The eye of the storm

I have been seriously lacking creative moments recently. I have not written anything in a week or more, and have not even picked up my camera. I would say that I have slipped back into the depression I was struggling with, but I don’t think that is really it. Sure I have been doing a lot of sleeping, but it is more simple tiredness and boredom then depression. I am sitting here determined to write something, and all I am getting is mental static. So I am going back to my old standby and just typing to see where I end up. I need to tune into a station again and get the creative flow back on track!

Two phrases are fighting for space in my emptily cluttered mind. “Home is where your heart is,” and “follow your heart”. Now these two often used self-help concepts are seemingly both true, yet they also seem to contradict each other. My heart tends to wander much, while at the same time it everywhere at once. So does this mean that I am homeless? Or at home everywhere? And if I follow my heart will I actually get anywhere? As silly as this little bit of word play may be, this is exactly where my mind … my soul even … is at.

I have shifted a little from previous confusion with myself. I am no longer wondering what my place in the world is, nor my purpose. Both are unanswerable questions unless we create the answers ourselves. But I am finding that my heart is not sitting still, and does not seem to know where it wants to be. I thought I was finally seeking romantic entanglement, and have sort of been pursuing this line … but my search keeps bringing me to foreign lands and souls out of my reach.  Does this mean that my heart seeks to move on? Is my nomadic soul once again keen to wander?

On the one hand I know the answer is yes. Yet by seeking romance … love … I am also kind of telling myself that maybe it is time to settle in one place. The issue is that the place I am currently settled is not where I want to be. And I don’t actually know where I want to be. I have found the other pole of my personal magnet several times now … yet always it is turning out to be more of a challenge than my current strength of heart and position in life can handle. I have shifted into a realm of pure dreams, and where once I had a little bit of magic to make such dreams come true … I seem to have misplaced or lost that magic. And my heart keeps getting twisted out of shape as a result.

No wonder it is confused.

Segue time.

I love storms. I love the thrill of wind blowing. The sense of potential that builds with pressure change … truly dynamic if lightning is involved. That said, no one truly wants to be caught out in a storm. As thrilling as it can be, it can also be dangerous … downright threatening. Watching from a safe haven allows both the peace and comfort of “home” while also giving the thrill and adventure of a wandering spirit.

I did not know where I was going with this post. I let my heart do the writing. I have now “followed my heart” and it actually led me towards “home”. The simple realization I get from my wandering thought is this. “Home” has nothing to do with a physical location. It has nothing to do with the house we live in, or where we live in general; it really does not have much to do with who we share our life with … though all these can help affect it. What determines home is where our heart feels comfortable and safe. Where it seeks healing when it is aching; where it shares joy when it is happy. And there is only one place that this truly can happen. Within ourselves. If we are not comfortable being us, not liking who we are, then how can we ever feel that we are at home? So the simple truth I am arriving at (or maybe being reminded of again) is that home IS where the heart is. Inside us. And if we actually follow our hearts we will always arrive back where we belong!

Every storm has its calm center, its haven where we are protected and safe. It is up to us to find that center within us. No matter how wild the storm is, as long as we maintain that center, peace is ours.

I need to get home again.

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