The way home

When I saw my mum broke down uncontrollably after my uncle’s funeral, I stroked her back gently with a silent thought: grow up, mum.

In between the strokes I was engulfed by a deep sense of gratitude that I have a mother who expresses her love freely.

It is in the vastness of this love that my ego, stubbornness and all silly naiveties dissolved without condemnation, given the space to understand life at my own pace.

Like a fish that realizes what water is, I grew up, rebelled, spread my wings, and found my way back to see this love as the most precious thing I could ever have.

The silly fight mode

There was a time I told myself that I couldn’t stay home for too long. As a result-oriented entrepreneur, home was a space where time slowed down and work didn’t seem to matter. I lost my productivity.

I always felt that my ‘fight mode’ depleted so much at home that it was inefficient to rebuild the same momentum after getting back to the city.

There were times when things got rough, I drove away in tears wishing that I never have to leave.

Going home created a gap in the emotions that I hated to deal with.

Be here now

It took me years to be able to visit home and leave with a big smile on my face, filled with tremendous bliss and gratitude that I have so much love in life.

In between these years were letting go of a business I built, hitting the rock bottom, getting lost, finding myself back again and again.

Life has its way of humbling me and guiding me towards the important question I forget to ask myself: what matters at the end of life?

It hit me that we are at the tail end when my mum told me that she was learning to live independently to prepare for the future.

Nothing changed much, but every meal I have at home, every time I see my parents, every family breakfast we have together become what they should be.


Home is where love is

When my parents contemplated on relocating to the city to be with us, I didn’t think we need a new home at a place where there are always too many cars, too many people, too little space.

Going home becomes a mini pause that I look forward to instead of a scheduled routine.

In stillness and warmth, this ‘unproductive’ space becomes a reflective space where I get to see life clearly for what it is.

It is simple, it is love, it is enough.

What have I done to deserve so much love? What can I create to bring more love to this world?

Going home is joy. It is the biggest blessing that will forever humble me to be a servant of love.

Hi, I am Isabelle, author of ‘The Art of Owning Your Story’, I write about conscious living and personal growth, building a podcast called ‘Own Your Story’. 

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