A house is a house but not necessarily a home. A home does not necessarily have a roof nor a door though she who sleeps under the stars would say that it does.
After stripping down to the bare necessities, ‘travelling’ through six abodes in half the amount of years with no sense of permanency but managing to stay upon the same island nonetheless I learnt a number of things:
I am sure there is much more to say here that belongs to the world of silence but you know when a cycle you were part of, albeit not quite conscious of its bigger picture, is complete.
Just when I had let it all go and accepted the part of living in the flow then the moment arrives when a house feels like it’s here to stay again and the stars say go ahead now you can plant some flowers in the ground or its time to get the teapot and the teacups out for its time to receive or feel free to get your own internet connection because it is time to just be.
Getting to chose what I will place in my new ‘cup’, to choose each and every item I will live with, to create beauty and to add fire to the hearth feels like I am born again. I had forgotten the pleasure of physically maintaining a home, the sense of peace that comes with physical stability and the pleasure that comes from the simple things in life.
The flow of gratitude is overwhelming.