My House Is In Me

This weekend I'm moving out of my house and I'm synching up on a final week in Thailand. During this time of big changes, it is unavoidable, as I begin to sort through all of the random memorabilia that I have collected during my travels and condense it into a backpack, that the reminiscent train starts chugging.

Books, currency from random locations, yoga mats, tents, climbing gear, all of my nick-knacks, a plethora of clothing (dear lord!), and memories are all getting pulled out of the closet, down from shelves, and out from cabinets, as it nears the time for me to make some moves.

It's funny, you set yourself up in a place, you surround yourself with the familiar, and you create a sense of home wherever you go. For me, as I took down pictures and sorted through old papers, I started to realize, that I was without a home. Is my home in New Mexico? Is it in Flagstaff? Is my home in Phuket or in my next destination? Is my home in Denver, a place I've spent so many good times and definitely tied myself to during my summers? Where is my home? Then, I began to think about people in my life. Is home where my family is? Well, I have family in Thailand now, in Santa Fe, in Flagstaff, and in Denver. I have family across the states and around the world. Does that mean that I just have homes everywhere? I guess that's the curse of the traveler jungle girl with a mobile family. When you are moving around and exploring new places, it can be difficult to feel like you have a permanent residence or a home base. It amuses me to think that my "home" can be consolidated and packed up into the same pack that I carted with me to this country some 19 months ago. I had no idea what I was getting myself into then, that's for sure! And, now, as I begin to set off down the road again, my feelings haven't changed. Maybe all I'm doing is trying to find my home. 

I ventured off to visit a friend of mine in Phuket Town. Jill, my beloved climbing companion and good friend was getting settled into a new apartment and I had to stop by and see her. It's funny, but this girl has the ability to create a calm living space no matter where she is. Smack dab in the center of town, I walked into her new place, just a simple room with a small bathroom and deck that overlooks the Portuguese style structures that encircle it. There's something about the attitude of those buildings that I have always found so artsy, funky, and intriguing. It has to do with the grand arches and wooden carved windows, the two story buildings that curve through Phuket, and the Chinese and Portuguese architecture coalescing in a way that gives you the feeling of wandering down Spanish side streets, hunting for hideaway boutiques and coffee shops, but while discovering a completely new art form laid out before you. Images of red Chinese lanterns adorning Thai art galleries absolutely captivate me, but it is all so easy to overlook amidst the chaos of the place. Chaos, that is so easily parted by Jill. 

She hadn't quite set up her watercolor pictures that usually collage her walls, but crossing the threshold and finding myself in the little room, with yellow light streaming in from the window on the far wall, it felt like she had been there forever. It had the feeling of peace and calm and simplicity that Jill somehow manages to unpack in each new location she finds herself in. I took a deep breath and released it out slowly. "This feels right, Jill. I like this space. This is a good room for you," I said and attempted to drink in the energy of the place. I sat down on her little bed and my eyes drifted around the space. "How does she do this", I wondered. "She can materialize home with such ease."

I then told her that I was worried about my own life. I didn't understand how she could just set up shop in a new place and have "home vibes" bouncing around it so quickly. Now, Jill, being from the Philippines, is an excellent English speaker, but her way with words is completely different than a native speaker's. She tends to use phrases and explanations that emerge like the most beautiful metaphors - shear poetry as she attempts to find terms to describe herself and her emotions. It has always blown me away - the stuff she comes up with, and this day was no exception.

As she listened to me explain my problem of a lack of home, she looked around her little space and began to tell me about how it felt for her to leave her last apartment, a place she had become so at ease with. She said that on her last night in her other place, she lay on her bed staring up at the stark white walls that were usually blanketed with her artwork. It's her artwork that, I had thought, gave her room the completed "home" feel. Yet, Jill said that instead of feeling sad about leaving her home, she realized that she wasn't actually leaving at all. The change that had originally been unsettling was no longer scary as Jill found that she didn't need her artwork on the walls. She didn't need her closet filled with yoga mats, clothes, and climbing stuff. She didn't need her memorabilia, her nick-knacks, or her things set out just so. She lay there and looking around her barren home, realized she was okay.

Jill turned to look at me. "My house is in me," she said. She paused for a moment, then continued in the most thoughtful, "You have a house in you, also."

We don't need things, we don't need belongings, we don't need a particular location, or environment to feel home. We are grounded through our love and that's enough. What I'm realizing is that it doesn't matter where I go or what I do, my home is inside of me; my house is in me and through that I am home. If I need calm and peace around me, I must look inside of myself first and that's where I find my permanent location. It's in my heart that I find my base, my center, my calm.

No matter where this next adventure takes me, no matter what happens to me, I have to remember that my house is in me.

But, you have a house in you, also.

Thanks, Jill.