Home is where the heart is

What a summer. 25 (!) separate Facebook posts later, I finally reach the bottom of the barrel of my Singapore photos.

I’ve saved the miscellaneous, quiet, domestic ones till the end.

These – a skillfully-negotiated extension of just half an hour extra for the cousins to play football in the waning light, because they were loath to surrender one another’s company; Courtesy Lion and National Day flags during a small visit to Jurong library (the younger two coincidentally wearing colour-matching t-shirts with another mascot, Vinicius from Rio 2016); being sent downstairs on their own to procure their breakfast items, in a deliberate exercise of independence; both boys volunteering to help hang dry their laundry; and a hilarious series of what-it-really-takes-to-get-family-photo outtakes –

These aren’t really “events”, the way the previous posts were. This is just life. Mundane low-key ordinary life (ok, minus the schooling and homework! 😬). But for these guys, whom have been missing out and asking for more of precisely this – life in Singapore – so much of their happinesses, their shining primary memories, are made of these.

“Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world and the seven seas

Everybody’s looking for something…”

Home – is where the heart is. There has been so much I have been learning about “coming home to the self” in e.g. practicing mindfulness of the body, speech and mind. I am finding that home is lots of things. A physical place, many physical places can play their unique roles in our concept of “home”. The warm inviting space that lives and breathes between us and those we share love with is also a key component of “home”. Our own bodies, in which our consciousnesses are incorporated, are our sacred temples, in which we can always find refuge. (We are all refugees.)

“Home” is not only where we find ourselves.

It is where we find love itself – in all its conceivable shades and polarities.

“Home” is also where help awaits you. Help which no one can do without. Help, like love, also comes in many forms. And as I write this sentence, I not only think back in indescribable gratitude to my family and friends who have thrown wide open their hearts, doors, and calendars and offered the best of their generosity and hospitality to us in Ireland, Singapore, and Italy over these past eight weeks…the thought also tickles my mind that help and love are often so much the same thing. Especially in action.

It has been as intense as it looks, and more. Running 8 weeks with 3 children off school with work inbetween, travel, events, and everything else that we’ve had on, has been as incredibly tiring as you can imagine.

It has also been wonderful. And we have spent so much quality time with so many loved and valued family and friends these 8 weeks that we will look back at this summer knowing and feeling that there are so many smiling places that are truly “home” to us.

And for those of *you* reading this – thank you. 🙏💗

I’m too tired to write more. A new week starts afresh in the morning ahead. The season turns; the heating’s on; the leaves fall; the kids have already started their new chapter, repotted and watered, and now I can turn to mine. I’m ready. 🌳

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