The Profound Meaning of "Home"

Some people write a lot of personal viewpoints and about what is going on in their lives on their art blogs and I enjoy hearing and reading about that.  I think it helps to make the "blogger person" into a real entity and gives some depth to to the art displayed.  

I tend to write weather reports and comments about what art mediums I am currently playing with.  Not very personal.  The journal prompt challenge this year is something rather new to me.  It offers me a chance to try out lots of fascinating media, which I love, and to share ideas with a whole new set of bloggers.  

But journaling also opens up the chance to explore your feelings and what's up inside your head on a regular basis.  Sometimes that definitely colors the journal pages of the people who I follow…sadness, pride, love, hope, illness…as well as dreams and joys and family, etc.  

This is the 10th week of journal prompts.  I am trying to keep up with them and I suppose I will get off schedule now and again as life "interrupts art" at times.  Sometimes the pages look good…have composition and interesting art work and drawings.  

This prompt does not have any of that…in fact it's not anything I'm artistically really proud of at all.  Even posting it took some thought. But it has emotion.

The prompt was just "Look up" this week.  Nothing specific and allowed us to just think about what was going on in our minds and allowed us to be inspired by music, other art, literature, poetry, whatever was going on at the moment.  

I just finished reading Peter Heller's book Dog Stars.

If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.  The journal is a response to it and it is about "Homecoming".  Hubby and I just got home from a week's trip away and somehow "being home and comfy in our own surroundings again" reminded me of the joy of the meaning of the word "home" which to me is profound.  Peter quotes the poet Li Shang-Yin at the end so that is what is written on my page.

When Will I be Home?

When will I be home? 

I don't know.

In the mountains, 

in the rainy night.

the Autumn lake is flooded.

Someday we will be back together again.

We will sit in the candlelight by the west window.

and I will tell you how I remembered you

Tonight on the stormy mountain.