Once I built a house. But, before I built this house there was another house that stood in its place. This old house gave us many things. It gave us dreams, which became the fuel, which became the action. But, as we took a closer look we began to see all of the rot. Rot in the walls, outside and then in, a dark fuzziness. So, we tore at the walls, taking them all down. And then the floors. Rot. Before too long all that remained standing were a few posts; old grey logs, upright in the formation of a house. I said, “Well, at least we have these”, as I patted one of the posts, like an old pal. Then, with a creak and a groan, it fell right over. Soon, nothing was left of the old shack. Dreams, though, like a fine and resilient dust, still lingered. But then, after all else was gone, there sat this shell of an old trailer; a rusted frame and two flat tires sinking in the mud. The trailer had been incorporated into the original structure.

 

Now, this trailer must have had a very strong idea of who it was, and a strong attachment to its place right there, right where the future shack would be built. This trailer's conviction was so strong, that the new builders of the house (including myself) were also so thoroughly convinced, against all sound judgment, to begin the new project, the new house, with this old, beaten, and crooked trailer; leaving it right where it was. It became the cornerstone.

 

Now, I don’t know if you have had experience in building something out of wood. I, at this point, had had very little. But, what I know now is that if you build a structure, and the base of that structure is at all crooked (meaning not at right angles), the entire structure and every single cut you make, every single angle and side will need to be measured and calculated individually. What does this mean? It means the house is like a jig-saw puzzle, and sometimes it is only by love, sweat, dreams, and magic that the pieces happen to come together! But, slowly and between many choice words and prayers that sounded more like pleading; somewhere in the music between regret and the golden future- the shack ‘happened’ to come together.

 

Our house is a very very very fine house.

 

What makes a home? What if our home is not something outside of ourselves?

 

When strong winds blow, when rain, hail, pelts the roof, as water rushes across the ground- the house stays. It is there, standing still, it is waiting, and it is not waiting.

 

What makes a strong home? If our home is here within ourselves, what is the strong foundation within? What keeps that foundation solid? What is it that provides for this strong base, to come back to; in which the home of ourselves rests upon?

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Today, in meditation I was at a point of feeling a lot of intense sensation. When this happens, I find that the best way is to remain absolutely still. Sometimes, I just say to my body- “stillness”. Today when I did this it seemed as if there was a storm raging and moving all around me, wind and needles, gusts and blows. But there I was, solid. Me the house. Stillness. As I went deeper, a helper stepped in. And its name was Gratitude. I hung onto gratitude like a life raft in the stormy sea! And as I stayed with Gratitude, a great calmness flooded in. And I found that all of this was rooted and surrounded by a steady feeling of trust. I found that when I stayed with my focus on trust, trust in the Divine, in the greatness of the universe, I felt safe. Ah Ha! So this is what it means to be at home!

 

Gratitude is a glowing seed. As the seed expands, I enter into a city named Calm. At the base of the city, in which all reside, there is the constant, there is steady; it is called Trust.

 

Gratitude. Calm. Trust.

 

Here, I found, is where my true ‘home’ is made. And here resides the always companions- comfort, protection, peace, stability, and room to be who you are.