i went home last week.

home.

that's becoming more and more of a relative term the longer i'm in l.a.

home[hohm]:the place or region where something is native or most common; in a situation familiar to one; at ease.

i've owned l.a. as my new home since the moment i pulled my first box out of my car and put it on the front steps of my house in long beach. i began to consider the world my home after my second trip to india where i found refuge in the familiarity of my friends and favorite coffee shops in the cities i grew to love there. with each new place i dwell ... with each new friend i meet across the world ... i am of the belief that i have a home where they are. and visa versa.

but there is something inside of me that wants to believe that the place i spent 23 years of my life is the place i will always find peace and comfort. i want to believe that i can always go back if things get too difficult. i want to believe that i can have my old life back if i really wanted it.

this time was different though. i felt like i was in some sort of weird twilight zone. nothing seemed quite right ... and everything seemed only vaguely familiar.

i felt out of place. like a foreigner, with little to reclaim.

as relaxing and joyful as my experience was last week, reconnecting with old friends and visiting family, there was something distinctly unsettling about my time there. it can only be described as the realization that i had chosen to pursue something that was only whispered to my soul ... no one else's ... mixed with the pain and weariness i have felt in the midst of that pursuit. i've needed a break. some sort of pause to just be ... no reflection, no analysis of how things are going or how i could improve ... just to be. and i got it. but it had to end. just as i needed space to breathe, i also needed to feel like i was a part of something again ... something significant and something worth risking my comfort for.

it was tempting. very tempting to say, "fine ... you win. i'll come back." but as my plane landed in l.a. i was awakened again and things started to make sense.

my home can not be described by a house, a town or memories of my past. my home is where i feel most alive. and while that may be kansas at different points of my life, i have a feeling that home will take on different shapes, names and images than it has always taken from this point on. and i think i'm ok with that ... finally.