Lone Raindrops

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Last Monday I moved house again. I have lost count of how many times I’ve moved; of how many times I’ve flicked through old pages holding encounters, woes, stories only I know. It has been 13 days since I wrote in my journal. The turquoise book seemed buried too deep and it felt as though I had too much to write yet I was emptied of writing. Somehow I could not bare the task of writing my thoughts, emotions and events, it all appeared far too heavy and I needed rest from constructing sentences out of pain that produced joy.

Sometimes we need to empty ourselves. We need to let ourselves breathe; let ourselves be still; and let ourselves ponder.

Circumstances arise when we need them and God knows what we need and when we need it most. Our challenges are to bring us closer to accomplishing great things. They provide us with moments to acknowledge our blessings and they are opportunities to be stronger, braver, and more resilient time and time again. Through each challenge we are prepared for the next, we gain more compassion or patience or self-belief. We build upon our foundations with each difficult experience, layering comprehension of this earth life.

‘Imagine for a moment that you are a drop of water. As it happens, you are a very unique little drop – beautifully shaped, with only a cute little distortion in the way you reflect the light. People praise your beauty, and in time you come to believe that you are special.

But as time goes on, you become lonely. You long for the companionship of an other – another drop of water who will love you as you love it and help you feel less alone. You find that other, or you don’t; you fall in love, or you don’t.

And then one day it starts to rain. Seven billion drops of rain fall in a single afternoon and you are no longer alone. Briefly, you touch mitochondria with a single raindrop and before you know it, two have become one. You are still alone, but you are larger than before. With each drop of water you merge with, your entire being expands, until all seven billion drops become one ocean.

And you are still alone. And all is well.’

{Michael Neill, The Space Within -Finding Your Way Back Home}

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Losing, searching for, and finding Home

For the things we truly love, we must make sacrifices. Sometimes we must forget the self that we think we are.

Sometimes we must have nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to be with.

This is how we find our way home.

Home. Home can be an empty word that has no meaning. Home and I never established a solid relationship, and so I was searching for this place where I could belong and where my heart could rest at peace and where I could be rooted to grow as a tiny sapling.

I had attempted to quit smoking many times before. Walking home at night in the rain I made oaths with myself to end the habit and I tried over and over to convince myself I did not need it. At work, every hour, I would step outside to drag for five minutes on this token of freedom from an uncomfortable social situation that pained me to stand amongst. A cigarette represented an escape. A way out of all of the voices going around inside my head while I didn’t know how to speak, how to be alive, how to be amongst other human beings. So I would think and think about the next opportunity to hold that rolled tobacco between my fingers and run from this world that made no sense to me so I could be alone in the open air and my thoughts could slump into numbed relaxation.

When my anxieties attacked at every angle within the depths of my soul, it was always there to lean upon like a dummy in the pocket of a baby long grown out of suckling years. I had no money, but always had enough to smoke. And perhaps if I hadn’t given myself away so easily to a destructive relationship it would have been only half the climb back up.

Never again will I allow myself to be submissive to something that does not understand me, respect me, or love me as I am.

Never again will I lose sense of my true self, or hide my self, or be afraid to express the love that I am.

My life was filled with people who hid their love behind closed doors or had been hurt so much they had forgotten how to love, maybe they never knew how to love. And I don’t mean love between a man and a woman I mean human love, spiritual love, love for all; love that transcends you because you love all people with their flaws and mistakes and sacrifice yourself just so you can show others a pure love and how to love themselves with words and actions and a new chain of thought that stops them from thinking they are ugly, or worthless, or inadequate, or alone.

You can start to view each person as a brother or a sister on this journey together, each needing a hand to hold and someone to show them the way.

Sometimes I get frustrated because the cats persist to excrete in the garden, odours of scattered rubbish waft along the street, the lounge is not homely enough to relax in, and I’ve had little money for food, no way of travelling anywhere except by foot, and feelings of despair. But I got out of all of those other places that sucked me down and teared me and grasped at me with a million hands. I do have a roof over my head, I have a bed, a hot shower, a stove, trees around the corner and a river down the road, and I have people who want to help me; people who genuinely care because they love all. There is no arguing in my house, no smoking, no drinking, no loud swearing, and I am safe from the outside world. This may sound terribly boring but in fact it is incredibly humbling to have so little of material value but instead live through having nothing and nowhere and no-one so you are able to feel the deepest gratitude for the most simple, peaceful blessings.

I live in a house, yet it is not my home. A search for my home began too long ago to tell. I was looking for something that could not be found. The earth is my home. The whole of the earth. Wherever I may go, I am home.