HOME

In my digital production class on Saturday I was privy to a rather long and philosophical rumination on the concept of “What is home?” by one of my classmates, a Russian woman who had moved here a few years ago. It was interesting to hear how tied she was to her land, her language, how it resonated with her in what seemed like daily doses. It was something she felt impossible to shake. It haunted her. It seemed distracting.

I’ve experienced periods of alienation on my travels overseas, yet never felt like I was removed to any degree from where I was at the time on that planet. In my experience the concept of “Home” tended to be something that originated from inside, not a national identity or anything from an origin of birth. Like the saying “Home is where you hang your hat,” though it was something that also evolved over time.

I’ve been drawn to places, and for periods of time felt like whatever shifts of awareness I was having at that time felt appropriate to certain surroundings: my childhood in the Bay Area; my college years in Chico; my time spent in the Northwest. There were few months I lived in Salem, Oregon that were bad, but that had more to do with internal changes that didn’t jibe with the scene I was in. In any regard, each had a shelf life. And for each year I didn’t respond to the perception that where I was hindered me in my personal growth, I felt less and less connected. There was always some point, regardless of friends or family, that it was time to go somewhere else. I’m not of the Eastern mindset that all enlightenment (of any duration) can be obtained from an grounding of oneself in meditation. In my opinion it comes from regions, from places as well. There are things inside me that are drawn to new locations for whatever reason. We are nomadic creatures after all.

I’ve come to believe that I can make a home in just about any place, and that all I really need are a few things to belong: friends; some creative outlet; some way to write; something to read; some place to swim and run. With these things I can expand outward, recording and sharing my experience. When the lesson is finished, when I’ve gathered all the information I can, then there are other teachers to find. I’m in NYC now, but I know other places hold allure for me. Their histories, their land, their cultures will reflect what I desire when the time comes. I don’t long for the places I’ve left behind. My memories suffice in the transient nature of things, and even they fade as they should.