What does it mean to be at home? To feel at home? Inside your body? Your embodied self in the world? In the place you name “home?”
It’s rare that I feel the need to check the weather before leading my practice group into savasana, but tonight I did. Knowing how long it would take the last person to get home, I checked again as everyone gathered their things. There was just enough time if we did not tarry.
I had previously committed to volunteering at the Lantern at the same time as the demonstration at the White House against the separation, incarceration, and deportation of those seeking asylum. I left the house an hour early and got off the bus at Farragut Square instead of taking it all the way to Georgetown. Volunteers were actively coordinating and people were starting to gather.
I talked to people who were heading over as I walked on to the Lantern, and I brought the demonstration with me.
Drops of ice like jewels on the telephone wires.
