When I was a little girl, I often felt that I originated from a different planet. Earth did not feel like my home. At least the family in which I had landed did not make me feel as if I belonged to them and that they belonged to me. And so began a life-long quest to find home, to find where I belong. As it turns out, the image of home, of myself, was branded into my heart long before I arrived screaming into my mother’s arms.
Invisible Homeland, colored pencil on bristol board, November 2012
The cliché phrase “Home is where the heart is” seems to immediately evoke equally clichéd images: a cozy cottage with rose brambles growing up faded white painted brick walls, or perhaps a flowered upholstered couch over which hangs a framed cross-stitched sampler on which are embroidered in reds, pinks, and shades of green the familiar aphorism. As I reflect on the wisdom that may be contained in that same cliché, it comes to mind that perhaps the home I seek and may have traveled many miles to find lies inside my own body, my own soul and spirit. Indeed, my heart’s permanent address is inside my own body, and for the duration of this current life-time, wherever I go, inside of this body is where I live. My heart beats regularly, faithfully. The mystery of my body and the mystery of my-self are never-ending sources of amazement to me. I can travel the world, even explore other planets, yet I will never see the interior caverns and crannies of my own body. This organic home sustains me in my adventures, helps me think, feel, even transcend itself. It is an amazing creation.
Home could be defined as the place where we live, where we come for shelter, for rest and sustenance. Home is a place where we come to get away from the noise of life, where we cook our meals, where we create and decorate. We decorate our bodies with fashionable clothing and accessories, make-up, hair-styles, tattoos, jewelry. Home is also where we reconnect to the Earth and to one another, gardening, raking leaves, sharing meals with people we care about. Even if I try to escape the limitations of my personality by partaking in high risk sports, extreme travel adventures, I always come back to myself. Even if I become homeless by circumstance or by choice, in my body, I am always home. The most important treasure in the world is housed like a precious gem, somehow somewhere inside of my body. This treasure is my true Self, the energy and spirit that make me who I am. I will never find love anywhere in the world but in my-self, for the source of all creation is cradled within each of us.
Rose Heart, graphite on bristol board, November 2012
It is possible that our souls and spirits may have lived on other planets, in other universes during various lifetimes. It is possible that the energy that is each of us lives simultaneously in other spheres while we are busy living our normative lives. Each of us may have lived in many bodies of different race or sex, at various times in history. Our physics and world view do not yet allow most of us to wrap our minds around such possibilities, but the mysteries of the life force are not limited by our inability to comprehend. The soul and life force is much larger than our bodies, but it still makes its home within so that we may complete the tasks we have set for ourselves. Some equate death to returning “Home”, which would be the place from which all of us originate. When the energy that is limited by our definitions of self is liberated from the body, it returns to a different sphere, a higher vibration of energy and light. Love, light, and the heart are often interchangeable symbols or images. If home and heart are one, then home and belonging are an image for transcendence. Home, like heart, is a symbol of our souls and of love. If we make peace and awaken to ourselves, then we are at Home all of the time, whether living in a physical body or returned to the origins of all life and energy.
adamevenevenadam 