Back in June, I shared how I’ve moved and moved and moved as Uranus flipped tables in my astrological fourth house. Now, Uranus has retrograde-sashayed back into Aries, flipping one last table before next March. For me, this means an even bigger move is rapidly approaching.

Despite living in Chicago for an entire decade, rarely has it felt like home. The sensation of home is a fugitive one; however it shows up, the feeling is as inconstant as joy, a visitor that comes whether or not it is expected and leaves when it damn well pleases.

Considering home and joy to be analogous opens up both sensations, changes the conversation. Chasing joy is a great way to never find it, but creating a context that attracts joy? Doing the work of opening oneself to feeling it more often and more deeply? Inviting joy to come hang out whenever it wants?

That works.

Switching the narrative from pursuing to inviting makes even more sense when it comes to the sensation of home. Home is already invitational: folks don’t chase house warmings or dinner parties or a long weekend visiting distant family (or if they do, the hosts whose parties they crash probably don’t appreciate it very much). Whether it be explicit or implicit, an invitation of some kind is required for the feeling of home to happen.

What’s interesting is that, like joy, the seed of home is always already within us; we carry those seeds everywhere. To access these feelings, even for a moment, means uncovering them enough so they can sprout, giving them a place that calls forth their blooms, delicately watering them, trusting they’ll emerge when they’re ready. Sometimes we can see how our efforts have led to our joys and our homes; sometimes they act more like surprise lilies, suddenly appearing in the midst of what we thought was boring landscape.

Put another way: to invite in the feeling of joy or the sensation of home is to invite your own heart to the party.

As we tumble towards the end of 2018 -- a year where every single planet that can go retrograde did -- take some time to recognize the comfort available to you, right now, within your own heart. Invite yourself towards a slice of contentment; invite yourself to mourn, to sit with, to process and digest and learn. Make real the magic of home by surrounding yourself with what calls forth that feeling for you. Recognize that home’s fugitive, shifting nature means that what feels like home now might be radically different from what felt like home a year ago, five years ago, ten years ago.

Carry that magic with you, wherever you go.


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

  • e.e. cummings