I don’t know. This lone ranger has been a bit of a wanderer most of his life. At the cosmic level, I am a bit like a comet. I wander into others solar systems and move on to the next as part of a bigger journey. I guess it is wherever I am.
Right now I can not say that anyone feels like home to me besides myself. Recently, it is only when I am taking the time to connect with God that I have been finding peace within. The people and places that used to feel familiar now feel more foreign when I am in their presence as a reminder of how far I have grown from being in a traumatic and chaotic environment. I am home to me.
My sweetheart of over 17 years. I can tell it’s him walking toward me from farther away than I can actually see his face.
My younger sister. We were “the little kids” with 4 older siblings and a big gap between (my dad called us first litter and second litter). We have so many shared experiences and memories no one else in the family has.
My sister-in-law in Seattle. She and her house (and the two kitties!) are another home. We became closer after my brother died too young and she’s now another sister. She and my younger sister and I go away on “sisters’ weekends”.
My middle brother and his wife who live in DC. I stay with them about once a year on work trips and their house is a second home for me along with their warm hospitality. I’m not company there, I’m family.
My daughters, grown women now and living far away. When I get to see them, hug and be hugged by them, that’s the home I made. Their father wasn’t a consistent presence in their lives and is now dead, and the three of us are our own circle of love.
My best friend of many years, who also lives far away. We talk at least a couple of times a week, often “going for walks together” because each of us puts on a headset and goes out the door. Our conversations are the kind of things you talk about when you see each other all the time, as if I hadn’t moved away.
Another wonderful friend who lives nearby. She’s the person I could call in the middle of the night if anything happened and she would be there. We’re family for each other.
Of course, my wife Elena is like a
sigh of relief and comfort. But I have
“only” known her for four years, and
I must say, I think it’s important
for me, to feel that comfort within
myself too. The feeling that I am
enough. Not to say I don’t need other
people in my life, because I do, but the
ability to feel contentment in whatever
situation I am currently in, is a
comforting feeling.
Boy did this question send me on a journey…I share what I wrote below!
“If time is my measure, then let me fill it to the brim, pouring out my best, sharing my heart, loving all I can, giving all I have. Let no day be wasted, no chance taken for granted, no moment passed by unseen for the blessing it reveals.”
Steven Charleston
Because I always sense that the Word of the Day is chosen by the Grateful Living staff, to relate to the Daily Question so I checked it out and my reaction was, Say, what??? Who feels like “home” to me?
My immediate reaction was to read the question again. On further analysis I noticed that the word “home” was in parenthesis and the the question posed was not place oriented. It was person oriented. So I started searching for the “Who of Home?”
My parents divorced when I was a preschooler so the “who of home” was my Mom. When both my parents remarried, I was blessed with a kind and caring step-dad and a step-mom that wished I would just disappear. Thankfully, I lived with my Mom and step father.
My first marriage proposal came when I was 18 from a young man who told me he wanted me to be the mother of his children because he sensed that I put my whole self into anything and everything I did. He added, however, that I must understand that men raised in his culture were not faithful. He apparently wasn’t interested in building a real relationship with me. His definition of marriage differed from mine. I was being being evaluated for hire to mother his children and provide them and him the security of a good home. I will say, he was definitely being honest!
I did marry about one year later and codependency kept us together for 35 years. That said, there was definitely love in our home. Both of us came from broken homes and we did not want that to happen to our children. Since my husband developed a drinking problem early in the marriage and we moved around a lot in the early years as he lost job after job. I’m reminded that when someone ask him where home was, he would say, “Wherever Mama hangs her apron.”
Thankfully, our children were in their early 30’s before our divorce took place. During that extremely difficult time, the “who of home” was two dear female friends who were there for me as I grappled to maintain my sanity.
As for my kids, my son rolled with the punches. My daughter reverted emotionally to a 10 year old and took sides. Thankfully a lot of healing has taken place in the last 25 years but my relationship with my grandchildren suffered throughout their childhood and it is only in recent years that they have realized my love for them.
I have been alone for 25 years and lived in several different states. I realize that the “who of home” is always where my heart is. As my mentor told me many years ago, “Carol, you have always been there for you.”
