When All Paths Lead Home

One of the many failures of imperialism and capitalism is the way it requires us to navigate a world that reduces our value to the profits we produce and the goods we consume. A world that inundates us with programming and propaganda that, often, attempts to disempower and erode us. A world in which we, collectively, still have so much to learn about how to treat one another with the respect, compassion, and reverence that we should.

In short, life is heavy.

Conversations about how one not only survives — but thrives — in this modern world are common. There’s no shortage of prescriptive articles, books, podcasts, and YouTube tutorials, chock full of useful tips on how to find happiness in a world that works overtime to undermine us in that quest: Exercise. Meditate. Create a vision board. Make a gratitude journal. Eat clean. Cultivate a social life. Take some medicine. Fast intermittently. Adopt a pet. Join a cause. Phone a friend.

All helpful.

And yet, one of the most deeply satisfying self-care and self-love practices I’ve adopted is one I don’t hear much about. I like to call it “home-ing.”

Yes, I know that’s not an actual word and I’m pretty sure there’s a more official and precise term for it out there; but for me, “home-ing” is the cultivation of “home” in both the literal/physical sense AND the figurative/spiritual sense. It’s the understanding that a sense of centeredness and belonging is critical to our well-being and ability to thrive. We need a home…around us and within us.

I regard my physical home as both my shelter and my sanctuary, where there is a letting down of the hair, a taking off of the bra, and a breaking of bread with the people I love most. As a lover of all things cozy and an unapologetic introvert, home is a sacred, cherished, and medicinal place where I shake off the vestiges of the outside world and return to myself.

And yet, I know that my physical home is just part of the story. There is another home — the psycho-spiritual home within. It’s the part of me that knows and takes comfort in who I truly am. It’s the part of me that anchors and holds me steady during life’s storms. This home is not physical, but energetic, and stands at that critical juncture where the head, heart, and soul meet and harmonize.

What I have learned in these past few years, is that pandemics and loss change a lot of things, including priorities. And what I know for sure is that while I can’t control the outside world nor avoid the inevitable valleys that accompany life’s peaks, I can create a home around and within that nourishes and fortifies my family and I through it all.

And by “all,” I don’t mean just the pandemic.

In 2019, my children lost their grandfather.

In 2020, my younger brother was shot and killed while trying to protect his girlfriend’s mother from intimate partner violence.

In 2021, my divorce which began in 2019, was finalized.

The losses took a devastating toll on all of us and my children had to weather them them while also navigating the permanent closing of their beloved school, the isolation and unpredictability of virtual learning, and the forfeiture of in-person graduations, senior proms, and the social activities that made them feel connected to their friends and community.

I could change none of these things.

But it became clear to me that we had to rely on what was in us and what was around us to pull us through. How we experienced ourselves, our space, and our time together was paramount. The questions of what home truly was and how I wanted it to feel took precedence. I knew that, more than ever, home needed to be safe. Soothing. Nourishing. Pleasurable. Comforting.

Tender.

I also knew that any attempts to cultivate this kind of sacred space would be futile without an equal commitment to creating it within myself. Sure, I could buy all the trappings to create the right look, but if the interior home of my head, heart, and soul remained cluttered with unresolved trauma, fear-based programming, festering resentment, and old paradigms that no longer served me, there would be no true safety or comfort for me or those around me.

Creating a sanctuary is an inside and outside job.

My healing and care for my own inner child took on the same level of prioritization that caring for others did. This “self-full” philosophy ran counter to the selfless approach that most women…especially mothers…are encouraged to take when it comes to loving and parenting. We have largely normalized and glorified the Mother Martyr, embracing the notion that it’s not only okay — but noble, even — for women to feel chronically stressed, burned-out, anxious, and unfulfilled so long as it means our children, partners, family, and friends feel good.

Carl Jung said, “Nothing has a stronger influence psychologically on their environment and especially on their children than the unlived life of the parent” and one of the greatest things we can do for everyone we love, is to heal and care for ourselves. The subsequent love, peace, and clarity that radiate from us, as a result, is a gift to everyone we come in contact with.

A healed soul is a powerful force for good in the world, indeed.

My “home-ing” has involved a deliberate deep-dive into my own soul, facilitated by intense introspection and regular spiritual and creative practices that help me become and deeply love who I truly am. The resulting light permeates my body, my life, my relationships, and the physical home I share with my family. I also support my children in unveiling their own light.

So, when house guests compliment us on how our home looks and feels, I know there’s more to it. While they may think they’re simply remarking on the creature comforts and the aesthetics — the textures, colors, art, furnishings, and decor — I know that what they’re actually experiencing and speaking to is the vibration of love that emanates here and is felt by those who enter. We intentionally built it. We vigilantly protect it.

Home is both a place and a practice.

From the late, great, Dr. Maya Angelou I learned that “The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place we can go as we are and not be questioned.” So, I think a lot about those of us who are left unhoused in both the physical and spiritual sense. I know that for far too many, home isn’t accessible and — even when it is — it isn’t always the safe, loving, and nourishing place it should be. I know that much of what disrupts a person’s ability to “home” (in both the literal and figurative sense) is baked into systemic oppression, mass exploitation, income inequality, individual and collective disempowerment, and unfettered greed and corruption. Under such conditions, it is absolutely a privilege to be able to “home” — in any sense of the word.

Those of us who understand “home-ing” in its truest and most authentic sense, know it must necessarily be contextualized within a framework of social justice and liberation. By any definition rooted in love, whatever and wherever we call home serves as our North Star, our personal Polaris. We can gauge the legitimacy of any endeavor we choose to undertake and the integrity of any path we choose to walk by its ability to lead us back home to who we truly are. And from the stronghold of our own home — however we define it — we should always be working, in our own way, to make it a possibility for everyone else, too.