When I think of place, I can’t help but think of the song, Home on the Range.
Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play.
Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word,
And the sky is not cloudy all day.
Isn’t that what we’re all looking for? Home. A place. A nest. A bed.
We’e especially hoping for the part about no discouraging word.
When we move in with our beloved and his children we bring our things, we put clean sheets on the bed, we try to settle into the obvious space.
Less obvious is the settling we must do inside that place in the heart, the heart inside our chest, not the heart inside the beloved’s chest. The heart that houses the deepest place of our belonging. Before we will fit in any other place, we must have belonging inside the self.
In the beginning, an invitation is extended, to enter into the home of the beloved. Consider that invitation and whether space was made for you, separate from whether you feel you have a place. Was there space vacated to make room for you?
Then, the invitation is accepted. Consider the acceptance. Did you fully accept the invitation or secretly leave strings attached like a lifeline back to some other time, just in case this one doesn’t work out. When you’ve severed old lifelines, only then will the settling and adjusting to your new circumstances have begun.
Finding place is easy. Settling into place and heart can take years.