My favorite Spanish word is querencia.
Querencia is a place where one feels secure.
It is a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn.
In Spain, it is the place in the ring where the wounded bull goes to renew his strength and center himself, ready to go again.
I think of people who are able to come from a place of comfort from within themselves wherever they are, and I wonder at why I am not that kind of person.
Where I am at, physically, in this world, matters to me.
Being in the warm embrace of the sky and the grasses, old trees and barns, animal sounds and slamming backdoors...these things tell me who I am. They are the place from which I may speak my deepest beliefs about life and where I belong.
I grew on a farm. I found a warm center there.
When I left home to go to college, I sought out other's farms to sit near. When I felt homesick, I went for a walk and talked to the cows and watched the farmers tending their crops. I longed to hear the dirt being turned and to feel the wind across the wheat, bringing with it the smells of home, but it was only a whisper of what I needed.
I've been longing for it for as many years as I've been away from it.
What I did not say, was that our little dream farm, complete with red barn, was almost taken away from us this last week. But was graciously, given back by someone else, completely and utterly out of love and kindness. I do not know how to thank such generosity but to love that home from top to bottom when I finally get there.
My center, is coming.