I spend quite a lot of time at home, I like it here. Sometimes I wonder if I will look back on my life and wish I had travelled more and spent less time on the daybed, I doubt it. This is the place where the afternoon light falls, where the fairy lights frame our favourite photos, and where I taught my little person to read, write his name, hug, and stay warm on cold nights. It is also the place where we take haven together from the things that have hurt us. It is where we have healed together, in the light.
As I took these photos on the weekend I was reminded of my favourite Rumi poem:
The Guest House by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Do you love your home as much as we do?