A SEARCH FOR TRUE HOME

“Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation. Where, as the times implore our true involvement. The blades of every crisis point the way.” 
(Partial quotes from the poem: A Dream of Trees by Mary Oliver)

*This is a writing exercise using a writing prompt suggestion (the poem), and thoughts about finding and connecting with the place of your true home. *

A SEARCH FOR TRUE HOME

I have lived in a perpetual state of mourning since January 25, 1981, the day my mother died.

Death has been a long-time visitor since I was a child. Ten years later, December 2, 1990, my dad died, but the cycle started earlier.

  • Age 6–7, my favorite aunt and my grandfather died. My first true deep experience of loss.
  • Age 8–9, my horse Wanda died. I named after a patron of my mother’s beauty shop who I was crazy about as a kid. I was devastated.
  • Age 10–11, my Siamese cat, Loud Mouth, died. We had raised her on a bottle from birth. She was a pocket cat. That is what we called her because until she got too big, that was where she wanted to be in your pocket, even after she had outgrown the pocket.
  • Age 11–12, Shirley Farmer, a great lady whom I loved dearly, died. She introduced me to bible school at the age of 3 picking me up and bringing me home. I played with her son every week when mama did her hair. I was so upset, physically sick, I could not go to the funeral.
  • Age 12, one of my best friends, 3 years older, died of Leukemia. My mother did her grandmother’s hair.
  • Age 13, Fannie died. She taught me to crochet clothes for my dolls and my mother did her hair.
  • Age 14–15, my Uncle John died. He lived with us on a few occasions. I was pretty nuts about him.
  • Age 15 my dog, Fritzy, who I had since age 1 and my dog Peanut died.

I had just turned age 17 when mama died. There were other deaths between these pet friends and people. Ten years later daddy.

The year after daddy died, my dog Trixie died. Daddy had bought her for me. That was even harder in some ways.

My mother’s good friend Helen Jones watched over me after my mother died. She became my best friend as she was to my mothers. She died when I was in my early thirties. It was as hard as losing my mom and dad.

The years are littered with the losses, aunts, uncles, grandmother, half-sister, cousins, friends, and beloved pets, not mentioned.

It’s a sobering thought. I sometimes think I don’t know how to live or
 feel without mourning being an intricate part of my being.

Death is life. Life is part of death. I don’t know how I feel about that overall. Sometimes I am humbled, sometimes devastated, sometimes grateful. And yes, there have been times of anger and rage.

True home. Where is it? All the above was true home. It passed. Even my childhood home no longer stands. People. People are home.

After it is all said done it is people who shape your world, shape how you feel about it, what you might desire from it, and even the negative aspects in how you act and react are influenced by people.

We define our own choices based on what we know, learn, reason, and through the process of trial and error strategies. We pass on our survival skills as best we can in action, words, and reactions.

Without people, there is no civilization and no place to call home in the manner of all humans.

We are the constructs of our imaginations and hearts.

The evidence: Architecture, art, music, clothing, cell phones, cars, computers, airplanes, thought philosophy’s, policies, government, movies, the foundations and structures that make up civilization, on and on it goes…

We make choices and decision based on the world we create around us. At one time those things were wilder, chaotic, and without boundaries. People harnessed the wild power of creation adding boundaries to shape the world as we know it.

We still have that power. We are born with it. Yet civilizations, come and go. Even our planet and universe one day will die.

Where am I going with this? Life is tough. The only constant is change. The only inevitable death.

To embrace change is to embrace life, so why is it the hardest damn thing in the world to do? Why is it so painful? Why do we resist so hard? Why is some change just the opposite?

Change is like a melody of emotion, yet it is resistance, and it is the use of that change, that shapes lives and worlds.

Yet I can only experience any of that from my single point of view. It’s down to one. One decision, one action, one choice, and then another, one at a time. People need people to build kingdoms and to destroy them.

The point? It is a damn good thing I can always change my mind and start again. There is only no hope if I stop looking for hope. Even death in the unknown brings change.

Change is an inner weaving circle. It is eternal, which makes opportunity infinite. Opportunity will present, but I must watch, wait, and recognize it.

So, life may very well be in the lamentation, and so enters faith which brings hope. I am one. I enter whole and exit into infinity.

What is 1 divided by Infinity? Quora Answer.


Originally published at Juneta Key.

photos pixabay.com