Home

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all. - Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte, Hesse

Home is a difficult concept for me to grasp. Is it internal or external? Both? Does it involve more than me? Other people? Does a partner help? Should a partner help? Understandably life shouldn't be binary as easy or difficult because there are moments where it could be both or neither at the same time, or transitory where it's one then the other.

Is it a physical location? Something more? Does time help develop and construct a home? Can there be more than one? Should there be a concept of home? Is it too complacent to have a home?

I was bicoastal for a short period of time; living in Seattle and also having a house in Philadelphia I would visit periodically along with my parents' residence in north New Jersey. I've been in Seattle for a year and granted my roots are starting to take water and grow, I'm unsure I could call it "home." I enjoy the activities despite the lack of art cities like Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, LA or Boston can provide. I'm healthier and career wise, there are opportunities but I if were asked if Seattle is my home, I couldn't confidently answer "yes" despite in the process of purchasing a condo. It's my current residence, yes, but a home, I'm still reluctant.

For a while, I considered Philadelphia my home though not sure when it started. After high school, I went to college at Temple University in 2005 and stayed till August 2012; seven years. I was familiar with Philadelphia; I had and have friends in Philadelphia; I knew the neighborhoods and their demographics; I knew the restaurants and their offerings; I had my weekly rituals; I had a house. I'm unable to pinpoint when the breaking point was when I thought Philadelphia was my home; at some moment I had likely, with ease, imagined myself to establish strong roots in Philadelphia and grow with the city. However, after moving to Seattle, with every trip back, Philadelphia felt less and less like a home.



My story isn't pleasant, it's not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves. - Demian, Hesse

Bitter Cruelty

“I was helpless in trying to return people's kindness, but also helpless to resist it. Kindness is a scarier force than cruelty, that's for sure. Cruelty isn't that hard to understand. I had no trouble comprehending why the phone company wanted to screw me over; they just wanted to steal some money, it was nothing personal. That's the way of the world. It made me mad, but it didn't make me feel stupid. If anything, it flattered my intelligence. Accepting all that kindness, though, made me feel stupid.

Human benevolence is totally unfair. We don't live in a kind or generous world, yet we are kind and generous. We know the universe is out to burn us, and it gets us all the way it got Renee, but we don't burn each other, not always. We are kind people in an unkind world, to paraphrase Wallace Stevens. How do you pretend you don't know about it, after you see it? How do you go back to acting like you don't need it? How do you even the score and walk off a free man? You can't. I found myself forced to let go of all sorts of independence I thought I had, independence I had spent years trying to cultivate. That world was all gone, and now I was a supplicant, dependent on the mercy of other people's psychic hearts.” 
― Rob Sheffield, Love is a Mix Tape

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.” 
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

__________

You, others, and me are all roots of the blame I have towards my parent's being robbed this morning.

My philadelphia house door ajar, my mother's purse visible from the street, the purveyor of classical racism acted on his impulse, ran into the house to take the bag, and ran back out. My father, seeing the act, ran after him. The purveyor falls, my father falls and scraps his knee and the palms of his hands while my mother runs as fast as she could behind screaming, "help help."

The perpetrator finally gave up and left the purse on the stoop and ran into a hiding space - whether it was his space or a friend, irrelevant.

Yes, it was agreeably foolish to think the neighborhood safe to leave the door open while the parents tried to transfer the luggage from the house to the car. Yes, the neighborhood isn't a pristine gated community. Yes, had my friends been more careful to care for the house my parents wouldn't frequent the house and expose themselves more to this gray environment. Yes, I should have been more attentive in rectifying my living situation in Philly before I leave. There are so many things I could point to but at the end of the day, I feel responsible. At the end of the day, there are so many action items I need to carry out and so many questions opened that aren't easy to close.

Despite all this, John asked me whether I want to punch the guy out for putting my parents and my little nine year old brother through this, interestingly enough I couldn't find an ounce of harbored violence towards the thief. I don't empathize for him, I do not feel curious or sadden whether he got hurt during his fall.

What I do feel is a sadness. A sadness that something unfortunate has been carried out for all parties involved. A sadness that my parents, in their old age, is caring for my assets when they really shouldn't be. A sadness that my nine year old's brother is tainted with this image of a city and it's lurking danger. A sadness that my parents fear might turn to resentment of their fear, an unsettled retribution.

Depart, Rilke

Mon amie, il faut que je parte.
Voulez-vous voir
l'endroit sur la carte?
C'est un point noir.

En moi, si la chose
bien me reussit,
ce sera un point rose
dans un vert pays.

