This is where I long to be ... this is where I all journeys begin and end ... this is where my deepest work lies ... this is what I strangely resist ...
As much as I give it lip-service, it is hard for me to wind down. I hop from space to space, task to task. Without limitations or real time constraints (other than the obligations of Cowgirl & Moose Dog) I seek something solid to lean into. Usually that means tossing myself into a commitment which then provides me a direction and focus. Like George Costanza, I recognize I need to do the exact opposite of what compels me ... not overriding intuition, but bypassing reflexive habit to allow myself time to perceive the quiet guidance.
Staying open ... waiting for the miracle to arrive ... this is challenging when everything in me screams to get up, get a plan together, and get going. This seems to be the online fortune du jour "don't leave before the miracle happens" and my unofficial research (thank you, Google Now) tells me this saying comes from AA. Which seems right as chronic busyness is certainly a modern addiction and one I am susceptible to caving into.
So home is where I meet myself. Home is where I can be myself and it is where I face my greatest discomforts with self. When I've peeled away all the distracting babbles, the pressures to live up to some new cultural ideal - the attentive mother, empowered wild woman, transforming light-bearer, inspired & uplifting entrepreneur - I behold what I truly want to be.
Home-maker. In the fullest sense of the word. Home as described here. Home as a center of balance within, approached through quiet, solitude, inner conversations, deep listening. I am inspired by this home-lover. I am preparing to tackle worn-out beliefs about who it is I want and believe myself to be ... revising my story if you will. Sitting back and digesting this juicy bone:
What would happen if the stories we have been telling only exist because we tell them? (Nissa of Soul Craft, The Stories of Now starts February 1)
I'm beginning by the way I respond to the question: Employer? I take a breath, make sure I am sitting up straight, gaze directly at the person asking and respond "I work on home; I'm self employed." Every night, when the Husband comes home and inquires What did you do today? I am going to notice my desire to squirm, to snap, to launch into how many loads of his laundry I did for him (housework is a favor ... one granted out of love ... but a still a favor and not a de facto responsibility) and instead I will truthfully answer him "I was busy loving life." It's not a job, but it is a responsibility, a privilege.
There is so much beauty, there is so much to cherish and enjoy. Making things difficult, choosing the hard path, that's another threadbare story I'm ready to pitch out. Struggle does not automatically make me more worthy, the prize more valuable. It's like wearing comfortable shoes: You cover the same distance but in ease and enjoyment of the total experience and not dwelling on each painful step.
There's a story that goes like this: An old woman was out on a street searching for a lost needle. People passing by stopped and offered to help her look for it. As they joined in on the search, they quickly realized the road was very wide and a needle very small and difficult to find. Hoping to narrow down the search they asked the old woman "Grandmother, where did you lose it?" She replied "Inside my house." The people were perplexed. "Why are you looking out here?" She explained to them that there was more light outside to see by. That inside is dark. She smiled at their confusion. "Don't you do the same? Why are you searching for bliss in the outside world? Have you lost it there?"
What I seek is within me. It's not about answers to questions, it's not about defining my purpose, it's about coming home. Being home. It's about greeting each day as another opportunity to deepen my connection to the love affair that is life ... my life, as it is. My new mantra it seems is one word: This.
This day ... this meal ... this conversation ... this moment ... this wound ... this healing ... this incredible gift of loving and being loved.
I know, it sounds lovely ... it sounds effortless. But ... but what? Sitting in the discomfort of being comfortable, contented, happy with the simple things. It's a new character trait I'm trying on. Growing into. It will take time. Well, that's about all I've got: time and opportunity to keep practicing.