That word; that feeling. It's rang in my head a lot lately. It's hard to consider it right now, mostly because I don't really have a home.

I do have a place to rest my head. Several in fact. My oldest friend Mike has graciously let me move in with him, which gives me a place to put a bed and house my cats and my dog. And when I travel, I have several friends who have been more than amazing who have let me stay with them. They create little homes for me to feel comfortable and welcome when I'm on the road. And I am thankful.

That's not the point. It's not that I don't feel at home when I stay with them. It's that I don't actually have a home as I've always understood it. When I think of what my home was, I think of a warm sunny day on my back porch with the stream trickling in the background and the falcon calling out as it flies overhead and the deer walking through the backyard and my dog sleeping at my feet. I think of Miles Davis on the very high end stereo system in my living room, with my tv and my game system and my couches and the fireplace. I think of my office setup. I think of making grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch in my kitchen with my stainless steel cookware and my stainless steel spatula and cutting it with my exceptionally high end Ken Onion knife.

I don't have any of that stuff anymore. I don't have the cookware. I don't have the knife. I don't have the stereo system or the TV or the couches or the fireplace or the deck with the animals or the house any of that stuff was attached to. I don't have my studio downtown anymore, or my office that my company was once run from.

And I'm okay with that. I've accepted all of that. That home was a different life for a different me. And I can say with 100% honesty that I never want to be that me again. I like the me I am right now. I like the introspection and the development and the honest and the openness I've experienced. I do not in any way regret choosing to divorce my ex-wife. I do not regret that my company had to close, because it opened my eyes to a reality I wasn't ready to face (however, I do have regrets about what happened to the people who worked with and for me... That's a whole other topic).

I do not regret having to leave behind all of the constructs of that old life. But the fact remains, it's the only home I've ever known.

This week, I've been on the road. Being on the road leaves me without the constant reinforcement and reminders that I'm in a new phase in life. I don't have the apartment I'm living in to remind me, day in and day out, that I live a new life. I don't have my gym family, whom I spend upwards of four hours a day with. I don't have the routine that I've built the last few months. What I do have is a LOT of time to think. And given the time of year and the fact that I'm plunging into about six months worth of one year anniversaries of a LOT of reminders of the end of my old life, it's natural that it's all coming to mind.

But I'm not sad about any of it. In general, I'm a happier person than I was a year or two years or five years ago. I'm awake and much more aware of myself, my feelings, my personality, my work and my life in general. But I do feel rather nomadic. I've done a lot of traveling in my life, but I've always had that home to return to. I've always had that "home base" to keep me centered.

Now, my only center is myself. And it's both easy and hard to keep it balanced. That's why all the discussion lately about The Discipline and my feelings and thoughts on just about everything going on with me lately. When I write about these things, I'm able to have them out of my head and on a screen. They become tangible. They become manageable.

Fitness, this blog and my books are my center in a lot of ways. Writing is the counterweight on my pendulum. It keeps me from swinging too wildly in one direction or another. Rather than experiencing wild swings that alternate between diligence and indulgence, I am able to keep a manageable schedule and routine. My fitness and this blog are without question the closest things I have to a home right now. I retreat to them to keep myself centered and balanced.

That's what home is for me currently. It's inside me. It's the warm place in my heart where I go to write. It's the militant place in my head where I go to work out.

When you read my work and comment on my Facebook and Twitter about my fitness stuff, you're guests in my home. You're visiting my heart and my head. And I thank you for visiting. It means the world.