Each day we take one, two, ten, a thousand steps closer to our goal of abiding in the simple place of belonging. But it is an elusive trek. So many of us get divided inside, stranded at some crossroads, far from the hearth of home. What comes to mind when we speak of belonging? Is it nation, team, language or money? The belonging we are after is the body of peaceful presence, free from a guarded, grinding, brick and mortar sensibility.
“My only wish is to see you arrive home” wrote Zen master Huanglong. But the road can be arduous and stormy, full of brambles and fallen brush. We must go on long circuitous routes through strange countryside. As the celebrated Dublin author James Joyce said “The longest way round is the shortest way home.” Thinking can’t take you there and no map or compass can lead the way. We need strength of purpose, a healthy perseverance and a temperament open to surprise. Belonging is the place that never leaves you, whether you are in foul weather, caught in traffic or up a tree.
Strange that the feeling of belonging is always close by, nearer to you than your thoughts or purpose or plans. And most mysterious of all, belonging is the one thing that won’t reveal itself until you stop looking.
