When I Think of Home…

Years ago, in Colombia, South American the first time, I was on the ride of my life in terms of using my acquired skills, creative and otherwise. It was a whirlwind of celebrity status activity. Back home I used to tell my partner that I felt like a corvette stuck in the slow lane. In South America, I was moving into full throttle. I’d found my lane. On a particular day in conversation with my son in his senior year, he asked if I missed home. I hesitated then answered…

“I miss you guys.”

The conversation proceeded. After I hung up I gave some serious thought to the question and my hesitance when asked whether I missed home. Strangely enough, I felt like I was home. What is home and what does that mean truly? Is home where the heart rests or revs? Perhaps, considering that, home is a duality. On the one hand it is the place where we find solace, comfort, and protection from the outside world with our lockable doors and closable windows. It is the place where we can curl up and sleep, away from the hustle and bustle of the world at large. We live there but…can we truly live there? Before the pandemic, a general handful compared, made their living from home. Most had to go out into the world to have their living made. Home was safe and removed. We can’t just stay there and truly live. Can we…

The other idea of home is nearly the polar opposite. We speak of the eagle being at home on the wing or some adventurer at home on the open seas. That is where they feel truly alive. Where they make their imprint upon this life. Where legacies are churned out and history is written in blood, sweat, and years. That notion of home is where, like what Ray Charles said, We let it do what it do. It’s what pumps the blood running hot in our veins, opens up our nostrils and makes us raise our head to the heavens in the joyful throes of applying our abilities to the world stage. But can we live there…fully? If we remained in that space, adrenaline pumping, eyes glossy with the need for more, we would surely burn out. We would wear ourselves to a frazzled fanatic, crash and burn out like boxers who stay in the ring too long, or rappers who don’t realize it’s time to pass the mike.

Home, then, is not just a place, but an idea of an ideal. A balance between spaces of operation. We need the safe space and the hairpin curves in order to glean the most from what this life has to offer. When I was in South America, and had that conversation with my son, my engine was humming, running with rpms tapping the right side. I was wide open, testing the road. I felt so alive. I was home. However, I know I couldn’t live in that whirlwind of activity. I’d burn out. Back at home in Alabama, I’d felt that corvette in the slow lane feeling too long. I felt there was not enough room to spread my wings. I was turning into gel. The key to fit the ignition of who we are is found in the right combination of the nest and the wing, to find the harmony between our ways of being. To weave them together in a tapestry that we can wear with impunity is where we find our unique rhythm. Instead of being slowed, pushed, prodded, and carried along by the whims of the world, invest some time into tuning this life…your life. It really can take you where you want to be. Let’s go home.