*That is, the home is temporary. Mindfulness, well. . . the work is in keeping it from being temporary, isn't it?
The professor and I left our comfortable, built-by-us home on March 1, 2017 and have been on the road ever since. We each have a clothes bag and a business bag. All told, together we're carrying about 65 litres or 40kg worth of our belongings. Four months into our journey, that feels like an excess of clothes, some days. We've dropped a few things and taken a few things on. We are required to be tidy, so that everything fits in our packs and everything travels along with us and doesn't get mistakenly left behind.
For me, I found a Persian rug while thrift shopping with Reinekke in her tiny Netherlands town. I saw it and loved it! I thought I'd carry it for a while and then ship it home. What happened, though, is that it has accompanied me everywhere: the weight being worth its comfort when I stepped out of bed every morning and onto its warmth. In practicing a certain kind of impermanence, this week, I left it at my parents' for safekeeping.
These things, however, are merely things. I was reminded of this the other day while tidying my laptop's "desktop." I purposefully keep it light, because I like to have only a few things that delight me on it. It had been a while since I had looked at the half-dozen or so clips there, and I happened to open this list of ten tips by Karen Maezen Miller. I don't know where it is from, or when it felt significant enough to clip and keep. Today, it speaks to me as I travel: as "home" is a moving space.
Meanwhile. . . I've just come back from three weeks apart from the professor while we each visited our parents, and what I realized most is that he is home for me. Others caught me saying that I would be flying home soon and wondered what I meant. I caught myself saying it, too. And what I meant was that we'd be together again.
With that in mind, I look at this list differently again. I haven't studied Zen Buddhism, but surely the words of Maezen are designed to reflect in as many directions as we take moments to look at them.
And so here I am, reflecting on the keeping of my mindful "homes," the temporary one that keeps me warm and dry, and the imaginary one of relationship.