What is a home?
I wrote a piece once about the subjective mythology of my personal history. Being adopted does have a certain air of mystery about. An unknown origin can leave the door open for romanticized, or nightmarish, notions as to where you came from.
It’s easy for me to feel separate, or distant, from this mortal world because there’s no hard evidence, or witnesses who claimed to have seen me before the age of one; nothing to prove conclusively that I was conceived outside of a test tube, or was born outside of a lab. Nothing to say that I wasn’t dropped from a spaceship.
Maybe it’s my overactive imagination, but it’s possible that in my heart of hearts I would prefer to be an alien, or some fantastic bio-mechanical creature. I know, I’m really just another face in the vortex of the human condition. We all struggle and suffer…
Many people will tell you, that since we all feel pain, we’re all the same. I don’t agree with the concept. We are united in the experience of pain, but every person’s pain is different — because every mind that interprets the pain is unique.
There is only one person who shares your individual perspective; that’s you and you alone. We’re not alone, but we’re alone. The closest relationship we can have to another person’s perspective is parallel. We can run in the same direction, for the same time and length… but never sharing the same path.
Some people find this unsettling, terrifying, or sad. I feel that way sometimes too. Yet, mostly I feel fascinated and grateful. It makes me valuable as an individual. I have something to offer those around me that no one else in the world can; myself…
I asked myself, “What is a home?” The answer, for me, was “where you reside.” So, I’ve never experienced “going home” because home is someplace I never leave. Home is my Self. For better or worse.
Last thought:
Self is the place, in which “you” reside: Biology is a house. You work with the structure and shape you are given; experience is what makes it your home, everything that it’s filled with. Some items are gifts that are impossible to return. Whether you like them, or not. But, you are free to re-arrange, re-organize, re-decorate, or even tuck certain unsightly things — out of sight, but never out of mind.
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clintirwin said:
The issue of home is so complicated with me that I can’t even attempt this prompt, even though I would like too.
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nooneknowsnothing said:
Thanks for sharing this.
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p-x-r reblogged this from ordinarywonder
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p-x-r said:
Very well said, thanks for the contribution. It is a thoughtful piece to say the least and as someone who isn’t adopted I thank you for a look into the mind of someone who isn’t. Adding this to the post!
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ordinarywonder posted this

