The real home.

The recent floods in Sri Lanka got me reflecting. I have built a home with my wife. We are blessed to have a roof over our heads. It’s a nice feeling. I have lived in boarding places and annexes — places owned by others. Back then, I craved for a place of my own.

I felt the pain of the flood affected, their agony of losing what they have built, bought, and cared for.

What if it happens to me ?

It is easier to ponder, and move on. I could even say ‘I will bear it.’

But truth is, I got pangs in my belly as if the end of the world was near. How come a place I built to make me safe became a pain even at the thought of losing it.

Isn’t this attachment in the mind that makes me sad? Though I can contemplate it is a pile of cement, sand, bricks, wood and glass, why is it so hard to let go of the attachment I conveniently tag as ‘safety.’

I have seen tsunami. I have seen many floods. I have seen people losing their hard earned properties. Suddenly I understood the pain my parents went through when they had to sell their home they lived for 25 years, so that they could come to Colombo to stay closer to their grown up kids.

So this physical homes are not really ‘home’, is it ?

In deep reflection, I realized the real home is in my heart. The ability to see through my attachments and activating the need to release them is the start of building the real ‘home.’