bringing all of our senses to this moment?
A white flower in the cemetery. To know me is to know that I love to walk in cemeteries. I, the girl who seeks out beauty around every corner, who imbibes the warm glow of optimism, who dwells in life’s abundance. I. love. cemeteries. I find their existence a...
As the season of winter came into full view this month, I found myself quietly hunkered down in our new home, taking refuge from the cold, rainy days that had fallen upon us here in northern California. My normally outdoor-loving spirit that craves sunshine and fresh air was strangely content to snuggle up indoors with the lights turned down low and the constant burn of a balsam fir-scented candle beside me while I worked. Soft piano jazz streamed from speaker system for days on end. I had the heater running far more often than I want to admit. The lure of hibernation never felt so good.
What does it mean to be home, to feel at home, to have a home? I have thought a lot about the concept of home in recent months as I have sought, with the intensity of a scouting leader undertaking a harrowing expedition into unknown lands, to find a home of my own, of our own, in the Bay Area. Or perhaps more specifically, to find a house, a piece of land and a comfortable dwelling, that I and my husband could “forever” settle in and call our own.
I realize, whenever I look up to the mountains, to the trees and the sunshine, when I attend to the silent and not-so-silent natural world outside the boundaries of my self-contained body, new perspectives come to my mind. The swirl and sideways bends of the life that I inhabit almost seem to subside like calm winds after a storm. I am reminded that there is something beyond that which I perceive, a greater spiritual force at play in the world. And I am at the mercy of it.