I had one of those moments of pure joy a few days ago. My partner, Bill and I were driving home. We had just run a few errands around town and browsed a local thrift store before going to the food co-op where we ate fresh baked bread, sipped tea and talked. The joy that I felt flowed from a sense of belonging. I am 45 years old and for the first time in my life I know what it is to be home.
I moved a lot as a child. I once counted the number of schools I attended before I graduated high school. There were 9. Even as an adult I never stayed in one place more than 5 years before I felt myself being beckoned elsewhere. It wasn't just that I didn't want to put down roots; I didn't know how.
I live in a truly wonderful place now. A small college town with a charming downtown business district and plenty of cultural and civic events. I have made fun, interesting, caring friends here. It seems that I have found my tribe. But somehow I know that my sense of belonging is about more than a particular place or the people that make it a community. I suspect that something in me has changed.
About a year ago I found and started reciting a gatha by Thich Nhat Hanh:
I have arrived.
I am home.
In the here.
In the now.
I am solid.
I am free.
In the ultimate I dwell.
I have been searching for my way home for the longest time. Perhaps this little verse provided a map.
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