Finding Home
Hiro Boga, Jennifer Louden, Mahala Mazerov, and I have taken it upon ourselves to write on the same topic, and publish our work on the same day. This is the second time we’ve done this; the first time, our topic was writing. Today, it is home. Click on their names to read their lovely pieces. It is an honor to co-create with them!
When I was a little girl, I used to hide under my desk with a blanket and a book, pulling in the chair to erect an unseen gate, hoping against hope to go unnoticed for as long as it might take me to think my thoughts. (One day I heard a cough and realized that my brother, on the other side of the wall, was also under his desk…) This, I now see, was my first attempt to create a home, one where I could be who I actually was, although I would never have described it that way at 5 years old, or 8, or 12. This was just the beginning of longing for a place where the gate would swing open and I could safely emerge. By last count, I’ve tried to find a home in 20 domiciles in 6 different cities. The last attempt was made just a few months ago when my husband and I moved from a house in the suburbs to a big loft in an industrial artists’ building.
This space suits me more than any I’ve ever lived in and so my desire for home is at a high pitch. If I can’t make it work here, then where? I like the big sweep of open space. The enormous skylights. The community of painters, sculptors, designers, and those who love them. (Or rent a room from them.) Most of all, I relish feeling the presence of others while being able to maintain solitude, which is a dream come true for one who loves people beyond all reason but is an inveterate, incontrovertible introvert. Given all the choices in the world, I will pick an apartment every time. I am a city person, there is no doubt.
I left my parents’ house in the suburbs when I was 16 and from that moment searched for a place for myself, with no frame of reference whatsoever. The only thing I knew was that it would probably be outside of conventional life—that I wouldn’t find it in an education, a relationship, or any lifestyle I had ever seen. So I didn’t go to college, didn’t create a household with another until I was almost 40, and have ended up with a job that requires/allows me to be alone all day long. (I really, really, really like being alone. I didn’t even live with my husband for the first 3 years of our marriage.)
From the outside, people look at my life and tell me how “brave” I’ve been for undertaking this search, for the risks I’ve taken, the stands I’ve made, the adventures I’ve been on. But I know the truth. I know exactly what has motivated me and it’s way more about fear than courage. I’m terrified of walking into my own home, showing exactly who I am, and not being embraced or even noticed; that the inner and outer noises will be so loud that I won’t be able to hear my own voice—and that if I am seen, am heard, I will not be loved. I’m terrified of finding myself in a place that looks like home but doesn’t feel like it, where the only spot that feels right is under my desk, unseen and not looked for, sunk in silence and not listened to, unrecognizable.
Today I sit at my desk not under it, but my posture is the same: I am poised in silence, listening for the opening of the secret gate. It is so easily missed.
15 comments
Wow, love this look into your heart Susan. I, too, made houses like that, not under my desk but in the living room, forts of quilts. Quilt forts to hide in. I, too, need so much time alone and feel rather guilty about it. I never thought about the fear of not being noticed and heard and loved as part of the fear of home… something deep and rich to ponder my dear friend! So very grateful for your voice in my head.
Jen, do all kids try to build shelters within shelters–whether of blocks, blankets, or mud?! There is something so primal about the need for home. That’s a big “duh” but I really got it on another level from writing this short piece, and from reading yours and Mahala’s. Looking forward to Hiro’s.
Oh, Susan, this brought me to tears because it speaks to the heart of my own experience of home/not-home, belonging/not-belonging. Especially today, when I feel, as you so eloquently put it, “poised in silence, listening for the opening of the secret gate.”
Thank you for this truth, so beautifully spoken.
Love, Hiro
Hiro, Wishing you a profound sense of belonging to exactly where you are…
Susan, this is gorgeous and, like Jennifer’s contribution (and Hiro’s response) brings me to tears again.
I see how much I need not only solitude but the freedom to hide, because it’s the only way I’ve been able to ensure I can be myself, whole, without hiding any part of Me.
What a gift it is writing with you, Jennifer, and Hiro. I will be giving myself a sacred stretch of time to contemplate what we’ve unearthed here.
Much love, Mahala
Yes, this has been a particularly vulnerable topic for each and all of us, it appears. Which is awesome.
It’s me from the other side of the wall that brought us two, oddly, closer together. I love your writing and finding home. Your brother- David
Love you, bro.
Susan, this is so well put, and brings in the beautiful soul, open heart feeling of true homecoming, as you shared:
Today I sit at my desk not under it, but my posture is the same: I am poised in silence, listening for the opening of the secret gate. It is so easily missed.
I love this! Thank you for this imagery today!
xx
Jenn
So glad you found it meaningful, Jenn. Thank you so much for letting me know because it means a lot! S.
Just finished reading all the contributions to this big idea of what and where home is and found them all thought-provoking. For me, the physical surroundings have either been a barrier to, or a “secret gate” to, my ability to come home to myself. I used to live in a city that many feel is the most beautiful in the country, but the car culture with everyone locked in their private domain, the military ethos (the screaming jets overhead were euphemistically called the “sounds of freedom”), and the almost religious devotion to the body beautiful, alienated me from myself. I now live in a city where many walk and bike, where neighbours tend not only their gardens, but city boulevards bursting with beauty, where railway lines have been turned into community gardens because people value about the importance of “food security”, and where the only planes overhead are the occasional float plane. This surrounding ethos resonates with my internal vibrations and has allowed me to come home to myself in gratitude and peace.
Apologies for the pesky typos and mangled grammar of the previous post that comes with fast typing and a sudden twitch to “submit” before proof reading! But, perhaps you are adept at reading between the lines for meaning… By the way, these co-operative efforts with the other authors are so nourishing, like the different pieces of a puzzle that fit together in a satisfying whole. I look forward to the next one.
Susan, loved reading your comments, and of the nourishing change you’ve made in your home town. It is a joyful thing. And so glad you’re enjoying our cooperative blogging! It’s been fun. xo Susan
I was a blanket-fort kid too. I loooong for a space that is just mine, but really, that longing is for home and connection, spiritual rather than just spatial/physical.
I too love the last sentence. And your brother’s cough. And the fact he turns up to comment here.
Beautiful stirring words, as always.
Thankyou for this place to share our thoughts and feelings.I am always trying to find or create sacred space wherever I am….it is so little understood in the western world,yet a vital concept to understand.Creating sacred space is a need we all have as children to preserve and protect our innocence and trust.This is so easily violated by the adults and others around us who most likely are passing on the pain of their own abuse and destruction of their own sacred spaces ie their bodies,environments,belongings etc.I learnt this from other cultures who teach their children to create their own safe spaces at an early age,providing them with the materials and love and respect to do so.This teaches them to love and respect themselves and their belongings and of course this then extends outwards to other people and is a vital lesson for living in healthy and happy community with others.At the moment I am working on a book about this so I thank you for the opportunity to share!