Saturday, June 02, 2007

Home fires

A walk after dark tonight. It’s 86 degrees with a hot restless wind rising off the street. Sounds of air conditioners and fans. Front doors and windows wide open. Few voices though.

The local news reported a rangeland fire burning south of Boise. So early in the summer for fires. Usually don’t hear the water transport planes droning overhead until late July and August.

While writing today, was contemplating different meanings of "home." Going home, coming home? Home is where the heart is? Feeling at home? If you had a ticket to travel "home," where would you want to be at the end of your journey?

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Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.
--Christian Morganstern

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.
--John Ed Pearce

I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.
--Maya Angelou

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"The journey itself is home" wrote the haiku master Basho 4 centuries ago. At first hearing that seemed a harsh reality close to constant exile, but perhaps it need not be so. As the earth turns, "wherever I hang my hat is home," home is more than any fixed locale, it is where mind & heart find satisfying pause momentarily, like stopping by a clear spring on a smoking day and discovering what might feel at touch to be a lava pool is a cooling mirror.