Where is home? – Pico Iyer

‘Where or what is home?’ is a question that’s been occupying me for some time – for obvious reasons – so when I came across this TED talk by Pico Iyer I stopped everything to watch it. If the question interests you, then I recommend you watch it too – it’s fourteen minutes well spent.  (I’ve had terrible trouble getting the video to embed, so if it’s disappeared again you can link to it here: http://www.ted.com/talks/pico_iyer_where_is_home.html)

Iyer points out that ethnic origins no longer define where home is – he’s Indian by ethnicity, but has never lived there nor can he speak any of its languages.  For myself, I’m Scottish by ethnicity and birth, but although I identify to a great extent with Scottish culture and I have a great deal of love for the landscape, I’ve never actually felt at home there.  Even at a young age, growing up in the west of Scotland, I never felt as if I belonged.  As time went past I managed to forget that, and a few years ago I went back there to live, expecting it to be a permanent move.  I was miserable.  That whole feeling of not fitting in and not belonging came back in a huge rush.  Scotland is where I come from, and a place I love to visit, but it isn’t home.

There’s a problem with linking home to a physical place – what happens if that place disappears?  Iyer had the misfortune to have his house burnt down in a Californian bush fire and was left with nothing but the clothes he was wearing and a toothbrush.  That’s an extreme example, thank goodness, but most of us have lost a place that represents home in some much less dramatic way.  Leaving Canterbury felt like losing my home.  I was back there for a week recently, and it really did feel  like going home even though I no longer have any physical roots there.   But the latter isn’t really what home is about:

“…for more and more of us, home has really less to do with a piece of soil than, you could say, with a piece of soul.”  Pico Iyer

That piece of soil may be strongly linked to a piece of our soul, but the soil itself isn’t home.

If home isn’t synonymous with place, we could think of home as being where the people we love are, which is fine if we’re thinking about spouses and pets, but what if your children, parents, and friends all live far away from you?   And what if they all live in different places?  No, home is something far more nebulous and much harder to pin down.  And perhaps it’s something that’s different for different people.

Part of my feeling that Canterbury is still home lies in its familiarity. For the first time in a year and a half, I knew how to get to places, I knew where the best places were to go, I knew where to buy the things I wanted – it was all so easy and reassuringly familiar.  New places are exciting, it’s true, but when you have to actively remember where the light switch is each time you want to put it on, novelty can get a bit wearing.  I know some people thrive on it – they’re the travellers, the adventurers.  I’ve never been like that.  My taste for adventure lies in new ideas, different ways of thinking and being, and to travel effectively in my mind, I find I need a familiar, reliable, physical base.  You may be quite different.

Home is more like a feeling than something that you can point to. I still find it difficult to understand why I feel at home in one place, but not in another, which doesn’t help when I have to make choices about where to live.  I never felt at home when we were living in Cheshire, although it isn’t obvious to me why that was.  And I already feel much more at home where I’m living now, even though I’ve been here less than two months.  It isn’t exactly ‘home’ yet, but I can see that it might become it in time.  Home, for me, feels something like having a familiar, stable base – a metaphorical and physical fixed point from where I can venture out and explore.  It’s a mixture of familiarity, proximity to people I love, and perhaps most of all,  a feeling of belonging. The first and last of these take time to develop, and sometimes never do.  I wonder if there are places where we simply never can feel at home?  I think it’s possible.