Come Home

The Egyptian novelist Naguib Mahfouz wrote, “Home is not where you are born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease.”

When I first heard this quote in my twenties, I hated it. I thought it meant home was some kind of prison. To hell with that, I thought. I’d rather be free and homeless than trapped in a cage.

Now I hear it differently. Home isn’t necessarily where you feel immediately comfortable. It’s where difficult emotions arise, and yet something deeper in you says: Stay. Face this.

For some people, having children brings back the loneliness, fear, or sadness they felt as kids. But parenthood also gives them a chance to meet those old emotions with greater strength, wisdom, and love. That's the real home they're building.

For others, making art brings them face to face with the fear of not being good enough. Every blank page, every rejection, reawakens the old belief that they don’t matter. But if they keep creating anyway, they discover that the fear no longer has the power to send them running. They find a home in their work.

The Thai ajaans describe breath meditation as a process of coming home. Some people imagine that means sitting down and immediately feeling bliss. More often, we encounter boredom, restlessness, and frustration. But if we keep returning to the breath, we discover a strength and spaciousness from which we can simply watch these feelings. That’s our true home, our home in the mind.

I often tell my clients: "Wherever you are right now, you can come home." Coming home has nothing to do with finding the perfect apartment or perfect partner. Coming home means resolving to stop running. It means not asking life to be different before you actually live it.

As always, if you'd like to be held through your own process, contact me and we’ll set up a free coaching call.

Odilon Redon, "Violette Heymann" (1910)