I begin this post with a quote: “I could not read, eat, sleep, write or do anything unless I drove myself to do it and then I felt as if I were trying to do it with somebody else’s hands or brain and couldn’t work very well with them. I feel lustreless, dowdy and uninviting – I even bore myself. I shall grow mossy in this existence!“

This was written by Emily, from a book in the Emily of New Moon series by LM Montgomery.

Never have words felt truer to my soul. I have moved across the globe, twice. I have lived under the perpetual dampness of a February chill, grey skies and a sun that was never to be seen save for a few snatched glorious cold steely moments where she deemed us worthy to sprinkle her rays weakly at us. I have lived in a torrid desert, every breath laden with the fine dust carried over the sand dunes. Artificial light, artificial skies, artificial wind…

And yes, this dowdy, lustreless feeling chases me wherever I go, ripping away my inspiration and making me bow before it.

Yet every day I wake up with new resolve. I am determined to find my nature. My joy. A way to smile and truly feel the happiness in the pit of my stomach.

Home is where the family is. Joy is in the heart, not the location, and peace and happiness come from within.