I’ve been writing my thoughts into a notebook for several months, several pages a day. I wondered, just now, if those thought-writings change the viscerality of my other writing (this book in particular). Or if this is a thought that should be written down in pen and on paper and never seen by anyone, rather than written directly into the Internet and as a part of a book that may one day have a spine. But here we are, so we both know what I decided.
I’m away from home. It’s morning in May right now. The pollen changes as the landscape changes; the Garden State was getting me bad, while Pennsylvania was a slow drip. I’ve been reminding myself to this of home as wherever I am, but everything I’ve learned in the past few years reminds me that having things in a place that are arranged in such a way and sleeping and showering in that place makes one feel at home. And by “one” I do mean me. It’s early in the morning in May, so expect some of the sentences to run on and on and on, just like my nose. So home. I’m in my body, so at home I am. If only it were quite that easy. What is home?
Here we are, the type of question we’re all here to ask: what is the meaning of, the definition of, the narrative-cultural character of “home”? A concept that deserves every pixel or audio book reader emphasis or ink drop of scary quote use. Home is a farce. A myth. A fraud. It’s a bit like currency. One can have it and hold it, and even be inside it, but it gets dirty quickly and doesn’t actually mean almost anything that hasn’t been assigned individually and “collectively” (collective assignment is not a thing – it’s the assignment simultaneously and in a similar enough way by many individuals). Walls, a chair or two, a bed, a shower, a method and tools for making food. A latitude and longitude and altitude that can only be accessed with a key that I have.
When I put it that way, I let out a sigh of relief (just now). I’m here, in the capital of a country, sitting on a couch in relative darkness while the sun comes up, and I don’t control the keys that get me to the lat/long/alt spot where I am. But I am here, and maybe space is just as relative as time. I certainly believed that when I was in my twenties. Where’s the next job? The next city to explore? The next flight going? I wasn’t asking about home because I “knew” it was not a relevant concept. Now I understand that having a place to rest that doesn’t constantly change when rest is needed is extremely supportive of recharging more quickly and more fully. And having that place seems to make the batteries last longer when I’m away. So I have 60% of a charge left, an acceptable percentage even if one were to send a screenshot of one’s phone. No one gets a hard time for a 60% charge, unless maybe it’s before the sun comes up (“What, you didn’t charge overnight? What kind of person are you?”).
Home is connected to family stuff, just like everything else. Another currency-myth that has real consequences for the time and space myths. Abstractions waging a sort of war for primacy; home wrestles with space to take up more of it; home fights time against vacations and road trips; time battles space to get from one place to another. Everyone loves a good war metaphor, particularly Time, Space, and Home, the three gods who started all the wars ever fought (and their permutations, that I’m sure you already well-understand from your probably war-oriented history education). I can pay my respects to the Home god by making sure my plants get watered while I’m gone and paying my rent on time. The Time god doesn’t deserve respect or worship; they have been an angry, vengeful god in my life. The Space god is worth keeping a few idols to, in order to thwart Time when there’s vengeance in the offing. And each one of the deities both doesn’t exist and definitively controls everything (and really, the Home god is more like a sub-deity, an underfed child of the torrential love between Space and Time).
If you’re reading this because you love physics, that’s very cool. If you’re not, then don’t worry, I’m not going to start speculating about the causes, effects, and “laws” of physical phenomena. I’m going to continue to speculate about the causes, effects, and “laws” about personal phenomena, so if you’re tired of it, just leave us behind. Or keep going. Space and Time won’t mind either way, they’re always watching. And Home will be ready when you’re ready.
Roman Ryan 