home is me

Photo credit: Miriam Arnedo

Neither here nor there, is where? Home. 
Home is me. And there’s no place like it!

I’ve been getting supes existential lately. Because life’s all about that existing, man!

I find it fun prying into my head and heart to poke around the inner workings of my weird wiring — to ponder, play with and make meaningful sense of it.

It seems one of my newly found f*ckyeahs is this: being existential. It’s not emo. It just is. Like that chair over there.

Tapping into my inner existentialist has connected me to a wellspring of my Art, and it’s f-ing fun! I would even contribute the poems that come through post-run (it’s not all runner’s high), as well as writing and creating more in general to this particular f*ckyeah.

Anyway, I had another direction I wanted to go with this musing (spoiler alert: to write about “home”), but then this flowed through — so I’m flowing with it. Existentialism and home are “technically” one and the same to me because…

…home is me. 

So even though I’m “technically” homeless right now (per life circumstances), I am always home.

I’ve been existing — living — in other peoples’ homes thanks to Trusted Housesitters, taking care of animals, which is by far my life’s greatest calling.