Originally posted by Itisnowagain
reply to post by ottobot
So why don't you feel at home where ever you are?
I woke up from a deep sleep, dreaming of home, with a perfect understanding of home and I needed to get up and tell it to you.
Home is a lighthouse, a beacon on a shore that I can see.
I am a ship in the ocean, drifting.
I see the lighthouse, and I realize that I cannot reach the lighthouse by riding the ship. If I try to reach the lighthouse by riding the ship, I will
be crushed upon the rocks between the ship and the lighthouse.
But, in the ship, I carry a miniature version of the lighthouse. It is just as bright, it is just as warm, but it resides in my ship.
When I was out at sea, drifting aimlessly, I covered the lighthouse with many layers of dark netting. I did not want to remember the light and warmth
of the lighthouse because it just served as a reminder that I did not have the lighthouse on the shore. I only had the lighthouse in the ship, but I
really just wanted to be at the lighthouse on the shore.
Once in awhile, the netting would slip off of the lighthouse, and it would start to shine. It would shine and I would see it, and I would remember the
lighthouse. I would want to return to the lighthouse on the shore. But, as I would go to remove the netting from my ship-bound lighthouse, I would
remember: I am on a ship, adrift at sea... I do not know the direction of the lighthouse on shore... I will not go find it, because I am at sea and it
is on shore. I would then cover the lighthouse of my ship with as much netting as possible because I did not want to remember the lighthouse on
A few times, I weathered turbulent storms while adrift at sea. When the clouds cleared, I looked up and there was the lighthouse, directly in front of
me. The sea had brought me back to the lighthouse. But, I was afraid and confused. Why was I back at the lighthouse? How had the sea brought the ship
back to the lighthouse, when the ship was not being steered? I turned my ship and sailed away as fast as possible.
I worked on my ship, to fix the damage that had been done by the ocean and by the storms. I had it almost fixed, when I happened upon the netting
covering the lighthouse of my ship. I looked at it, afraid to touch it. I looked at it for a long time, and did not touch it.
A wave came along and knocked me off balance, and the netting shifted to reveal the lighthouse - burning just as strongly and just as brightly and
warmly as ever. I was in awe. I felt joy. I felt grateful. I felt grace.
I threw those nets off of the lighthouse of my ship, and I felt that awe and joy and gratefulness and grace. I polished the lighthouse of my ship and
I keep it shining brightly.
I brought my ship in from the open sea, I am no longer drifting.
When I look out over the sea, I see the lighthouse of the shore, and it makes me smile.
I still cannot get there by driving my ship to it, but I know that one day, my ship will bank on the shore and I will see the path that leads me over
the shore to the lighthouse. I will bring the lighthouse of my ship to the lighthouse on shore, and they will become One lighthouse and I will bask in
their light and warmth and beauty and grace.
I am always the lighthouse, and I always carry the lighthouse, but I am not always One lighthouse.