It has taken a life time for me to understand that the “who of home” is not a person or a place. It the space only we can create for ourselves. Our job is willingness. As Barb shared in her post yesterday: “Our authentic self we think we are is actually our coping self.”
I don’t want to cope with life. . That’s an egoic response. I want to be at home here and now. As the Word of the Day reminds me:
If time is my measure, then let me fill it to the brim, pouring out my best, sharing my heart, loving all I can, giving all I have. Let no day be wasted, no chance taken for granted, no moment passed by unseen for the blessing it reveals.”
I have a variety of people I feel are “home” to me.
My immediate family, a group of long time friends, this community, myself, and a spiritual guide. That is to name a few. If I am in an uncomfortable situation and I think “oh I wish ….. was here” would be my brother.
Most of the time, and without a doubt, my husband feels like home to me. When moments of arguments or fights come my home feels less like home, which can be a little stressful. But I know that given time all wounds heal. Another aspect of a home feel for me is my mom and dad and their home. The home I grew up in. It’s always a lot of fun to go back home and visit, share new and old stories, watch dad show us his new magic trick, or to sit for hours and play some board games. It’s a different home than what I have with my husband. It’s like a childhood memory home with mom and dad and a new future home with my husband where we are. If that makes sense.
Without doubt my wife and children are home to me. Larger than my family and myself is the world we have to live and for that I would have to say that the writings of Steven Charleston bring me home.
I am blessed with caring and kind family and friends and enjoy my time with them. Honestly, I am a loner and when I am in my apartment alone, listening to a relaxing CD, it feels like home to me. My answer is that I feel like “home” to me. May everyone have a blessed day. 🙏🧘♀️🌈
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My family, my sisters, my friends.
And myself.
When I feel good, I am at home.
My beloved sister does, dear friends do, and the Sangha I belong to does, you all here, and those who Love.
I don’t know. This lone ranger has been a bit of a wanderer most of his life. At the cosmic level, I am a bit like a comet. I wander into others solar systems and move on to the next as part of a bigger journey. I guess it is wherever I am.
Right now I can not say that anyone feels like home to me besides myself. Recently, it is only when I am taking the time to connect with God that I have been finding peace within. The people and places that used to feel familiar now feel more foreign when I am in their presence as a reminder of how far I have grown from being in a traumatic and chaotic environment. I am home to me.
My sweetheart of over 17 years. I can tell it’s him walking toward me from farther away than I can actually see his face.
My younger sister. We were “the little kids” with 4 older siblings and a big gap between (my dad called us first litter and second litter). We have so many shared experiences and memories no one else in the family has.
My sister-in-law in Seattle. She and her house (and the two kitties!) are another home. We became closer after my brother died too young and she’s now another sister. She and my younger sister and I go away on “sisters’ weekends”.
My middle brother and his wife who live in DC. I stay with them about once a year on work trips and their house is a second home for me along with their warm hospitality. I’m not company there, I’m family.
My daughters, grown women now and living far away. When I get to see them, hug and be hugged by them, that’s the home I made. Their father wasn’t a consistent presence in their lives and is now dead, and the three of us are our own circle of love.
My best friend of many years, who also lives far away. We talk at least a couple of times a week, often “going for walks together” because each of us puts on a headset and goes out the door. Our conversations are the kind of things you talk about when you see each other all the time, as if I hadn’t moved away.
Another wonderful friend who lives nearby. She’s the person I could call in the middle of the night if anything happened and she would be there. We’re family for each other.
Sounds like a wonderful group of connection Barb.
My partner, his family and our family, and my sisters, sister in law and parents
My husband. My sisters and other family. My friends.
Of course, my wife Elena is like a
sigh of relief and comfort. But I have
“only” known her for four years, and
I must say, I think it’s important
for me, to feel that comfort within
myself too. The feeling that I am
enough. Not to say I don’t need other
people in my life, because I do, but the
ability to feel contentment in whatever
situation I am currently in, is a
comforting feeling.
Such a great answer and insight! We do need to be our own first and essential homes.
My husband. My parents. My sisters and brother and their kids.
Boy did this question send me on a journey…I share what I wrote below!
