Hiraeth
N. (Welsh)- A spiritual longing for a home which maybe never was. Nostalgia for ancient places to which we can not return. It is the echo of the lost places of our soul’s past and our grief for them. It is in the wind, and the rocks, and the waves. It is nowhere and everywhere.

This word Hiraeth resonates with me. Kind of sums up that achy emptiness I can feel in my heart in the core of my being most days when I take the time to stop and listen and breathe into the question of what makes a home a home.

My experience of home has mostly been about an outer place —a permanent address that holds all my “things” alongside my memories of growing up and my memories of raising kids. Recently, with my home of the last 17 years on the market and under contract without a clear sense of what is next, I have had to expand my definition of home to include how I relate to my “inner terrain” or gut—the home within. Anchoring in that new place I trust will provide the stability I deeply desire and release some of the fear about being on my own. It is both a liberating and a scary time. I have always tried to have my house be a safe welcoming beautiful cared for space—a sanctuary. To uproot? that is well unsettling. To create it within is an intentional process that prioritizes self care and so anywhere I go, I will have home with me.

The place my children have known as their home is under contract. Thoughts about how to store and sort through years of accumulation feels daunting. I feel tossed into this tender realization of impermanence and flow. Trust. I knew the house sale was coming but the finality is approaching quickly. Letting go of home/yard gives me less burden with maintenance and the traps and bells and whistles that home ownership affords. And? it was my dream to stay in it—to grow our food, to raise farm animals, to have community and to be able to walk to the trails, the markets, and to friends homes forever.

The online definition of home is complex and varied. It can be seen as a place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. It can be called a house. A place where you can live, learn and laugh and you are loved, respected and cared for. A dwelling place. A shelter. A place where you fit in or feel you share something in common with other members. A home’s significance is in having a place that you leave in the morning and come back to in the evening. A place of centering. Identity, control, belonging and security and privacy.

My first “home” was in the watery embryonic fluid of my mothers womb. Then came a dresser drawer in a tiny house among a row of cheap houses just outside the wired enclosure of the army base where my Dad was stationed. I spent hours in my home on wheels—a pram. We moved when I was one. My second home was at the end of a cul de sac that had open space behind it. It was a nice home space to my maternal grandparents gentleman farm. I shared a room with my sister. My two other siblings would eventually join us. I was there during my elementary years. My third home was just a half hour away but situated on a corner of my grandparents land. I would have my own room in my parents dream home with a blue shag rug and green walls. I picked the room and the colors. That carried me through my teenage years and through college.

My first house purchase after many house shares in my young professional years, was very exciting. Moving and building; buying and selling, navigating new needs. And, now, I get to sit with the question, Where is home for me now? Am I attached to a vision?

In each of my early childhood homes, I had all my needs met. At least it felt like that. I had a nice roof over my head and plenty of food. We had help around for cleaning, farming, and for when we went on vacation. We had extended family nearby. We had pets and gardens and lawns to mow and fields of hay to bale. Homelife was full and busy. We had parties and celebrated holidays and brought friends over. We had a stable place to grow up and go to school. I never really thought about the value of home. Until now.

As a young adult, I moved around quite a bit sharing space with other young professionals. When I got married, my husband and I rented for a bit then with the arrival of our first child, we purchased our first home together. A few other homes or living situations happened and then we found a place that felt right to raise our boys close to school and playing fields.

Now, I sit in unknown territory. Change happens and I/we are in it. Someone will buy it. It brings up grief and memories of good times. The one thing I really wanted to do was to move out of inspiration not because we have to. There lies the difference.

But that all applies if the only thing you think about is home as an outer expression. With kids growing up and out of their nest, there will still be family time, it just will look differently. Flexibility and courage to leave a place that has been so comfortable can be hard but I have heard people say that there is a world outside this Boulder bubble. Saying goodbye to neighbors has been the most painful part of the process so far. And the honoring of the bigness of letting go.

I have lived out of my car for a few months at a time and I have house sat. It has been an adventure, but that is temporary. My choice. It is exciting but also exhausting to be on the move. That being said, since I love to cook and I love my bath, I want a version of a home. A place and space of my own. It doesn’t have to be fancy but simple security. Just find me a parcel of land that allows me to have somewhere that I can stay without being bothered. Close to the Earth. A place I can grow food. Maybe one that has a mailbox with a postal address so I can hear from you and stay connected.

Boulder has been a great place to call home. Now that chapter is closing, I look forward to seeing what part of the world I will be settling down in. The mystery and magic of me manifesting a place and a place finding me will be part of my journey. In this place of unknowing is room for possibility and hope of a just right living situation. I’ll hold that vision close to my heart as I dance under the full moons and check in with my heart and inner knowing for ongoing clarity.

The time between now and closing will surely be a give and take between my outer and inner knowing of “home” especially since my choice to some degree must still consider other. The freedom that comes from meditating on this word has brought peace and light to an otherwise frightening concept—homelessness.

Does anyone have a cabin in the woods available? Kidding. Not.