In my wife’s arms and goodness,  she is my home.

in my mother’s art

my father’s prose.

My brother’s selves,

In my children’s eyes and lives,

in my grandchildren’s play.

In my friends uniquenesses.

In music, art, and poetry.

In bookstores and pottery.

In Shabbat, Israel, David, Moses, Jesus… Heschel, Buber, Meister Eckhart, Huxley, Watts, Steinsaltz, the pasireros cafe, with the Great man… In sacred texts… The Torah, the Psalms, the Tao, Confucius, the Bhagavad Gita… Merton, Walker Percy, Dorothy Day.  In flowers, water, mountains, landscapes, crab nebulae and galaxies.

I have felt at home both inside and outside space and time.

In stomach waves and brain heat.

In tea and scotch.

Fruit and meat.

I have felt at home in this world.

And I know this is just a passing through.

Musings, Landis Rellim

 

We each have unforgettable moments in life where we discover (sometimes to our surprise) that we feel at home.

“I will never forget that night. It was the first time I had ever gone through files. The official met me at the front door and led me to a room with a conference table in the middle, and, on the table, high stacks of file folders. And somehow, in a strange way, sitting there going through them, I felt at home. As I went through the memos and the letters and the minutes of meetings, I could see a pattern emerging…

There are certain moments in your life when you suddenly understand something about yourself. I loved going through those files, making them yield their secrets to me. And here was a particular and fascinating secret…”

Robert Caro, The New Yorker