one of my mum's pics from home
There is something caught within beauty, as though it is trapped there, or I am trapped here, away from it. It silently sings and moves me with it's stillness. The second I witness that something, I am home.
At the moment I am lucky, love and the summer have me open, home is everywhere and I can welcome people in constantly. Generosity comes from being home, authentic action comes from being home, and unconditional love springs abundantly from this space, clearing path after path to doors which had been blocked to me before. When I am home, the world is an easier place to live in, and sharing it with others is a doddle.
I am not home when things are too rushed, when I act as though there are more important things to attend to than my sense of peace and connectedness, when I allow myself to become one of my roles instead of fulfilling a role.
Both of these states are easily slipped into, but coming home takes a little mindful focus and it's preciousness is balanced by the seeming un-importance of focusing in a dutiful life.
It's a good thing life is so beautiful.