The idea of Home often feels like a continuous conversation in my mind. I’m learning what it means to create home inside of myself, and then be able to carry it from place to place. Having lived in different cities & countries my perception of home has changed so much over the years. I notice the subtle shifts in my language when I finally settle somewhere new and consider it home. My tongue speaking for what has already been subconsciously cemented in my mind and body.

I've come to accept I have two; one that feels like a sanctuary, where my routines & rituals thrive and another where I’m spiritually & energetically fed. Both necessary. Both co-existing even though miles apart.  

Home lies in the hearts of those I love, who open their front doors even when I’m not physically present. I believe it’s built through peace, belonging, language, acceptance and memories. It requires me to show up in love and be willing to receive it. It requires intentionality. I feel more at home the deeper I understand myself. The greater my understanding, the closer I am to returning home. I see it as something that is created as the dots slowly connect.  

I also consider it to be a physical manifestation of what we view as safe, a replica of nostalgia in an attempt to ‘return’ home. At times a longing to create something we never had, in an attempt to soothe our inner worlds, or shall I say wounds. A self portrait. One paint stroke at a time. 

A space for two selves - one being our inner child, roaming free and the other a curated environment for our desired selves to come to fruition or just simply be. Ultimately I think it should be a dwelling place for our authentic selves, where layers can be shed and defences put to rest. Somewhere to fully exhale. 

We spend so much time trying to create a tangible space that accurately reflects our identities… identities that often evolve. No wonder our homes never feel done. Each time I move I notice all things I never got round to doing or buying. But I do think living amongst objects and people that help tell our individual stories create an internal sense of belonging. I’ll continue to figure out what home means to me. Maybe I’ll write about it again one day and see if any of my thoughts have changed.