____

Recently I've been craving vast, green space - just a few acres and a small 500 sq ft cube house. A small contemporary home with 3/4 length of brick exterior, where the bricks are painted white with an imposed slightly corroded effect so the rusted red bricks with its burnt cracks reaching through - the other 1/4 of the home is made of glass. Inside are walls, painted red, lined with cobalt blue shelves of books and in the middle are two elongated couches facing each other with a small bench coffee table in the middle for cups of teas and french presses to rest on.

I would go there for the weekend and live on the couch thinking about how I should trim the overgrown lawn and space, pretending it was an english garden and I should let it fill.

They Ask Me Why I Teach," Glennice L. Harmon

They ask me why I teach,
And I reply,
Where could I find more splendid company?
There sits a statesman,
Strong, unbiased, wise,
Another later Webster,
Silver-tongued,
And there a doctor
Whose quick, steady hand
Can mend a bone,
Or stem the lifeblood's flow.
A builder sits beside him-
Upward rise
The arches of a church he builds, wherein
That minister will speak the word of God,
And lead a stumbling soul to toach the Christ.


And all about
A lesser gathering
Of farmer, merchants, teachers,
Laborers, men
Who work and vote and build
And plan and pray
Into a great tomorrow
And I say,
"I may not see the church,
Or hear the word,
Or eat the food their hands will grow."
And yet- I may.
And later I may say,
"I knew the lad,
And he was strong,
Or weak, or kind, or proud,
Or bold, or gay.
I knew him once,
But then he was a boy."
They ask me why I teach, and I reply,
"Where could I find more splendid company?"

"They Ask Me Why I Teach," by Glennice L. Harmon, in NEA Journal 37, no. 1 (September 1948): 375

Brené Brown: The power of vulnerability

“You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” - Brené Brown

Susan Cain: The power of introverts

Three calls to action:
1. Stop the madness for constant group work.
2. Go to the wilderness - be like Buddah, have your own revelations.
3. Understand the content of your suitcase, understand why you put it there and share it.

"I prefer listening to talking, reading to socializing … I like to think before I speak (softly)." - Susan Cain

____________

If you haven't heard of ted.com, definitely explore it. It's a platform where lectures are collected and shared - its mantra is "ideas worth spreading". I often have lectures playing as I work or as I draw, clean, or anything that leaves time for my ears take in whatever insightful knowledge specialists are willing to share. Most of these lectures have great personalities so it makes the lecture very easy to listen to.

This lecture was dear to me as I'm a self-prescribed introvert. I prefer intimate settings and privacy over overwhelming social scenes where my senses are numbed and where my stomach is left a little unsettled. Granted, if need be, I'd like to believe I'm capable of being a proper social citizen. However, there has been times when I shut down, this occurs mainly when the company shows itself to be shallow, relative to my perception of course.

I would like to say I've adopted this from my father as he's an introvert and never enjoyed social settings - my mother was the opposite. When I was little, my mother would want to give me birthday parties and my dad would lock himself in the room. I've never questioned or explored what caused him to be an introvert but I think my issues are a little, if not a lot, less dependent than the adoption of introversion through seeing my father's behavior manifesting through his action, or lack of.

For me, there are several reasons for my introversion -introversion is a good defense mechanism, introversion allows for my thought to develop without static influences, and introversion as a default because i do not know of extroversion organically.

Introversion as a reason to allow my thought to be develop is discussed by Susan so I don't have to go into details.

Growing up without a good command of the english language and without the best of the Jone's material possessions, I've learned that there's little room for me to foster confidence from the ignorant comments or judgement that's passed on to me from my peers or those with titles whereby I'm led to believe defines me (teachers, family members, employers, etc). Granted, during the last few years this is different, however, nuture (vs nature) has conditioned me to be insecure and has led me to see that introversion helps provide a shelter where my insecurities are left alone.

I want to hold the hand inside you

Another year. 25.

It might be the 1:50am talking or the conversation I've just had with a friend, but boy does each passing day makes me feel anxious to sooner discover what I would want my life to be. As much as I try to be mindful of the aphorism that don't think about life so much that I forget living it - I can't help it.

I think I'm successful in living. Not sure what to compare myself to but I've taken risk - some good, some bad. But ultimately, I have stories and learned lessons.

Perhaps it's also the short stories in Noctures by Kazuo Ishiguro that's the catalyst to my need for writing tonight as well but whatever it may be, hopefully in my writing this, it'll help at least resolve a what little anxiety I have, which has been increasing in frequency lately.

Recently I've struggle with work life balance. It's always been the case but it's been on my mind a little more lately. There's so much to talk about and ironically writing should help organize some of my thoughts but i just want to be able to discuss all that's on my mind simultaneously. Unfortunately, I won't be able to do this.

As I'm writing this, I struggle to continue. The thought to write all I feel seems cumbersome - perhaps this is an excuse.

Maybe bullet points will help.