I woke up this morning to a blanket of snow. Immediately I thought "oh ya! snow day!" In Canada, this much snow would hardly amount to a day off. But here in Busan, where snow rarely falls, this is means for a day in bed. Or so I thought.
So here I am, at school, sitting at my desk staring out the window to a city covered in snow. To a playground full of kiddies, tongues out, catching snowflakes. To the sound of girls squealing as boys with crushes throw snowballs. This, reminds me of home. And it makes me smile.
As my time here in Korea comes to an end, I've been thinking of home, or rather, the concept of home. Everyone wants to know "when will I be coming home". And the thing is, I don't know. I don't even really know where "home" is yet. Over the last ten years I've lived in ten different places. Some have been in the same city, some just down the street from one another, some big, some small, or others, like this, have taken me across a very big pond. They've all been different and wonderful but have they really been my home?
I made the comment the other day that once I'm finished with this life abroad "I want my homebase to be my home". This, made perfect sense to me, but generated a couple of well-deserved looks of confusion.
What makes up a home? Is it the sheer structure of a roof held up by four walls. Is it the smell of chicken soup on the stove on a snowy day? Is home where the heart is or the place where you hang your hat? Can it simply be when I'm on the mat? Can it be all of these things? Or none. Can home reside within?
In 3 weeks I am going to be "homeless". Mike and I are finished here and will be packing our bags and heading off into the world of travel. We'll be living out of our packs going from one place to the next for who knows how long only to return to Canada with a big smile, a lot of stories and a little uncertainty as to 'what's next'.
Since leaving the home where I grew up, I've moved from place to place, and the word "home" is no longer a physical place of residence. What I find makes up my home are the little things that keep me feeling connected.
Heading out for a walk with no destination and letting myself take in all that surrounds me helps me to feel connected to nature. Having a tea at the local cafe, alternating between reading and people watching helps me feel connected to the people that I am physically sharing this space with. Yoga. Whether in the form of a class or my home practice, yoga helps me to feel connected to the spiritual rythm of the universe. It connects me to myself.
I've learned, and am still learning that as long as I continue to be true to myself and look for those things that keep me connected I will always be able to find the "home" within.
"...I want my homebase to be my home." I guess all this means is that when I do finally settle I hope that I am in a place where I am settled in myself. A place where I feel strong and connected to myself and those arround me. A place where I can face the unknown knowing that "home" is always just around the corner.
"Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home." ~ Matsuo Basho
And for your listening pleasure... This song = big smiles! Enjoy :)
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