About Home, I have talked about my childhood place where I call Home, where I don’t need my private room. Now I want to tell you my being-home journey. Growing up, along my journeys, here and there… I have been sheltered under the roofs of many other homes.
The home where…
I was hosted in the house of a Christian family to celebrate Christmas in Italy.
I was invited to stay with of a mix African-European Muslim family in Switzerland to celebrate the Ramadan end.
I spent my retreat time living with Buddhist monastics in France, called Plum Village.
I used to stay with the owner, a Catholic nun, who was my friend, in a remote highland area of Vietnam during my backpacking trips.
I was indulged in good food by a rural Japanese family, during my studying trip.
And it was my home on an unbelievably packed train for a month-long journey across India.
That was my home for a month when I lived in a camping tent surrounded by nature, slept with ants and all kinds of insects underneath, shined by moon light above during the night, joined by summer storms from day to day. Continue reading Home to the Gold of heart →