“If time is my measure, then let me fill it to the brim, pouring out my best, sharing my heart, loving all I can, giving all I have. Let no day be wasted, no chance taken for granted, no moment passed by unseen for the blessing it reveals.”
Steven Charleston
Because I always sense that the Word of the Day is chosen by the Grateful Living staff, to relate to the Daily Question so I checked it out and my reaction was, Say, what??? Who feels like “home” to me?
My immediate reaction was to read the question again. On further analysis I noticed that the word “home” was in parenthesis and the the question posed was not place oriented. It was person oriented. So I started searching for the “Who of Home?”
My parents divorced when I was a preschooler so the “who of home” was my Mom. When both my parents remarried, I was blessed with a kind and caring step-dad and a step-mom that wished I would just disappear. Thankfully, I lived with my Mom and step father.
My first marriage proposal came when I was 18 from a young man who told me he wanted me to be the mother of his children because he sensed that I put my whole self into anything and everything I did. He added, however, that I must understand that men raised in his culture were not faithful. He apparently wasn’t interested in building a real relationship with me. His definition of marriage differed from mine. I was being being evaluated for hire to mother his children and provide them and him the security of a good home. I will say, he was definitely being honest!
I did marry about one year later and codependency kept us together for 35 years. That said, there was definitely love in our home. Both of us came from broken homes and we did not want that to happen to our children. Since my husband developed a drinking problem early in the marriage and we moved around a lot in the early years as he lost job after job. I’m reminded that when someone ask him where home was, he would say, “Wherever Mama hangs her apron.”
Thankfully, our children were in their early 30’s before our divorce took place. During that extremely difficult time, the “who of home” was two dear female friends who were there for me as I grappled to maintain my sanity.
As for my kids, my son rolled with the punches. My daughter reverted emotionally to a 10 year old and took sides. Thankfully a lot of healing has taken place in the last 25 years but my relationship with my grandchildren suffered throughout their childhood and it is only in recent years that they have realized my love for them.
I have been alone for 25 years and lived in several different states. I realize that the “who of home” is always where my heart is. As my mentor told me many years ago, “Carol, you have always been there for you.”
It has taken a life time for me to understand that the “who of home” is not a person or a place. It the space only we can create for ourselves. Our job is willingness. As Barb shared in her post yesterday: “Our authentic self we think we are is actually our coping self.”
I don’t want to cope with life. . That’s an egoic response. I want to be at home here and now. As the Word of the Day reminds me:
If time is my measure, then let me fill it to the brim, pouring out my best, sharing my heart, loving all I can, giving all I have. Let no day be wasted, no chance taken for granted, no moment passed by unseen for the blessing it reveals.”
“
Thank you, Carol. I always appreciate your reflections.
So heartfelt. Thank you for trusting us with your story.
Just beautiful and powerful!! Thank you!!
I have a variety of people I feel are “home” to me.
My immediate family, a group of long time friends, this community, myself, and a spiritual guide. That is to name a few. If I am in an uncomfortable situation and I think “oh I wish ….. was here” would be my brother.
Most of the time, and without a doubt, my husband feels like home to me. When moments of arguments or fights come my home feels less like home, which can be a little stressful. But I know that given time all wounds heal. Another aspect of a home feel for me is my mom and dad and their home. The home I grew up in. It’s always a lot of fun to go back home and visit, share new and old stories, watch dad show us his new magic trick, or to sit for hours and play some board games. It’s a different home than what I have with my husband. It’s like a childhood memory home with mom and dad and a new future home with my husband where we are. If that makes sense.
Without doubt my wife and children are home to me. Larger than my family and myself is the world we have to live and for that I would have to say that the writings of Steven Charleston bring me home.
I am blessed with caring and kind family and friends and enjoy my time with them. Honestly, I am a loner and when I am in my apartment alone, listening to a relaxing CD, it feels like home to me. My answer is that I feel like “home” to me. May everyone have a blessed day. 🙏🧘♀️🌈
“My answer is that I feel like “home” to me.” My sentiment exactly. Thanks, Sheila.🙏
Thank you, Josie! Have a wonderful day! 🌝
My mother was home to me. Unfortunately, she’s no longer here. I take comfort that perhaps I am “home” for my daughters.