Pretty much
looks like a home, right? That's even my van in the driveway to prove it! And yet, I had
a moment of “freak out” during my first week at my dad’s house, having to do
with the sense of being “homeless”. Sure,
it wasn't rational, but there it is. The thought that really set this whole thing off was picturing Ron back in OR,
moving into a small apartment near his work, which triggered me to feel like we had nowhere to
go back to if living with my dad didn’t work out for some reason. Irrational again, really. Our family has stayed in smaller hotel rooms
than Ron’s current apartment. I would not want us all to have to live there very long, but we wouldn’t be HOMELESS.
I think the
more important question is: why doesn’t this feel like a home to me? There are a couple things (and probably more
I am not fully conscious of) that play into this issue.
The first one is pretty simple. I don’t *want* this to be my home. I don’t like this city. Ron hates it even more than I do. It’s hot, it’s dry, there is an overwhelming lack of things for kids to do, it is overwhelmingly
populated with conservative types, and there is not another unschooling family
for miles. Just a couple examples - there is not a
single public year round pool anywhere nearby and the closest miniature golf is
about 45 minutes away. Ron’s dislike is
compounded by knowing it would be 99% likely that he would end up with a job in
LA, which would mean long and bumper to bumper commutes if he were to relocate
here. Not much in life he dislikes
more. Besides, he already has an amazing job in Oregon he loves.
The deeper
issues have to do with a brief time in my life I lived here, after a
particularly sad break up. I had been
living out of state, so I really needed a bit of time to find a job and place
to live when I got back. Just proceeding
the move, I had been engaged and thought I had the perfect relationship, only
to have the guy end it out of the blue (or at least so it seemed to me.) I felt like a complete idiot and
failure, and was totally questioning
my ability to read people. And going to live with my parents? Wow, double failure. It shouldn’t seem that way, being with
family, but that is a huge message in our culture. Value independence over all!
So yeah,
subconsciously I think being here brings back a lot of memories of feeling like
a failure.
Which leads
me to ask, what makes a house a home?
When you look up the definition of "home", the number one line simply reads: the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. Welp, already I guess I have an issue with that one, because this isn't permanent. Ah, the feeling of impermanence, that could definitely be part of the mix. And it also happens to be one of the essential doctrines of Buddhism. Something worth exploring more methinks….
When I searched for images of "home definition, the most common thing you see is some version of this:
When I searched for images of "home definition, the most common thing you see is some version of this:
A place were one lives - I am OK with that. Together as a family - check, at least partially. When a part of your family is missing, does it still count? Affection, joy and happiness? Sometimes, but asking myself this also highlights just how much lack of joy and happiness I have been experiencing in my head. Refuge, resting place, security, protection? I guess, I mean it is a roof over my head and the place I sleep. Where friendships flourish? Ha! Have to laugh at that one. I guess I could be out looking for new friendships in this area, but I don’t really have the time and feel sortof "why bother" if we are planning to be gone by the end of summer. And the closest friendships I do have aren't being helped by long distance That bad attitude is all on me I guess.
This was by far my favorite definition:
This was by far my favorite definition:
Now that sounds like my home. :)
But all this aside, I think I would be happier and healthier if I do consider this my home. So what does that mean for me? Being with my family is uppermost of course, but after that it is about STUFF. Not the most enlightened way of thinking I will freely admit, but such is my nature. I am a visual person and like seeing things around me that represent what is important and meaningful to me, that represent who I am. I also like things to be arranged in a pleasing way. If you know me these days, you will probably find that hard to believe lol. Most of my spaces look anything but pleasing due to being buried in chaos. As it so happens, I am also OK with letting that go in favor of other priorities, but it is always in the back of my mind, and I know I feel happier in an environment I like looking at. So maybe that should be a much higher priority. I do the best I can. As long as I have a few small spaces I can look at and feel connected to, I feel like I can maintain my sanity.
