Moving Away from Home

 W. Somerset Maugham once wrote, "You should stay where you feel happy." Which is good advice as far as it goes, but not particularly susceptible to reality.

There are so many reasons why people cannot stay where they feel happy... they might be entering a new stage in their lives, which may be for a happy reason - for example, going up to university, moving to a new village or town or city (or even country). Or it may be for an unhappy reason... they might no longer be able to cope with living in their present home, or war may have passed over the place in which they live, or famine or a host of other disasters, both natural and manmade. Which are more difficult, more traumatic reasons to move.

And, because we are perhaps conservative by nature, it will take us a while to settle in to the new place, to make new friends, to come to feel that it is our home. Even if we have moved because we wanted to, the first few weeks or months may be very difficult and we will long to be back home among familiar places and faces. But eventually, if we persevere in "making the best of it", we will, more often than not, settle in to our new community and begin to feel at home there.

Of course, this will largely depend on the kind of welcome we get in the new place. Refugees are often not *allowed* to "make the best of it". Refugees in particular, often face downright hostility rather than any kind of welcome. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to have to uproot yourself and your family because of necessity, rather than desire. The British-Somali poet, Warsan Shire, has written a beautiful, moving and poignant poem about this, called Home, which I urge you to read. The final lines read:

               " no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear

                saying - 

                leave,

                run away from me now

                i don't know what i've become

                but i know that anywhere

                is safer than here."

Finding Enough

 The American poet, Walt Whitman, once wrote, "I have realised that being with the people you love is enough."

Perhaps this is self-evident. In which case, why do so many of us spend so much of our time and effort chasing after rainbows? More money, more food, more social media, more everything. We seem to find contentment, which is another way of saying "the consciousness of having enough", very difficult to discover.

But with Whitman, I believe that "being with the people you love" is enough. If we are lucky, there will be a place we can call "home", a place where we know we belong. But it need not be a physical space. For me, the word "home" signifies the company of loved others, in front of whom and with whom I can be myself - rather than a particular building made of bricks and mortar. It's more about feeling "at home", at peace, seen and heard for who we truly are.

Whereas "home" in the purely physical sense of "the place where you live" can be very far from a real home. There are far too many dysfunctional families for that. And the scars of childhood (wheter physical, mental, psychological or spiritual) are far too frequently felt by far too many people for me to believe that "home" means "the environment in which you were brought up" or "the environment you live in."

One of my favourite books by Celtic poet and theologian John O'Donohue is Eternal Echoes: Exploring our hunger to belong. In it, he writes about what I believe is the true sense of "home" - a place where we belong. He has much to say about longing and belonging and about "home" as a place of sanctuary and belonging, where we feel safe and can grow into our best selves. He wrote, "The word home has a wonderful resonance. Home is where you belong. It is your shelter and place of rest, the place where you can be yourself."

I believe that everyone needs solid roots (a safe and happy home, a loving family and/or friends, and a solid moral and ethical grounding) if they are to grow into wise, virtuous human beings. If one or more of those elements is missing, it will be that much harder for the person to grow up grounded and able to nurture others in their turn. Of course, it is far from impossible. Many people overcome all kinds of deprivation and cruelty and thrive in spite of them, but I do believe that those fortunate enough to grow up with solid roots will, perhaps paradoxically, find it easier to step out on their own as grounded adults.

       

  

Where We Feel Whole

 This week's quotation, by Jean Paul, reads, "Only at home is one whole."

Which left me thinking, hmmm. I'm not at all sure it is true. At least not in that particular phrasing. Because "home" can be interpreted in so many ways. From the photo which came with the quotation, it seems to imply a physical building, of which you go through the front door and then you are home and whole.

Hmmm. I think it depends on what the author meant by "home". For me, "home" is more nearly the company of loved others, in front of whom and with whom I can be myself - nothing to do with bricks and mortar. It's more about feeling "at home", at peace, seen and heard for who we truly are. Which I guess is what the author meant.

Whereas "home" in the bricks-and-mortar sense of "the place where you live" can be very far from a real home. There are far too many dysfunctional families for that. And the scars of childhood (whether physical, mental or psychological) are far too frequently felt by far too many people for me to believe that "home" means "the environment in which you were brought up".

One of my favourite books by Celtic poet and theologian John O'Donohue is Eternal Echoes: Exploring our hunger to belong. In it, he writes about what I believe is the true sense of home - a place where we belong. He has much to say about longing and belonging and about "homne" as a place of sanctuary and belonging, where we feel safe and can grow. He writes, "The word home has a wonderful resonance. Home is where you belong. It is your shelter and place of rest, the place where you can be yourself." 

But sadly, it may not be the building in which we live...

The Two Most Beautiful Things

Last September, my husband and I spent a gorgeous week in Nuremberg. While we were there, I picked up a weekly calendar with 53 postcards, called Weisheiten 2019 (Wisdom 2019). Each page consists of a picture postcard and a wisdom quote.

So this year, I'm going to blog once a week, using these prompts.

"The two most beautiful things are the home from which we come, and the home to which we hike."

Well, I don't do much hiking, but I love returning, both to my own home, and to my parents' home. Especially at special times, like Christmas, Easter and family birthdays. This Christmas, my daughter and her fiancé came home on Christmas Eve and stayed for three days, returning to their home on the 27th. And we all travelled over to Worcestershire on Boxing Day, which my mother insists on calling 'Christmas Day Two', to spend time with the extended family. It was a time of warmth and love and sharing, for which I am grateful still.

Because I know that Christmas is not an easy time for many - for those who have lost their parents, or are alienated from their families, or have been uprooted from their homes (for whatever reason), or have no home to go to, or come from. For all these, Christmas is a time to be got through somehow, endured with gritted teeth.

And I am reminded, as always at this time of year, of the wise words of Howard Thurman:

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins;
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.

Let us live to make it so.