Jenn Gibson: The Wisdom of Going Home

I asked Jenn to kick off the Wisdom Series because of her heart. It's big  -  generous as the sun. Encountering Jenn  - on Roots of She or through Twitter - is like being pulled into a warm welcoming hug, a circle where women from around the world share the things that intrigue, delight and puzzle us. Roots of She is an invitation to community. You are never alone, her blog welcomes - and her weekly Tribe Love - a list of the people, products and services who've inspired her - is a gift that's helped me meet many new friends. For me, Jenn's is the wisdom of invitation, circles of inclusion and welcome. She's also a wonderful writer. I am pleased and proud to introduce Jenn to you.- - - - -A few weeks ago, my life changed.There weren't any overt signs -- I didn't get hit with a sunbeam from the heavens, I didn't see a four-leaf clover, I didn't walk past a bookstore and see something from the window that spoke to me (although all three things have happened to me before at moments of life change.)What did happen is that I felt the sense of home that I'd been longing for. Then I cried.Let me step back for a moment:I've been searching for a place to lay down roots.I've been seeking sanctuary and coming up short, over and over, and it's left me heartsore.Home has been fluid, it’s been a concept more than anything else the past several years.Life and circumstances have led me from a tree-nestled studio apartment in a rehabbed mansion to an apartment in a rowhouse in a city I adore to a(nother) apartment in a converted rowhouse in that same city to a room in a townhouse out in suburbia.They’ve seen me losing everything I owned: when I left the city I adore, I moved with only my kitten, some clothes and a teapot.I’ve been rootless and floating, and aching for permanence.Losing everything has taught me to savor the abundance in the smallness of the everyday.Which brings us to the tears.They were big, happy, soul-filled tears.I found my home, an adorable house near the beach I love, close to my family, familiar yet like nowhere I’ve ever been before.I’m going home.A secret? I decided this little more than a month ago, after a bit of wisdom was whispered into my ears. A little angel or guide settled onto my shoulders, and told me that it was ok if I stopped running, that I did not have to prove anything, to anyone, anymore. Not even to myself.How do you define home? Where has home been for you?This is something I’ve struggled with for years, ever since I moved out of the house where I grew up. I’ve known that each of the places I landed wasn’t permanent, and now it seems like I’ve been waiting to come to a place where I could foster that sense of permanence, of connection, of home.Home smells like honeysuckles on a humid day, like earth and freshly cut grass after a rain shower. When you walk through the front door, you feel welcomed, cherished. It’s the place where you can let go of your guard, whatever façade the day’s draped over your shoulders and be at ease.- - - - -Jenn Gibson believes in dreaming big : she's the creator of roots of she. She loves yoga and the beach, is a photographer & writer, and isn't above stealing snuggles from Bean the Boy Kitten. Daily parts of her life are paper journaling, talking to her dear sweet momma & sky-gazing.Links:Roots of SheTwitter