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
