Home

“One of the oldest themes in feminine mythology is the search for home. Tales of separation and wandering have been repeated through the ages, the question, ‘Where is my home?’ the plaintive lament of the woman in exile. Dispossessed, denigrated, diminished, the role of the powerful feminine, the goddess, in society has been subordinated to male gods leaving a passive narrowly subscribed shell where once passion, eroticism and playfulness reigned along with ambition, authority and dominion. The patriarchy has existed for eons and it is no less relevant today as we women, daughters of the patriarchy, still search for our rightful place, the qualities in ourselves that will make us whole and the roles in society that would bring these qualities to bear for the good of the world.”[i]

My dark night story is all about my search for home. This particular stage of my journey essentially involves a transition from identification with my material home, the outward place I live, to identification with my spiritual home, the inward place I dwell.  However, I can also see the arc of my entire life story as focused on home. It is the thread that keeps recurring in the tapestry of my life, sometimes by my own choice and sometimes not.

The facts of the story are that I have lived in 23 homes so far in my six decades, an average of 3 years each, the shortest duration a few months and the longest a few years. In just the past 4 years of this dark night journey, I have moved 3 times, lived in 5 different homes, and done 3 complete renovations. On the surface, there were always rational reasons for these moves – my father was moved around in his job when I was a kid, I liked to fix up old houses and use the profit to fund my schooling, I wanted to be close to my son and grandsons. Underneath these tangible facts, though, was a deeper seeking, a drive for a sense of home that despite all my efforts I was missing.

It has taken a long time to realize I needed to turn inward. I have pursued serial careers, degrees and partnerships, each one expanding the scale and depth of my capacity in the field of change, most directly or indirectly centred on a sense of place, of helping others to feel more at home in their worlds. Ironically, only recently have I recognized that change in all these outward dimensions has diminishing returns without the correlative degree of change on the inside, in the evolution of our own consciousness. It is only in the past year I have been able to name this transition in me as a dark night and begin to inquire into its characteristics, although I see it stretching back at least 4 or 5 years.

It began with a feeling I needed a change of focus. My work had become less satisfying and life seemed to be missing something, a spark or new energy. I first did another degree program, looking for new stimulation that didn’t materialize. I thought a move to the country might do the trick, a new environment, new people and a new lease on life. When that didn’t work, I decided to retire and move to a new city on the other side of the country, again looking for the magic. And on it went, searching on the outside for something that could only be found on the inside.

With each of these unsuccessful attempts, it was becoming clearer I needed to concentrate not on doing but on being, a dramatic shift of my energy and intention. It was like cracking an egg. In slow motion, everything fell apart. I experienced breakdown, depression and darkness for a couple of years. It wasn’t continuous but would come in cycles, usually punctuated by my failure to find my place in the outside world, driving me back into my dark inner world. It was a time of incredible turmoil as I let go of who I was and searched for who I would become.  I vacillated between frenzied energy and complete exhaustion, hopefulness and despair. The tools I had counted on – my agile mind and a persistent determination – didn’t seem to count anymore. Feelings seemed to rule the day, everything from anger, frustration, sadness to apathy, isolation, loneliness.

However, as I worked my way through, I found a growing sense of rebirth, joy and freedom. I began to experience laughter, lightness and love. I was very fortunate to have a group of friends and colleagues who supported me through my inner journey. I see it now as a spiritual quest, seeking my essential nature, my ultimate home in myself. In addition to attending and leading personal development workshops over these last years, I have meditated twice daily, filled several journals, read countless books, done silent and guided retreats, and spent long hours in stillness. I have also had the benefit of many deep conversations that have provided insights and inspiration along the way. It is hard work. It takes courage and the patience and support of others. The result is a coming home to grace, that spacious indwelling of joy in being alive, compassion for others, and loving embrace of all that is. I am grateful every day.

[i] The Hunger for Home

By Zenju Earthlyn Manuel – Spring 2018 In Upaya Newsletter

 

Nastos, an endless longing for home, for an archetypal abode of comfort and belonging whose reality is palpable even while we know there is no such place on earth. 

Marlene Schiwy, Gypsy Fugue

What is it about home for me? Of course, there is the vagabond, the adventurer, the renovator, the restless change agent with serial careers, educations, partners, searching for the “abode of comfort and belonging”, good for a while but then inevitably the itching, the discontent, the seeing of holes in the story.  A temporariness about life.

Is it not trusting that it will last? Getting in front of the inevitable abandonment? That’s part of it perhaps. I felt abandoned as a child. My mother, pictured here, wanted to be an artist, or out dancing, partying, not stuck with three little kids and her husband’s elderly mother. Or at least that’s the story I’ve told myself. It makes some sense as it allows me to be a seeker, a yearner for home.

But what if that’s not it? What else is here? Maybe I entered the world feeling abandoned by my spiritual home, not ready to be here, not wanting this home and yearning to be back, safe, without suffering. Did I know this was a ‘life sentence’ at some level? I do have the sense I arrived angry, a mad as hell little creature who wasn’t at home and was not to be comforted.

So my mother, then, was not the abandoner. She was the rescuer, the comforter, provider for my needs in this world where I didn’t belong. She was in a sense the victim, not the perpetrator and I was inconsolable. Wow! What a dark witch!!

If that’s so, then the search, the sadness, the yearning for home is something I cannot have here on earth. I am destined to wander, to seek and not find, lament and rage and hunger for what I can never have, to suffer until the return and gift of death. I can find a kind of home here if I understand it is not ultimate or infinite, always partial and temporary. I can begin to understand the dark feminine in me that disrupts, destroys, is careless and selfish and demanding in my search for what I can’t have. I have lived my life as a temper tantrum, like a two-year old, dedicated to my own path despite the consequences for myself and others. I have been running my baby carriage into the wall, a story often told of me as a toddler, all my life.

What are the consequences then of this hidden dark path? Restlessness, hunger, inability to really love, to trust another, or even myself? Always looking for what’s NOT there, at some level knowing it’s not right, not whole. This dark feminine, my dark sister, has been bubbling below the surface and erupting when the pressure built without my even knowing it. My vagabond has been running away from life and love as well as seeking adventure and discovery. I have told myself countless times, perhaps home is just around the corner – a new job, new interest, new relationship, out there somewhere waiting if I just persist, adapt, keep looking.

So now after a long dark passage and a reunion with my dark inner sister, I know home is not out there, it’s in here, as good as it gets. What does that teach me? To acknowledge and honour the dark feminine energy but not let it drive me, to bring it into balance and wholeness. To allow both the gypsy and the settler, the permanent and sustaining as well as the transient and temporary, and to know they are interwoven, inseparable, the darkness and the light as opportunity in every moment.