After traveling for almost a month and coming home to a disheveled house in which a water main broke, the oven was pulled from the wall and a hole cut out in the bathroom I was hit with the contemplation of what makes a home... homey and what makes home... hOMe?
A hug that covers your circumference
A cushion that you can sprawl your limbs on
A smell of your mothers hair and/or cooking
A taste of the spices your grandmother used
A place you went to over and over when you were a child
A friends smile framed with their support and confidence in you
and most importantly a channel for energy to flow...
The first thing I do when I get back from a trip is take a bath. There is something womb like about sitting in warm water with candles, essential oils, epsom salt and music that equalizes my mood and allows me to settle. This ritual for me is like cleansing the Puja (alter) before placing a Murti (statue of deity) for the first time in its new home. However, the alter has to get a cleansing as well sometimes.
When there isn't space for our senses to breath we notice it...
How good it is to be home but how I wish my home felt more like hOMe... You can name it whatever you want but it isn't home until it is.
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