My Strongest Conjuration

I can’t tell when the stirring began again, but I’m somehow encouraged to find the same theme popping up around the blogosphere – Home.

 

I suspect Winter raising its head about the northern hemisphere has many residents longing for the comforts associated with home; good company and sufficiency.

 

While I enjoy reminiscing, I want to take some time to examine the actual concept of Home. To begin this pursuit of my ‘strongest conjuration,’ Today I reflected upon a few literary masters and some fellow bloggers:

 

Sunset in the rear view; heading home

 

“O my heart! O tender and fierce pangs—I can stand them not—I will depart;
O to be a Virginian, where I grew up! O to be a Carolinian!
O longings irrepressible! O I will go back to old Tennessee, and never wander more!” Leaves of Grass, Longings for Home, by Walt Whitman

 

“I’ve been building a lot of things lately, but I don’t think home is one of them… …but what I do know is that this life of mine must be made for more than this.” Pebblestone Steps, New Horizons, by John Chon

 

“… just a bit further, and then retire for the night … with my home being their final destination.” Two Are Better, Homeward Bound, Michelle Malone

 

“But charity begins at home. And justice begins next door. Martin Chuzzlewit, Chapter 27, by Charles Dickens

 

“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” Martin Chuzzlewit, Chapter 35, by Charles Dickens

 

“The more you explain it, the more I don’t understand it.*” Mark Twain

 

“Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:8 (NLT)

 

*any inference to home with this particular quote is mine. EVAL

 

I would appreciate your thoughts – what you think about home.

 

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Unless otherwise indicated, (NLT) Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

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My Clandestine, Subversive Mission

I write mostly because I’m a far better person in text than I am when I speak.

Of the many skills I developed that help maintain plausible sanity, I have more confidence in writing and rarely ever tire of it.

I pity the poor things who occupy space with me while my mind spins so fast that even I can’t keep up. I can’t expect anyone else to understand my feeble attempts to orate the vast, intricate thoughts spinning from the centrifuge of my brain; ones that comprehend quantum physics, string theory and Latin, yet I can’t recall if I ate today or how many steps get me to the light switch – and the freezer for ice cream – in utter darkness.

Mostly I write to sound the wee small voice within me, to be a beacon to seemingly hopeless lost souls, desperate to know someone gives a care. While I have failed time and again, forcing me underground, my clandestine, subversive mission is to help guide each lost child toward home.

Of an entire tree, if one piece of the fruit of my labor, a single sentence eventually helps somebody find reason enough to keep living, then I feel my time is not wasted.