Erin and I both recently embarked on moves to new homes, an act filled with bittersweet emotion, in saying goodbye, in starting anew, and in discovering the omnipresent belonging that exists in our hearts wherever we may find ourselves.
Erin's reflection on her experience resonated with me on a deep level as universal, poignant and beautiful. Please join me in reading her thoughtful, poetic words -- and please share your own thoughts and reflections of the constant return Home.
I’ve sat here for at least a hundred mornings. My last few mornings I’ve had in this space, I’ve written mostly about love; it’s different ways of taking shape and also it’s concession. About how memories often revolve around love; felt, expressed, lost, or given.
When I arrived here three years ago, boxes in hand, I was searching for something to keep me here. Something to keep me grounded.
This place has become my home; a reminder that I was ok and a symbol of that grounding. It’s been my space to create, cook, dream, dance, laugh, share, cry, rest and grow.
A place I’ve labeled ‘home’ in my heart for years has been boxed up in hours.
Moving is a good lesson in impermanence.
With each box carried out and dust particle swept, I will take a little love memory from these years and trust that spark will translate to the masterpiece of life;
a continual home-making amidst the shuffle that goes on.
Molly Jo Stanley
Educating for Mindfulness and Sustainability