What is it about coming home
That ignites both excitement
And sadness,
Her dream of finding herself
Out in the world
Always leading her back
To the space inside,
Always present,
Always welcoming,
And yet she wanders still
©Ashley Castle Barnes
It feels like all the work I’ve done over the last decade is for the inevitable purpose of coming back home to myself, to the me that has been lost, hidden, masked.
But it’s more than that too. It’s the journey, the experience.
I keep setting out, looking for something unseen but felt inside, then circling back to a place that feels closer to home than before.
I always come back to the place inside where I’m home, I’m whole, I have the comfort of knowing I have the answers within.
And then I set out again.
A cycle of beginning and ending but there really is no end.
At least, I hope I never reach a place where the learning and growing ends.
I think that would be death, even if I were still alive.
I used to not love the wandering. It felt directionless and untethered.
Because it was. It still is.
And that’s okay. Learning to trust my inner compass has been my journey, and while it’s been rocky, it hasn’t led me astray.
It is the way.
What is your way, your journey of coming home?