Ah, the blessing and curse of beloved words. Yesterday, I said “return home to what I am.” Chuckling as I reread that now, because there is no leaving home, ever. It’s not possible.
Yet somehow, the busyness made it feel as though I’d been somewhere–and awaring sipping silence felt like a return. Feelings are as insubstantial and impermanent as thoughts. Not to demean either–love them, too–simply to notice.
© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
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the heart of the matter 
On of my favorite blessings I’d like to share with you:
“When I call on the light of my soul, I come home.”
Your posting reminded me of it and I’d thought I’d share it with you.
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