The Breath of Home

On Finding Refuge Every Day

by Erika Alexia Tsoukanelis, September 26, 2007

Before entering their 1850s Accord farmhouse, Jeff Davis and Hillary Thing remove their shoes. The dirt and pollution of the outside world are left at the door as they observe this common Eastern tradition that implies a sense of courtesy, humility, and respect.

Davis is a writer and yogi. Thing is an acupuncturist and herbalist. They are both teachers, and their home is their sanctuary. The kitchen is airy and bright, ingredients and cooking equipment close at hand. Davis’s office is filled with books that he treasures. Yoga mats are spread across the floor there, and chairs for clients are comfortable and inviting. There is a deck off sliding glass doors, and a view from his desk of the pond out back, lotus pads floating. He can also catch sight from his working seat of the trails he has forged through their wooded lot and the herbs such as goldenrod that Thing has planted. Her garden is impressive. Thing is anomaly among acupuncturists—she grows her own Chinese herbs. She also tracks animals to understand their energy and medicine, collecting broad wings from perished birds and displaying them in the hall outside her upstairs treatment room. Along with statues of Buddha and Ganesh, there is a print of a female Avalokiteshvara hanging in that room. Legend has it that the deity was so bombarded by the cries of this world’s suffering she grew a score of extra heads and arms, an eye in the palm of each new hand so that she could see and reach out to all those in need.

We too are bombarded each day. The stream is constant: noise, obligation, unsettling strife far away and close by. The wish for retreat and respite, for escape from this everyday chaos, is an understandable given. Like Davis and Thing, we need not flee our homes to find refuge. We may create it every moment and in our own space.