I am on a path of leaving what is familiar. In February the open road will stretch out before me, beckoning to places beyond the horizon. I don’t know where I will begin, but trust the way will be shown. My possessions will be a thing of the past and hopefully, I will only be carrying essentials.
Occasionally now, common places can remind me of goodness that will be left behind. On Thanksgiving day, I joined Sarah and Jean at our house for a relaxed afternoon, then dinner. The winter is coming, and as it became dark outside, while Jean was in the kitchen, she asked me to build a fire in the fireplace. After a little blaze was begun, I made several trips outdoors, gathering more wood. Coming into the warm indoors, seeing dancing flames in the hearth, and recognizing my lovely household of so many years, it suddenly struck me how good a home can be and why people are attached to their dwelling place. Then I thought with a hint of sad nostalgia of my coming homelessness and transition. Then again, it is okay; I am choosing it.
For years I have had a feeling that this world is only a place along the way—somewhere I am passing through. My spirit will always be restless here because as beautiful as it is, it also is the place of death. Beyond this material place, in the spiritual realm clear of space and time, where day never becomes night, deathless, sublime, and indescribable, awaits the true home I am destined for.
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