On the cusp of the new calendar year, I find myself deeply resting. There is a sense in me of deep need for rest. Preparing for the wheel of time to keep turning. I have been contemplating David Whyte’s poem “The House of Belonging” (this is an excerpt-the full poem is at the end of this blog): “This is the bright home in which I live, this is where I ask my friends to come, this is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love. This is the temple of my adult aloneness and I belong to that aloneness as I belong to my life. There is no house like the house of belonging.” For a long time I felt like I did not belong to this land of Australia. I belonged with my family – a very large and noisy family - who live here. I was born here. But I always felt drawn to the land of Ireland. And, it’s true that I do feel most at home there – spiritually – and “in my skin”- in a way that has been so hard to find here. I realise that the bones of my ancestors are not here in Australia. The layers of earth under my feet do not contain them. And yet, my home is created here. The bright cords of my heart’s love are here. My parents, my siblings, my children and grandchildren and my beloved partner. Here in these mountains “is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love.” I am here. It is now, and “there is no house like the house of belonging.” At the end of the Calendar year and moving into 2021, may you find and dwell in your house of belonging, and may the year to come hold love and many dreams-come-true. Here is the full poem. |