Home is wherever I'm with you...
I was sitting out on the balcony, drinking tea a bit earlier. Just taking some time to relax after these (seemingly) non-stop four? five? weeks. Thinking about going home next weekend when I started to think about my definition of the word "home."
On odd occasions -- normally when I'm stressing over something -- I'll be struck with the memory of my grandpa and I can visualize him talking to me, telling me to relax and slow down. He wasn't a busy man exactly, so much as he merely kept himself involved in many endeavors that he truly enjoyed. Despite always being in demand as a leader of his community, he always found time to walk around or sit on a bench drinking coffee outside of his house and take in all the sensations of life. He knew the landscape of his community like the back of his hand and he took great pleasure in telling stories about the rather small expanse of acreage that made up the quaint community. He loved it greatly because it was his home.
When I left Gallup to come to Durango for college, I was immersing myself in a much different environment for the first time in my life. Durango is green and surrounded by mountains where Gallup is brownish-red with mesas to the north. I never noticed the inherent beauty of my hometown until I left it behind, nor do I fully appreciate the Colorado element until I'm back in Gallup. I'd only ever lived in either one of these towns until I decided to take an even greater chance and study abroad last semester. I traveled more than 5,000 miles to live in England for a few months. Although I'd never been more than a thousand miles from home, I never got homesick - not once. Maybe it was because I was exactly where I wanted to be, supposed to be. Maybe it was because I no longer associated the word “home” with a town or a structure, but instead, redefined "home" as a feeling.
With my previously unknown nomadic nature awakened within myself, I feel closer to understanding that the earth is my home. Not just the planet as a celestial sphere, but rather the cities and forests and oceans that envelop its surface. I feel a sense of peace walking around in the small town my mom raised me in, sitting at my grandfather's house where I spent countless weekends as a kid, looking out the window of my apartment at the snow-covered mountains of Durango, swallowed in the crowds of people traversing the concrete jungle of London, or gazing at the Pacific Ocean on a California beach. All of these places are my refuge and I want to find more. Discover more. I'm no longer content to settle, I desire to roam without pretense.
Sorry, bit of a ramble. I haven't had much time for introspection lately, but I'm trying to change that. I feel as though I'm on the cusp of an internal revelation. Or revolution. Haven't decided which yet.
On odd occasions -- normally when I'm stressing over something -- I'll be struck with the memory of my grandpa and I can visualize him talking to me, telling me to relax and slow down. He wasn't a busy man exactly, so much as he merely kept himself involved in many endeavors that he truly enjoyed. Despite always being in demand as a leader of his community, he always found time to walk around or sit on a bench drinking coffee outside of his house and take in all the sensations of life. He knew the landscape of his community like the back of his hand and he took great pleasure in telling stories about the rather small expanse of acreage that made up the quaint community. He loved it greatly because it was his home.
When I left Gallup to come to Durango for college, I was immersing myself in a much different environment for the first time in my life. Durango is green and surrounded by mountains where Gallup is brownish-red with mesas to the north. I never noticed the inherent beauty of my hometown until I left it behind, nor do I fully appreciate the Colorado element until I'm back in Gallup. I'd only ever lived in either one of these towns until I decided to take an even greater chance and study abroad last semester. I traveled more than 5,000 miles to live in England for a few months. Although I'd never been more than a thousand miles from home, I never got homesick - not once. Maybe it was because I was exactly where I wanted to be, supposed to be. Maybe it was because I no longer associated the word “home” with a town or a structure, but instead, redefined "home" as a feeling.
With my previously unknown nomadic nature awakened within myself, I feel closer to understanding that the earth is my home. Not just the planet as a celestial sphere, but rather the cities and forests and oceans that envelop its surface. I feel a sense of peace walking around in the small town my mom raised me in, sitting at my grandfather's house where I spent countless weekends as a kid, looking out the window of my apartment at the snow-covered mountains of Durango, swallowed in the crowds of people traversing the concrete jungle of London, or gazing at the Pacific Ocean on a California beach. All of these places are my refuge and I want to find more. Discover more. I'm no longer content to settle, I desire to roam without pretense.
Sorry, bit of a ramble. I haven't had much time for introspection lately, but I'm trying to change that. I feel as though I'm on the cusp of an internal revelation. Or revolution. Haven't decided which yet.