When do we feel completely at home?

With our family?
Expressing ourselves through art?
At our favourite place?
In silence?

Sadly, very few people find home. Mostly, they’re displaced by distraction and living into a story that was never theirs.

As yourself, please, where’s home?

Is it only a place of security, or being folded into a loving, comfortable place? Or is it where you feel most alive?

Right now, as part of my own journey to live into my questions, it’s something I’m once again exploring.

I’d love to give you a pithy response — i.e. “It’s [insert]” — but I’m fearful that that will kill off the mystery of home that’s reappeared in my life.