I've often wondered about the true meaning of "home". I suspect there isn't one, although there may be many. The closest I've come so far might be that home is where you can die without wishing you were somewhere else.
[29 April 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 24 mm, ISO 800, 1/6 at f8. Plenty of post-processing in Lightroom and Photoshop.]
All content © 2011 Pete McGregor
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11 comments:
Or even live?
True, RR — good point.
“The closest I've come so far might be that home is where you can die without wishing you were somewhere else.”
I’ll have to remember that one.
My grandmother used to say (in Italian), “Casa, casarella, la casa mia è la casa più bella,” which means something like, “Big house, little house, the best house is my house.” In other words, home is were the heart is, and any house can be made into a cherished home.
Paul, that's a nice saying. I like the way it emphasises the feeling, with the geographical location not necessarily being important. Of course, feeling for a place can be very strong, but even then it's often because of the events and people one associates with the place.
Endless possibilities for musing.
Where I hang my hat. Where I keep my stuff. With the one I love. Where the heart is.
It's never been a place for me, not a fixed place. Where I sleep safely, where I am welcome.
I've moved too many times to consider one specific place 'home,' but I can say that everywhere I've been 'home' is where my heart found refuge. Like the hat and jacket (?) beneath it ;0
Zhoen — all those. I agree.
Barbara, I've moved relatively infrequently, but the time I've spent travelling certainly made me think hard about "home". One of my aspirations is to be able to say, consistently, that home is where I am.
I very often wonder how home could be defined and I've not come up with one answer that feels like I can adopt it.
I do love your interpretation though, it sure comes close to how I feel about it.
It also makes me realise, that where I am right now, isn't home!
Leonie, having followed your excellent blog for a while now and having met you (thanks!), I have a suspicion I know where you most feel at home. But sometimes the feeling of being not at home has its own delicious kind of enjoyment — part anticipation and, for New Zealanders in particular, partly something akin to turangawaewae.
Nope, I'm not there yet.
Michael, perhaps, as Basho said, every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home?
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