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Saturday, March 6, 2010
In the mist of all this confusion, I thought that if I could do a little self taking, I could make it all go away. To my surprise, the harder I tried to displace, forget or abandon this raging rollercoaster in my head, the deeper and more penetrating the wounds became.
As my mind raced on, I searched to try and understand the anguish the people of Haiti and other countries who have experienced recent devastation, must feel being lost and displaced from their homes.
In my dream, I too was losing this war of life, to emptiness and longingness.
Webster describes a home as a place in which ones domestic affections are centered; a dwelling or retreat; a place of refuge; the destination or goal.
The very moment I surrendered to the consciousness of my heart, and ceased from carrying the sword of blame; of anger and the sword of hate, was when I clearly saw a path towards a place where there was no signs of crying, sickness, pain, or death.
It was a place filled with familiarity, peace, love and happiness..... a place to call my own.
The dream and the search ended.