OUR LIFE: A JOURNEY WITH NO REFUGES

 

I have always liked houses; to me they spell a very special kind of mystery. The reason why I did not think of studying architecture when I was eighteen is probably due to the fact that math was not my forte. Still, whenever I go by a house that appeals to me, I make the point of slowing the car and observe its design. Houses have always been for me the symbol of a refuge; some kind of secret garden where to feel protected from the confusion and misunderstandings of life. Therefore, each time I was able to own one I always did my best to make its interior feel like a welcoming cabin the me dark night. Today that I am forced to be inside my apartment for many hours a day, I look at these four walls and feel that in the vastness of the universe this is a place I can call my refuge. But is it? Is life something that becomes more peaceful after we close the door of our house and make ourselves comfortable? Why is then that, sometimes, when I sit on my balcony with the usual glass of white wine, I feel a strange feeling of aloneness and nostalgia for days past? Is it because I have still not learned the lessons sent my way by life, or is it because I still have to understand that life is an unending journey till the end with no stops in the way? I know that, should I have the option, I wouldn’t go back one day in my life; the lessons were many and difficult, but priceless. I now can grasp the meaning of our stay on this earth more simply: the adversity I encountered was there only to make me understand that life is a journey with no stops and no shelters; our only refuge lies in our soul.