Lately I have been feeling like there is no place where my heart feels at home. Not with family. Not with my closest friends. There is always…a gap. Like all of us, I want to walk into a place and feel, ‘at last I belong! These are my people!’ A place where I will feel understood and that someone (anyone!) sees me. When I begin to despair that this will ever happen, this is what I remind myself.
That though we are earthlings, our hearts are not earthly hearts. They are made from some mysterious substance from beyond the universe, from ethereal wisps plucked from a distant land and placed in each of our hearts. These wisps are probably ordinary where they are from, but brought to earth they are magical, powerful, mysterious. Like superman. They do not belong here. There is a scripture that says that we are foreigners and strangers on earth, forever searching for a home, but never finding one in this life.
If we find a home it is when we encounter another remnant of our homeland—in another’s heart, in nature, in a higher power. It happens in magical moments. The laughter of a friend. A special first kiss. Digging fingers into earth. Helping a stranger. Doing something good. Loving someone. Being loved. Grass and mountain air. Being held when you are suffering. Sharing in someone’s joy.
We chase these moments—falling in love, physical enjoyment, entertainment, enlightenment, relationships, even service and doing good deeds. But sooner or later we end up disappointed. We are expecting that we will be able to find a place here on earth where our heart feels at home. But if we understand that fundamentally there is a mismatch—that we are living in a world, where our hearts do not belong—then we will not be surprised. Rather we will be grateful for every chance our heart gets to meet with that spectacular and warm substance that is the mist of our foreland. And we will know that it is not possible for our heart to be at home here—except in ourselves, except in the mysterious power we do not understand, except in the meeting of hearts with another. But these are gifts and not givens. If we understand we do not belong here, we will live better with the almost incurable longing in our hearts for a home.