I was driving through this beautiful valley north of Corleone, Sicily when I saw a roman style bridge I wanted to photograph. I parked in a wide spot at the entrance to a field and then walked up the road to get the right angle on the photo. There were very few cars coming that way so it was relatively quiet. I could hear only a dog barking across the valley and a tractor working at some distance. I took some photos and then walked back to the car. The air was so pleasant and so still, I flirted with the idea of staying there the rest of the afternoon. I sat down on a boulder and took in my surroundings for awhile before getting back in the car.

Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of “being home”. I felt just as “at home” as I would if I really were at home. Then I felt as if I “belonged” to this place – like it owned me. And I felt it belonged to me too. Then it occurred to me that this feeling of “being home” was something inside me. It had nothing to do with any actual place I was in. (I might just as well feel “at home” while not at home as I might feel “not at home” while at home.) I suddenly got it that “home” is an orientation I carry around with me. It is a feeling I am coming up with myself. There is nothing that prevents me from feeling at home anywhere I might choose to be and there is nothing outside of me that can help me if I don’t feel “at home” for some reason.

by