This week some clouds cleared away and I had crystal clear sunshine. I will not go into the details of why and how; it just happened.

It dawned on me that all my life I have been searching to find my home, to find where I belong. Consciously or not, it has always been the “hope” of finding it at the next place wherever and whatever that is. And “hope never dies”. It was the next country, the next city, the next job, the marriage, the relationship… Where is home? Each I time I thought: this my place, I found it now, this is where I belong. Yet, it never lasted and I was searching for the next one. 25 years long.

Quest for home is full of adventures and experiences, it is full of “life”. I am grateful for all that I found, be it wonderful or tough. Yet, the quest is also exhausting. Especially, when you are no longer young. I became tired, I wanted to land. Hence, I started to “hope” for my landing. Where do I land, how do I land…?

There is no such thing called as “hope”.

Do you see hope? Do you smell it, do you touch it? Where exactly is it in the room you are? Hope is Nothing. Period. And all this time I have been after Nothing. All there is, and all that exists is Now. It is me, and then all that I can see and touch and smell and…All I have is myself. Right now. I belong to myself….

What a relief and freedom. There is no hope. It never existed; and I landed. All I feel now out of this nothingness is love. At the same time, I know that love does not exist either, just like hope. Yet, I have all this free space in me now, the nothingness. It is full of “something” very powerful. I choose to call it “love”. Hope is dead and I found home.

Tomorrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

-William Shakespeare. “Macbeth “
Macbetn, scene V. line 19

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