on the nature of home.

There is a faraway place where my heart lives. In everything I am but a sojourner who accumulates a wealth of lessons and stories along the way. 

Home has always been an abstract construct for me. I’ve never truly felt like I’ve belonged in any particular space of time, often straddling the line between where I am, where I was and where I want to be. Home has always been the space where authenticity lives. The places where our heart finds belonging, and when we truly feel like we can be the best of ourselves.

This year has been one unlike any other, and through it perhaps, I’ve found a glimpse of what home could be. It has never been about the soil I was birthed on, nor the colour and pages of my passport. Home has always been where my heart has felt its rest. A quiet space where for the majority of the year it has hidden itself from the world. A space where it can be. Just as it is. Nothing more, nothing less. A place where it doesn’t need to the carry the things it used to carry.

Home isn’t defined by a person, place, or a construct of time, but instead, I choose to see home as a movement, found in intentionally, grace and love. Home is the space where people feel the most connected they can be to the core of who they are, a space where the best of us outpours towards the world around us.

A space of beauty, love and growth.

Perhaps the greatest lesson I’ve come to appreciate this year is the idea of home that begins with us returning to the heart of who we were all created to be.