Homeland of the soul

This summer I visited a friend in the south of france. Her family owns a small mountain farm of ancient building, my friend has spent holidays there since early childhood. For her, it's her second but real home. I felt it too, and I seemed to have found a new notion of home, on that mountain.

There are several kinds of home. Family places naturally are home. Especially the place where one is born will always feel like a welcoming place. It comes pretty close to the homeland of the soul, the place where one is warmly welcomed and may exist on every level, physically, emotionally and spiritually. The middle home is the home one creates in adult life, running your own job and family. It expresses your creativity, and the way  you see yourself in public. Some need two of that, like one of my friends who lives in a too small appartment in midtown, with lots of noise pollution. She has a cottage one hour away from the city, where she can feel at home in the weekend. 
But the homeland of the soul is hardly found in material life. It's in a mood, a presence, in being allowed to have time to enjoy whatever it is you really like. Stress and formality kills it immediately. I promised myself  this year, to learn reduce stress and to keep contact with this land no matter what the cost.
This summer I found it floating in the air,  halfway the mountain,
 
My friend really helped me by inviting us. The house is ancient - natural leystones were built into a stairs, and the walls were so thick that niches could be  built in to store pots and other things. Right out the window there was a view into a vally, on to another mountain. After the rain, one could see the clouds hover up directly from the trees.
When walking a little about the house, I found a porcelain doll. I actually recognized myself in that doll... it had two long braids (I had those for years), and a traditional dress of red, white and black, much like my own. That doll was put there just for me, it seemed.
I left it by the road, clearly visible, to see if anyone would reclaim it. After a few days it still was there, and I took it home upon departure.

The land of the soul is attached to this doll. I keep it by my bed and have it remind me never to live like a tired workhorse again.


It inspired me to start working on my own home again. I've been painting my bedroom windowdoors, and will create a place to sit there, away from the living room where the TV is. 
Art can't do without inspiration, and there's no inspiration without replenishment, which can only be provided by a true home for the soul.