They say home is where the heart is, but that’s not the full story. Sometimes my heart is in a million different places at once. My heart can be fickle and scattered, caught up in a nostalgic memory from childhood, or reminiscing about my dad. But none of those things anchor me to the present and provide me with the feeling of home.
I have learned to find home in the things that make me feel safe.
Home is in my ability to recreate nooks of safety.
Safety is in being near my partner.
In Thailand, safety has been having a place to watch the sunset every night if I choose.
Safety is having access to an abundance of green space to ground myself.
Home is also in my routine.
I feel safe when I get up early before sunrise, light a candle, and speak to my ancestors. My sense of home lies in these moments of my day to day practice.
Lately, I have found a sense of home in having hope.
My hope is that no matter where I am physically and regardless of what is happening in the world, that I can keep my small rituals and routines, and that I can continue to create safety for myself.