Last night, we drove to Berkeley with friends for an evening with Rupert Spira.
He’s been traveling rather nonstop, yet he seemed fresh, relaxed, bright.
It reminded me of a conversation with him at dinner at a retreat last year. Someone asked him–after recent international travel and several full days of teaching–“Aren’t you tired?”
Rupert responded, “No, not at all.” He seemed mildly surprised at the question.
“How can that be?” the other person asked.
“I’m always at home,” he replied softly.
© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2012
(photo from his website)
the heart of the matter 
What makes me not at home anywhere? The feeling I am unsafe.
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Thank you for this… a reminder of this possibility when we are in the midst of getting settled here in Cairo. After apartment hunting and long hot days,sometimes a thought occurs to want to be settled and home here. Realize I am always home. Nice.
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Very nice. I like Spira.
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yes, where else could we be? Lovely to see this picture of our dear Rupert and learn that you were just with him.
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Reblogged this on Notes from the Bluegrass and commented:
I keep trying to learn to hold that calm centered place all the time — though I haven’t achieved it, I imagine that “always home” is what it feels like….
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