This will be my third installment on the concept of “home”. There may be more out there, but I could only find two others. I guess I did write once about being “home-less”, but that is different. I am compelled to write this rainy, somewhat noisy, Iowa afternoon down by the damn. I hear the spillway and the kids next door. I am not sure if this guy is nuts or a saint, but he has four kids with him, ages about 5 to 12. They are all in the same tent and he is the only adult. Cheers to that!
I am newly back on the road after five months working in the Arrowhead of Minnesota, just off the Gunflint Trail on the outskirts of the Boundary Water Canoe Area wilderness. I feel like I just blinked and it is all over. Time, in some otherworldly fashion, has stood still. I am more relaxed than I was previously while traveling. I am more comfortable, at home, more at ease than I recall. I have no place to be and all the time to get there. I am relearning the road.
I bring with me so much knowledge and growth and information. My summer job taught me so much about myself and the world that my cup runneth over. I also learned more about what I will need in and to feel at “home”. I know I need to be out, as in not in a city, as it out in the wilderness, as in away from malls and freeways and industrial parks. I do not want to hear airplanes, traffic, law mowers or the neighbors. Well, unless they are elk that bugle or an owl calling. I need peace and quiet and a space of my own. I need to hear myself think and see the stars and feel the wind and smell the trees. I have a lot of the knowledge and skills and equipment to make that happen. I am at home away from “it all”.
I need to have access to fresh foods like one would find in a farm or orchard. Wile I want to grow some of my own stuff, what I cannot or do not grow, I want to be able to pick fresh, acquire from a farm or ranch, and preserve for my own use. I miss that connection. I find that all things related to food provide me with a creative outlet and a connection to my world. I miss the experience of food when one grows it, picks it, processes it, and then eats it. True to my experiential and sensory nature, I want to be in on all steps. I also enjoy making food for others. I have no problem putting in the work to grow, process, and redefine food then share it all over the place. That also makes me happy. It is fun to make and process the food, but really brings it home when it is shared.
I am finding that my things represent the concept of “home”. Even in my limited living situation, having those things that I recognize and know make me feel at home. I almost spent a couple thousand dollars to bring the things in my storage unit closer to me. I mean, I really wanted to see my stuff! I want to touch it and sort it and visit with it like an old friend. THAT represents home to me. Living someplace where I can see my books and my glassware and use my own kitchen tools; that will be home.
I was gently talked out of moving the storage unit. I mean, for that money, I can nearly purchase many of the things I wanted to use or get or trade out. Thankfully members of my support team can stay calm when I am having a freak out moment. My belongings give me a sense of place and history. I like not having all the responsibility of a home and such, but there are times I feel somewhat untethered and not grounded, and not in a good way. Having a sense of place and belonging are part of having a home, to me anyway. That feeling of place and roots, where my things and my people and my passions are. THAT is what I know I am or will be home. That is something lacking at present. I am starting to feel that void.
I continue my journey around the country. I am continuing to look for a place to call home and a way to support myself at this home. I know my time on the road and my time working temporary and seasonal jobs is not done. I look forward to more growth and more adventures along the way.
Home… is where you hang your hat, stake in your tent, and build your fire.
Cheers to home!