HOME.

Okay, so a few people have mentioned this idea in response to some of my posts, and it’s something I’ve been meaning to elaborate on for a while. As it’s a topic that intimately matters to me right now, despite really wanting to share it I’m a little unsure of how to go about doing so. I thought tonight would be a good time because I find myself for the first time since I left really missing something concrete from home. My couch. My big, comfy, gobble-your-worries-away couch. There are no chairs with backs in my room, actually there are no chairs at all but I did snag a stool from the entryway when I arrived. After lying on my bed curled up in the fetal position for 3 hours (that is what spicy food does me, those of you who have scorned me for my weaknesses) I’m still feeling weak, but able to function a bit better than a few hours ago. Not well enough to go to the Mother’s Day celebration at Htoo Chit’s house, which I’m pissed about, but since I’m having issues with that whole moving around thing, I thought it was best to take it easy tonight. Therefore, all I want is a comfortable place to plop my exhausted body, but instead I’m sitting uncomfortably and allowing myself one concession—I can daydream of my couch, oh squishy comfy couch.

Anywho—as is often the case when one becomes unbearably sick (in explanation of the word “unbearable and in anticipation of the three emails from my mother I know I’ll have waiting in my inbox in an hour: it wasn’t that bad, remember that time you had to drag me out of the mall in Burlington after I ate those spicy Thai (oh the irony) noodles, as I was doubled over in pain and having trouble walking? Or the time I curled up on the floor of our hotel in Saratoga at noon, unable to move until I fell asleep by dinnertime? It was like that: painful at the time, but the wonderful thing about these pains is that eventually, they pass. No Thailand belly here, just the overly sensitive one I’ve always had). As I was saying, when I’m sick I find myself pining for comforts that I’ve grown up around. Not too terribly, because I think those thoughts are useless and right now I’m not anxious enough to let them cloud my vision. But they’re present enough to get me thinking about the less concrete parts of home and what it means to be home. What is home, anyway? The place where your roots are most firmly planted? The place that looks most familiar and comforting in your mind’s eye? Or how about, “home is the place that when you go there, they have to take you in”? (Robert Frost). Yes to all of these, in some way or another. But there are other ways of feeling home too. Like, “home is whenever I’m with you”. It’s this last one, the line of a song Tiff introduced to me in March, that first got me thinking of the different ways I conceptualize “home”.

Home is whenever I’m with you. A song sung back and forth between two newlyweds, or an old couple reminiscing on their anniversary. I remember when I realized, one summer at home between college years, that I could feel homesick at home. I missed the one person with whom I felt most at home; on that day he wasn’t to be found in Lake Placid. Now, on my own since April, I’ve felt that feeling countless times these past few months. It hasn’t been plaguing me much recently, likely due to busy days, new friends, and the unmistakable whiff of a feeling that things are (finally) moving forward. Furthermore, as I approach this change I continue to readjust, growing to know myself better than I ever have in the past, and I see my own person filling in the space of what it means to be home. Slowly, I realize that home can be anywhere I choose it be. However, despite this awareness and growing autonomy, there are times when that oppressive feeling with the offensive name of ‘Loneliness’ still comes flooding in.

Blah blah, perhaps I’m making too emotional a mess over what is just another universal human condition. I recently read about a story from Greek mythology that said that man once was a creature with two bodies joined together (the siamese twins of Ancient Greece: joyful, sexual, and therefore half was male and half was female). In this state, man had want of nothing; he was complete. Of course, humanity did something to upset some Greek God somewhere and in his wrath he severed each being in half, casting them all to disparate ends of the earth. And since then, the story goes, man has been wandering around looking for his other half. However, even when he finds it he is never fully complete, because a full meshing/mooshing/reunification of bodies will always remain impossible. So while we can settle down with our “better half”, there will still be those moments of loneliness. This idea that however hard we try we are always fundamentally alone is nothing new, but I think it’s worth my saying the words, nonetheless.

Okay, so I’ve strayed off topic. First, while it may seem that I have confused homesickness with loneliness, I hope you’ve realized by now that for me, they’re one in the same. But then what am I saying about loneliness, exactly? Not that loneliness is cured by finding one’s other half, nor by gaining complete, contented autonomy. However, just because I feel a condition so strongly doesn’t mean someone else is free from it. Yes, if I correctly understand what “nirvana” is, then I do actually believe that some enlightened individuals live free from loneliness (as I define it). However, while some may think, “ah, how nice that must be”, I disagree. Loneliness reminds me of my humanity and just as happiness brings me a feeling of open invincibility, loneliness reminds me that I am equally vulnerable. It is good to feel lonely sometimes, to feel those true pangs of human suffering that I cannot imagine living without. That said, I am keenly aware of the line I walk between appreciating an emotion as it enters and passes through, and letting it dwell within me—stagnating the otherwise natural changes of human emotion.

In conclusion, there is no one take-away from this blog post. My first writing on a concept that is still developing in my mind (and soul) is bound to be disjointed and I realize that this post flits around too much. I feel it aching to spend more time on each point I’ve considered, but elaboration will have to wait. With time and contemplation these thoughts will develop. Some I may feel like sharing, others I may realize will be better left where I find them.

--after glancing over some older blog posts, I realize this topic of home is something I touch on in nearly half of them. But still-- expect even more thoughts to come on it.