When I first got here, I planned to have one altar area in the bedroom, but I soon found out I had brought way too many things. What a surprise, not. This discovery actually turned out to be sort of a good thing, because it has inspired me to work my things into other areas of the house. I feel good about this, like I am making the whole house my home instead of just one small space. I don’t think we will be here long term, but in the meantime, it is worth it.
For example…
But all this aside, I think I would be happier and healthier if I do consider this my home. So what does that mean for me? Being with my family is uppermost of course, but after that it is about STUFF. Not the most enlightened way of thinking I will freely admit, but such is my nature. I am a visual person and like seeing things around me that represent what is important and meaningful to me, that represent who I am. I also like things to be arranged in a pleasing way. If you know me these days, you will probably find that hard to believe lol. Most of my spaces look anything but pleasing due to being buried in chaos. As it so happens, I am also OK with letting that go in favor of other priorities, but it is always in the back of my mind, and I know I feel happier in an environment I like looking at. So maybe that should be a much higher priority. I do the best I can. As long as I have a few small spaces I can look at and feel connected to, I feel like I can maintain my sanity.
When I first got here, I planned to have one altar area in the bedroom, but I soon found out I had brought way too many things. What a surprise, not. This discovery actually turned out to be sort of a good thing, because it has inspired me to work my things into other areas of the house. I feel good about this, like I am making the whole house my home instead of just one small space. I don’t think we will be here long term, but in the meantime, it is worth it.
For example…
Many images of the divine mother energy.
Which left me with this in the bedroom:
Which left me with this in the bedroom:
(the boas are leftover from Sarah lol)
Still a bit cluttered for my taste, but it will do. So… home sweet home, for now at least. I think this reflection is part of mindfulness for me as well. Be present in the moment. If I see my body as my home, then anywhere I happen to be is home. I can create a beautiful altar in my mind’s eye. But how often do I have the luxury to sit in meditation? Ha! I do much better with the mindfulness of being present with daily tasks. And having lovely things to rest my eyes on for a moment here and there enriches that practice. OK, I am in danger of jumping into a whole new subject here, so I need to wrap it up…
As I come to a close with this subject, I would like to commit to expanding the process I use for moving meditation. Instead of only, “Now I am putting a plate in the dishwasher, now I am putting a bowl in the dishwasher,”etc., start to include, “Now I am looking at the Om chime in the window”. Pause, “Now I am taking a deep breath.” Continue.
Or… to be continued….
Still a bit cluttered for my taste, but it will do. So… home sweet home, for now at least. I think this reflection is part of mindfulness for me as well. Be present in the moment. If I see my body as my home, then anywhere I happen to be is home. I can create a beautiful altar in my mind’s eye. But how often do I have the luxury to sit in meditation? Ha! I do much better with the mindfulness of being present with daily tasks. And having lovely things to rest my eyes on for a moment here and there enriches that practice. OK, I am in danger of jumping into a whole new subject here, so I need to wrap it up…
As I come to a close with this subject, I would like to commit to expanding the process I use for moving meditation. Instead of only, “Now I am putting a plate in the dishwasher, now I am putting a bowl in the dishwasher,”etc., start to include, “Now I am looking at the Om chime in the window”. Pause, “Now I am taking a deep breath.” Continue.
Or… to be continued….
 |
| Phone camera would not focus on this in the window, so I moved it to the wall to get this nice clear shot. :) |
Your situation tugs at me, and my memories needle me. Both my parents sickened and died (cancer) over a period of 2 years, during which I had a third baby, started homeschooling after son #1 had 7 weeks at school, and my husband was made redundant, re-trained as a teacher, left that and went back to engineering. We did not move town or house, nor did we have my parents to live with us, (they lived a couple of blocks away and I visited daily) however, our lives changed so radically in those two years, that some days I felt like I just couldn't breathe. I just wanted everything to be over, to be normal again. Of course it never was normal again - or not the same normal. You are handling things so much better than I did - I can tell, because you are thinking about what's happening, while I was just swept along in the turmoil of a flash flooded river. You will come out the other side. There will be sadness and happiness and regrets and love and tears and anger and more love, and then one day you'll realise that you have reached a new normal, which is worth living. Sending love.
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