Perhaps my whole life I have been a misfit, a vagabond with a wand searching for home and the people and place where I belong, yet struggling with the idea of what any of that is. I grew up in less-than-optimal conditions and left home at sixteen for a basement flat in the town centre, AKA not the best part of the neighbourhood. Home, to my brain, was not a safe place, and love wasn’t far behind that belief either. If this is you too, be careful in your search for ‘home’. Home might not be what you are looking for.

One place I have always been able to rely on, however, is the page and, since 2010, my blog. How bizarre I would find the feeling of belonging and home in a blog, but here I am all these years later, still doing it. Each time I finished a blog series, I’d take it down from my website, declaring it’s no longer interesting and vow not to write another. It never lasted, I always returned with something. I simply can’t not do it, like I can’t not write books either. Maybe I should re-publish all the blogs I’ve written since 2010 I don’t know… a normal blogger would have left them all up in the first place, so continuing to help people and be making good bank by now. 

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85% of the time, my blogs were personal stories, transforming daily life and drama into inspirational lessons. I thought about that this weekend and all the messages I have received over the years and how I enjoy writing those particular types of blogs. I considered that maybe, just maybe, the wanderlust which fuels my veins, my mystical nature and objection to the status quo are not failings but form the whole enchilada known as me. Will I ever feel I belong outside of the page and the mighty relationships I built with my two boys? I’m not sure. I’m not sure I’ll ever find the place where I fit in or the right man to care for my heart, but I do believe I came close once.

I followed my inner senses, as I always preach, and they took me a million miles west; it appeared risky, yet I discovered everything I wanted. The life I’d fought for was hovering in my hand both for me and for my boys, then POOF, I had to leave. Logic and problems took over – or excuse me – was that self-sabotage? Little more than a cleverly cast glamour. A glamour is a type of magic casting a beautiful illusion to hide a truth, FYI.

Nothing has worked quite right since, a feeling of peek-a-boo or a jump scare keeping me just off my line and in the realm of a wobble. The last few years have been draining and difficult, but this is what happens when I disrespect my spirit and ignore my soul, thinking logic is a safer more responsible bet.  It isn’t. Logic usually backfires at some point or keeps you stuck. Following love, joy and wonderment are the lanterns to home.

Regardless of what nonsense has come before, where physical home is, what home is, what love is and where I belong, indeed, where we all belong, it’s a new dawn, people. It’s a new dawn. 

“I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world,” - Mary Anne Radmacher

Spreading the sorcery love,

Annaliese 

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