Yesterday I wandered my neighborhood in Denver with nastalgia. I really found myself in my Shambhala retreat on Pearl Street. I was sad and happy to see things change...the gelato place I knew wouldn't make it, indeed didn't make it. Different cupcake flavors at City O City, but the same Bhakti Chai. The beautiful courthouse building nearby was torn down, but he library across the street remains intact.
My Denver studio will always feel like home (evidenced also by the fact that my door code still works - like any good creeper I had to test it out); I fell in love there, found myself there, and created my future direction. It has been two years since I quit my "should" job and since that moment my life hasn't been the same. That apartment saved me and so did Denver; out of the parent's basement (again) and on with life. I think it's so important to celebrate and witness such milestones. It reminds us of how far we've come - in my case 229.4 miles (but who's counting).
My parents' house was the first place I've lived when we came to Colorado from Germany during my teenage angst years. I didn't know anyone and spent most of my time with my neighbors playing outside and hiking in the foothills across the street. After college when I came back to Colorado Springs I also stayed at this house and again during my quarter-life crisis.
That's what home does - it gives us a place for the familiar with lots of room to grow. Home (and om) is where the heart is...and it can have many locations.
Today I'm grateful for Taz, Boo, and Riley.
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