Home for the Holidays

When I’m in my centered, powerful, vulnerable, open, wise place, when I’m in touch with my values, what matters to me about how I behave, how I treat other people and how I treat myself, then I’m home.  Home base, at home in myself, in the home of the soul, the home that is my body, this body, for this time, now, clear, comfy, easy, alert.  Neither on defense nor offense nor zoned-out, checked-out, just here, living, alive.

When I’m at home the fires can burn and the mountains can threaten to fall and I can love and be loved through it all.  Through the fear and the sadness and the disappointment and the terror I can love and allow myself to be loved.  Even though I’m scared.

Even though I’m not doing any of this life thing exactly how I thought I would or thought I should.  

Even though part of me is so sad and disappointed with myself and with everything.  

There is another part that is thrilled.  That is grateful.  That can feel in the quiet moments between the other moments the wonder of experiencing this experience, with full belly, warm clothing, roof, doors, health care, fluffy bedding.  Clean water on demand, for now.  Utilities.  Netflix.  Books.  Mindfulness apps.  A well-fed cat.  

We are so comfortable.  And we’re here for so short a time.  I know what my purpose is here, now.  What a blessing.  For so long I thought it was so many other things, tried to make it so many other things.  Such a relief to let go of all that stuff and allow the truth to fuel this precious life.  So glad someone told me to give that a whirl, and I heard it.  I’m gonna keep going.

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