As I write I am sitting in the airport in San Diego...heading home. Or at least headed home to the loft I own, to the address where my mail is delivered. I love my loft. It's familiar and comfortable but even there I find myself feeling like a stranger at times. Not at home in my own home!

Maybe it lies in the fact that in many ways my loft is just a piece of geography. I've been reflecting on what it takes for my heart to be at home. I've always been a bit of an old, unsettled soul. I have spent the majority of my life internally wrestling with angst of some sort, wistfully looking for the next adventure.

For the last three years, my job has been the seemingly perfect fit for me. I travel most days of most weeks of the year. This trip that is ending has taken me to Kansas City, Norfolk, Raleigh, Denver, Steamboat Springs and San Diego...and 10 days. As of today...before the two flights I have that will get me to Chicago, I have flown 163 flights so far this year and spent approximately 140 nights in a hotel. And you thought a ski trip without skiing was pathetic!

I have this friend who lives in Santa Barbara with her husband and two adorable girls. Gurney is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since we started college over 20 years ago but over the last 5 years she has become even dearer to me. (A wonderful benefit of my life on the road...) One of the crazy things I've experienced is that my heart is at home when I am with her and her family. When I visit I stay at their house - which may seem like nothing to you but staying at people's houses makes me want to crawl out of my skin:-) It's not that my friends are weird it's just that I seldomly feel at home. But when I am at Gurney's house I relax. I can breathe. I can be loved - and believe it. I can be still (see previous entry!). It is a gift to me every time I am there, and I surprised by the pleasure of it every time!

What I am beginning to think is that maybe my soul sometimes longs for what isn't best for it. Maybe my soul's longing/instinct to explore, be independent, be moving is born out of fear rather than some other, more noble lineage. Maybe rather than the next adventure...or the next flight...or the next hotel room...my soul needs home. And maybe for the undragon-ing of me to be done I need roots and a home that is more than geography. I am quite certain that the pursuit of my soul being at home may cost me something...which is likely why I am so inclined to avoid the ponderings in the direction of home...