Cherry blossom roots,
the turning of the season-
petals underground
Cherry blossom roots,
the turning of the season-
petals underground
submerged in space time,
cobwebwinged–light years away.
I came across an old email and what a great reminder that the same philosophy of sorts still rings true (with a bit more color added in, perhaps some complexity) about the notion of home and self:
My book is now talking about the idea of home and causing me to think further about what I said last night, that desire to be constantly exploring/moving but using distance as some determinant of whether I’m finding anything of substance. I’ve learned/am learning distance, destination is not what the desire is about;should not be what the desire is about for myself. In Gravity: The Allure of Distance, Olsen first talks about the word saunter, how we often do not do/use this word in its pure sense, but have rather chalked it up to being lazy, or without drive. However, the word derives from sans terre, “without land or a home, in a good sense, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere”, how “we have a permanent desire to be somewhere other than where we are”…however “to assume that there is a greater value away from home than at home is a dangerous mistake…a home is the place in the present where one’s past and one’s future come together. It is the crossroads between history and heaven… coming home after a day at work is, in its essence, the same thing as walking a wilderness road for the very first time. When I go home this evening, the light will have changed. Mail will have arrived… I will have stories to share, dust settled into some corners, my home will be fresh this evening as any part of the world will ever be to my limited ways of seeing… coming home provides the context for our road songs, just as the road provides the context for our stories about home… Both provide the foundation for our souls… each day creates a new Terra Incognita out of the whole universe, each morning a new and unexplored venue for the Tourist. To be a Tourist in the way I mean is to learn a way of seeing freshness, a way to value even the smallest and most perfunctory actions of our days… it is in the little excursions as much as in the large ones, in the small observations as well as the grand ones, that we will discover ourselves, that we can make an honest connection with others… my desire for knowledge is intermittent, but my desire to bathe my head in atmospheres unknown to my feet is perennial and constant… every one of us is a Tourist. In the silence of reading as well as in the joy of excursion. Wherever you are right now, how could you know what words would come next? How the light would reflect from the walls and the faces of people near you? We do not expect our own stories, or who we would hear them with. Look up for a moment. Isn’t there as much Wonder, as much material for Story, for Community, and for Peace, in your room, as there is anywhere else, everywhere else?”…
Concise nonfiction.
I’ve spent seven years “moving” yet I’m not so sure I’ve mastered it, each time stings, yet keeps that desire for change stirring. I’ve spent seven years in no attempt to sit with myself and be happy with just THAT, THAT, this, ME being enough. Here’s to the next seven… and maybe some more movement.
home
(hm)
n.
4.
9.
11. Computer Science
adj.
1.
adv.
v.intr.
v.tr.
Idioms:
at home
home free