In a quiet corner of Yunnan, I met her. She sat effortlessly grounded in a space that echoed with the rhythm of her everyday life. The walls, darkened by years of cooking smoke, seemed to hold the stories of countless meals and quiet moments. A kettle sat on the fire, not hurried, just waiting, as if it knew its place in the sequence of comfort. Her chair, angled perfectly by the window, looked as though it hadn’t been moved in years—and didn’t need to be.
What struck me was how little was in the room, and how complete it felt. It made me think about returning home from my own travels. That first moment—taking off my shoes, sitting down on the couch, wrapping my hands around a warm cup of tea or coffee—is when I truly feel home. It’s not the objects around me, not the shelves lined with books or souvenirs or photographs. It’s the act of being still in a space that’s mine. A bed to rest in. A place to sit. A drink to warm me. That’s really all it takes.
The homes I visited in Yunnan shared this simplicity. These were not houses curated for aesthetic or status. They were lived-in, and every object had purpose. And yet they radiated a deep kind of richness. Not of things, but of time, repetition, and belonging. It reminded me how much we tend to gather—objects we assign identity to, stories we tie to possessions. But do we really need it all? Or are we just chasing echoes of comfort we already have?
We could strip away so much and still be full. Just like her, sitting in the light from the window, surrounded by what she truly needs. Maybe that’s the essence of home.
2 responses to “The Essentials of Belonging~”
One can note the bright colours of her dress in contrast with the blackened walls. (I’ve always thought I’d be happy with two or three changes fo clothes. One to wear one day, the other two to wear while the first one dried. If there’s enough sun, two changes of clothes would be enough. 😉
If only life can be that simple for all of us .