There's no place like home. Or, so some would say. My thoughts diverge from the maudlin notion of home being some sort of blessed refuge. This probably puts me smack dab in the midst of a very small and unpopular minority. But, I make no apologies. I can write only of that which I have experienced, and I've never known "home" to be a source of comfort.
I'm not even sure where my home is anymore. Is home where you live, or is it where you came from? Is it the space you occupy or is it the space that welcomes you?
I am most "at home" when I am in the forest. That's where I feel most confident and most alive. I lose all self-consciousness surrounded by the beauty of the trees. It's strange, but when I am in the woods I feel as though I am as ancient as the mossy earth and it seems that I have been alive forever. If I sit motionless in a shadowy glade I can practically decipher messages written by the wind. I can feel myself becoming one with nature, as though I have been absorbed into the humus beneath my feet. I feel as though I have found the place where I truly belong.