Strangely a Home

    Sometimes, one feels lost, even in the places one once called home. And other times, what seems like a strange place becomes, strangely, a home.
    In the library, I usually do some quiet study and reading, along with proofreading and writing. I also tutor there, and this becomes a good way for me to connect with others. Every now and then, I see interesting characters, such as the very forthright librarian who looks like he is a prison guard of some sorts. The way he swings his arms and carries books, it's as though he were about to throw them into their respective slots on the shelves. And when one of the kids asks him where a book on a certain subject is, he really doesn't even need to check the computer. Instead, he strides over to the section for the respective book and manages to find it, hurling it off the shelf. I don't think I have ever seen him once use a computer, and perhaps he doesn't need to. When he speaks, you know it is his voice, and he is a bit antithetical to what you would call a 'stereotypical librarian'. And yet, he is clearly present, and cares about being in this moment. In fact, it seems that this is what truly counts the most, rather than the image one expects to see in a librarian.
  I sometimes wonder, when observing this librarian, how he got to be here. Why not somewhere else? What draws him on his journey to this present moment, in this library? This is where curiosity sets in. If we think of ourselves a cosmic sojourners, we must imagine that each destination is no accident. It's the result of the cause and conditions which have ripened and which now ask for a new response from us, according to this new place. Sometimes the new places are lonely ones, and some are even terrifying. Where does a person go to meet the challenges of these different places? It's only when one finds acceptance in herself that she can face anything. The unease that a person has with their situation is often related to how they feel about themselves and who they are. If I am only the reflection of my perceived blemishes or mistakes, I am bound to categorize the world according to these same mistakes, since self and world are inseparable. But if I find that ontological acceptance of things-as-they-are (to use Heidegger's style of hyphenating), then everything is a pure land. Even a place of isolation can be pure when one knows how to accept where they are as a result of the previous karma. This basic acceptance is more important, perhaps, than trying to prove one's existence or trying to fit in.