Being in America, a cultural and racial melting pot, many residents here are … arrivals from somewhere else. Certainly, there are some blue blooded “Americans” (The Kennedys?)from generations ago, the more the well established mainstream status-quo residents but … there are many immigrants, on both ends of and in-between the economic scales who identify more with their native “home” or their “old” country. What often happens is how many of us may feel this odd sense of disconnect as much as we try to assimilate and fit in. At times, the feeling is best described by words of a friend I empathized with. The other day as she described where she grew up and where her families now resided, then she uttered these words:
“What am I doing here?”
She too appeared to be pondering that question – what am I doing here? Do we each feel that way sometimes – maybe even if you were born and raised in America – maybe just maybe, even if you were one of the Kennedy’s or a Rockefeller? Maybe we all ask that question – What am I doing HERE? What is the purpose and meaning of me being HERE? Why here; if not there? Why?
Like a dandelion puff that floats and travels, we germinate our seeds to take root … no longer a transplant. Your home is where you designate it to be, with one-pointed focused intention. Your home is really … within. You belong.
