home revisted

i was home this past weekend for my sister's graduation open house. well, first i went home to lansing. then to detroit to pick a friend up from the airport. then back to lansing for the open house.

and in between i was stuck in construction traffic. miles of it. on I-696. on I-75. on I-96. everywhere construction traffic. welcome to the Great Lakes State!

all this to say that i thought more about the idea of home this weekend. in my previous post (5.30.2006), i wondered if i'd feel more at home in europe than here--simply because it's architecture and recorded history date back millenia instead of just centuries, as is the case in the States. Here, it feels like i'm living in a mere wading pool of historical, architectural, cultural waters.

but to be human is to thirst for the deep waters of a story that is much older and larger than ourselves.

and not only does europe have history where we lack. it also has community where we live in isolation. and it has long meals and plenty of holidays--a desirable pace of life--where we rush from task to task without stopping. so in many ways, perhaps europeans live more in line with the way we're meant to live.

but then i started thinking. there are things about being American that i'm sure i take for granted. i have some good ideas what these things are, but i'm going to let myself discover them. ...ha, maybe i'll even feel American for the first time while i'm abroad.

regardless, i'm going to learn about cultures, societies, governments, economies... i could combine all the strengths of the european way of life with the high points of an american lifestyle to synthesize a utopian ideal. but does utopia necessarily imply home? i think not.

So what is home? Home is necessarily where you've lived for a spell of time. it is the cracks in a sidewalk that remind you of when you were going through a breakup. it is the bends in the road that you could more or less navigate with your eyes closed. it is bushes that--though you grow with age--eventually outgrown you. it is piles of rocks you spent your childhood sifting through in search of the shiny, pink ones. ...hour after hour you scanned the massive pile for shiny, pink rocks.

Age and time have a way of making a place feel like home.

And so, while i may discover in europe certain refreshing rhythms and stories... and while i may realize the cultural norms and benefits of being American that I now take for granted, this trip isn't about finding a utopian ideal to call "home." It is about, well, about traveling.

And I'm excited. Being a traveller makes me feel...
:: wild :: i have no one to answer to.
:: commonality with humanity :: i lose myself in crowds as i tread public space.
:: pleasured :: sights, sounds and smells inspire me, and i glean them for future creative reference...