In the previous episode, the questions
about the gods remained unanswered. We still do not know where they are, or if
they will ever reveal themselves. Their silence leaves us wandering in the
dark. So now I turn to a different question, one that sits quietly behind
all the others: where is home?
Imagine, for a moment, that we know
nothing of the gods at all. Imagine we arrived on earth by chance, and our
ancestors slowly settled into its rhythms. They grew familiar with its seasons,
its beauty, its dangers. In time, they forgot where they came from. The maps
faded, the memories dissolved, and the path back was lost. Perhaps we
have been trying to return ever since, while those who hold power found it
convenient to keep us here, offering stories and beliefs that bind us to this
place.
So again, where is home? Are we
truly from one source? If we are, it seems strange that we cannot agree on
where that source lies. Some say their home is above them, somewhere beyond
the sky. But what if the sky is only a surface, a boundary we cannot cross?
If their home is truly there, why has no one reached it, especially when they
claim to see it every day? Who would refuse to return home if they could see
it shining above them, promising comfort, rest and peace?
Others believe home lies in the
afterlife, a world waiting beyond this one. They imagine a place where
they will be welcomed by their ancestors, as though returning from a long
journey. But what form do they take there? Do they begin again as children, or
do they arrive fully grown, carrying the weight of their earthly years? And if their
ancestors greet them on the shores of the afterlife, is that not simply a
reflection of what we already know on earth, where travellers return to the warm
embraces of their loved ones? It feels like a mirror of this world, not convincing
enough to make people change their minds.
Then there are those who believe that
everything ends here. No home beyond earth, no return, no waiting realm. And
perhaps they have their reasons. Who would want to return to a home that
sent them away and never spoke again? A home that offered no guidance, no
comfort, no sign of care. Many people on earth cut ties with their families
for far less. So perhaps those who believe in nothing beyond this life are
simply choosing peace in the only place they know.
But let us return to the question of our
source. We know we are not born from the same loins, so why should we
expect to share the same destination? Why should someone follow another to
a home that is not theirs? Unless they have chosen a new path, as many do when
they outgrow the place they came from. And if you truly belong to a place,
should you not be free to return without being tested or judged? The idea
that earth is a trial to prove your worthiness for your own home feels strange
and inconceivable.
Most religions speak of returning home,
yet none can show the way. How can someone claim a home they cannot remember?
How can they be certain of a place they have never seen? So, I ask again: where
is home? Do you truly know, or are you holding on to stories passed down
through centuries, repeated until they feel like truth?
If you managed to reach a realm beyond
this one, would you return to earth, or would you stay and never look back? Perhaps we are
travellers in a vast universe, and the moment we step through the door of home,
our memories of earth dissolve like mist. If earth is not a place you wish
to return to, then where are you going? Do you know the direction of your
own longing?
Home is a curious idea. I mean the
deeper sense of belonging, the place our spirit quietly points toward when the
world grows loud. Have you ever paused to wonder where we truly come from?
It can feel strange to say we are from one place while sensing we are meant to
journey elsewhere.
We move through this life as temporary passengers, aware that our
time here is limited. Everyone knows, whether they admit it or not, that no one
remains on this earth forever. The thought carries a certain weight, yet
we continue to rise each morning, to dream, to strive, to build lives that feel
meaningful. That persistence is part of what makes us human. We work, we hope,
we savour the small joys that come from our efforts
Home, home, home — we repeat the word as though it will guide us. Yet the question remains, quiet and persistent: where is it?
