One Curiosity Of Being A Foreigner Everywhere

...home Lies In The Things You Carry With You Everywhere And Not The Ones That Tie You Down.

For If Every True Love Affair Can Feel Like A Journey To A Foreign Country, Where You Can’t Quite Speak The Language, And You Don’t Know Where You’re Going, And You’re Pulled Ever Deeper Into The Inviting Darkness, Every Trip To A Foreign Country Can Be A Love Affair, Where You’re Left Puzzling Over Who You Are And Whom You’ve Fallen In Love With.

From The Beginning, I've Stressed That Home Is Something Internal, Invisible, Portable, Especially For Those Of Us With Roots In Many Physical Places; We Have To Root Ourselves In Our Passions, Our Values And Our Deepest Friends. My Home, I've Always Felt, Lies In The Songs And Novels That I Love, In The Wife And Mother That I'm Never Far Away From, In The Monastery To Which I've Been Returning For 25 Years.

I Suddenly Realized I Was Racing Around So Much, I Could Never Catch Up With My Life

Suffering Is A Privilege. It Moves Us Toward Thinking Of Essential Things And Shakes Us Out Of Complacency. Calamity Cracks You Open, Moves You To Change Your Ways.