2000-10-07 - 09:52 MDT

October 7, 2000

Cellmate

Once again, driven to the Thinking Place by Sandy's Message Board my mind is still moiling over what "coming home" means to me.

It is a thing that has happened to me from the first time I became a little thinking being in very early childhood. Going someplace with Mom and Dad and later "coming home," arriving at a place of comfort and security accompanied by those I loved.

In reality, it has changed little over the years -- only becoming more broad in its scope. Home and Coming Home, to me, must first be a concept held in my mind, its definition deep rooted in my being. Then all the accessories of Coming Home follow in my thought. Warm, comfortable, with a secure place to live (residential and mental), with family or loved ones, doing for and being done for. Coming to a place where I am listened to and my statements are well considered and replied to. Coming Home to the community of friends and associates I would miss greatly if they suddenly weren't there anymore.

There is an infinite multitude of degrees of Coming Home, from the aforementioned in passing, and of flopping in my own, favorite easy chair on to the the immmense act of drawing closer to my Maker and anything in between.

It is of my mind in so many ways, and of my heart, and of my desire for closeness to humans. Of some particular locations -- changeable as they may be.

There is a new room in my home now, the Cyber room which is peopled with a multitude of people who by the very act of reading other peoples writings and responding to them, fill that room to overflowing. Being able to ache for others and exuberate with them at other times (new word back there, mine, I like it) to peacefully communicate and relate, which seems to give me the kinship of a mental family and friends.

Coming Home ? In every facet of life for me there is a Coming Home which comforts me and makes me feel loved and secure.

Now, if I am in prison -- the whole world is my cellmate.

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