Exploring the Essence of Home: Inspired by Khalil Gibran's Vision

What if your home was not just a place to live, but a living, breathing extension of your very essence? Inspired by the poignant words of Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet," I, Lisa Hopkins, invite you on a journey through the philosophical and spiritual dimensions of what it means to call a place home. We uncover Gibran's insightful vision of houses that inspire freedom and untamed passion, challenging the notion that comfort should define our living spaces. Through his eloquent prose, we are urged to see our homes as masts that propel us forward, not anchors that hold us back, and to fill our spaces not just with objects, but with peace, beauty, and meaningful memories.

This episode asks you to reflect deeply on what you truly hold within the walls of your home. Are they shelters of peace and beauty, or merely fortresses of comfort that stifle the soul's yearning for freedom? As we explore Gibran's poetic call to live restlessly within rest, we delve into the idea of letting your spirit dwell in the vastness of the sky, unconfined by physical boundaries. Join me in embracing the wisdom of Gibran, and let his words inspire you to live in the moment, with a newfound understanding of the profound essence of home. Stay safe and healthy, and allow this exploration to resonate with you as it has with me.

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Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:23

Hey there. I've been thinking a lot lately about home and about what home means to me, and I am working on writing something about it. But today I just wanted to share something with you from Khalil Gibran's the Prophet. I turn to the words of this brilliant, brilliant prophet time and time again, and so this is what Khalil Gibran has to share about home.

Speaker 1: 0:59

Then a mason came forth and said speak to us of houses. And he answered and said and alone, your house is your larger body. It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night. And it is not dreamless, does not your house dream and dreaming? Leave the city for grove or hilltop. Would that I could gather your houses into my hand and, like a sour, scatter them in forest and meadow. Would the valleys were your streets and the green paths your alleys. That you might seek one another through vineyards and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments? But these things are not yet to be. In their fear, your forefathers gathered you too near together, and that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields.

Speaker 1: 2:30

And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses. And what is it you guard with fastened doors. Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you the beauty that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain? Tell me, have you these in your houses? Or have you only comfort and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house, a guest and then becomes a host and then a master, ay, and it becomes a tamer and, with hook and scourge, makes puppets of your larger desires. Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron. It lulls you to sleep, only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh. It makes mock of your sound senses and lays them in thistle-down like fragile vessels. Senses, and lays them in thistle-down, like fragile vessels. Verily, the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul and then walks grinning in the funeral.

Speaker 1: 4:05

But you, children of space, you, restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall not be an anchor but a mast. It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down. You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living and though of magnificence and splendor. Your house shall not hold your secret, nor shelter your longing for that which is boundless in you abides in the mansions of the sky, whose door is the morning mist and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night. Wow, I hope you enjoyed that as much as I do. Again, those are the words of Khalil Gibran from the Prophet. I'm Lisa Hopkins. Thanks so much for listening. Stay safe and healthy, everyone, and remember to live in the moment.