So, where to begin? Which is the perfect story to share with you guys first? Any epic one full of adventure? Tales of exotic places? Filled with hilarity and inevitable stupidity? Or a sentimental one I alway keep close to the heart?.. ? Yeah I really wasn’t sure either! Until sitting here wondering which string of disasters to detail, I decided maybe the perfect place to start isn’t with a tale of adventures but with a reflection of where they’ve brought me; Home.
Its been two and a half years since I was back, just at home with the family for an extended period of time, and my return has been wonderful. The last two weeks have, of course, been hectic, and crazy and of course full of little disasters. But now I’ve had time to step back and just feel what it’s like to be back I’ve realised exactly what coming home feels like! It’s like settling into huge fluffy beanbag that fits just perfectly around you, like it remembers just how you like to sit. It’s been years, but in coming home I’ve realised I still fit. Fit more perfectly than I ever realised I did, because all our little imperfections just work together. Almost like our individual imperfections are all pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, that when put together they make a family.
Returning to the family has also brought my back to something else I’ve sorely missed, my full music collection. Now call me old fashioned, but as much as I love the ease, and accessibility of Spotify and Apple Music, a recorded tune never sounds as good as it does on Vinyl!.. and when that’s not an option, CDs or cassettes are the next best thing. So I’ve been returned to all the music I love that I just couldn’t fit on either my iPhone or iPod, and I’ve been making the most of it. Pretty much listening none stop. There’s been on track that really resonating right now with me; Home by Gabrielle Aplin, it’s a beautiful song I’ve always loved, but never quite as much as right now. Go ahead, have a listen! It’s ok… I’ll wait.
Amazing right? For me this is encapsulating the frazzled state I was/am in. I’m not even sure for the most point I realised. So busy putting on foot in front of the other, being swept of my feet time and time again, and just trying to make the most of each day. I’m not even sure I knew what I was missing, or how much coming back here would help me. I didn’t realise that I’d been so far from ‘home’ because I didn’t realise exactly what I was walking away from. I’d been wondering the world, without realising that without a home the world outside it loses some of its’ wonder. And in returning I’ve realise exactly what home is to me, and what I’d become without it. Now (hopefully) in coming home, and learning the importance of home to me, I’ll be able to carry a small part of it with me when I return to the world. In a letter to the Bishop of Lincoln Abraham Cowley wrote:-
“For the whole world, without a home, Is nothing but a prison of larger rooms”
Being home is returning me to myself. Pulling me back together and giving me the strength to go back out into the world. Showing me that I can only really be myself when I have a home to go back to, because what’s the point in all our daft and disastrous adventures if there’s no one to go home to and share them with. Stories are only full of wonder, excitement and inspiration when someone is there to hear them. So I guess what I’m saying is, once you find the people who can take you home, it doesn’t matter where you go, as long as you have them! So, take them with you when you leave, don’t forget them on the road, and remember they are you home. And, go back to them.
Yours, Disaster Dreaming x