks to my enduring yoga and mindfulness practice, I feel at home in my body. I feel at home, therefore, even on an airplane or in a foreign locale. Of course, there are times when I do not feel at home, when I long for a sense of belonging. But those times are infrequent. And when they occur, I breathe deeply, feel my feet on the ground, connect with my heart and relax my face and shoulders.
But now, my body is changing. Will I still feel at home here, as this baby grows and grows? As s/he takes up more space and reduces my cherished lung capacity? Pregnancy, so far, is a huge lesson in letting go of the illusion of control, both physically and emotionally. Fortunately, so far, there is still a sense of home in my body and mind with each precious moment, each delightful day.
What is home to you?
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