The closest I’ve ever felt to experiencing the void of space was when standing in an empty room with four blank walls staring back at me. All the frames and pictures that previously used to decorate my home took my sense of direction with them when they left, leaving me unsure about how to navigate in a room where left and right didn’t matter anymore. There was no edge of a piece of furniture to avoid, no pile of clothes to blindly walk around in the dark when coming home from a night shift. With no hazards or obstacles, the place had lost its charm and was just a blank space filled with nothing else but the reminiscence of a former life. As the brown cardboard boxes were screaming my name outside, I realised that it was time to move on and transform the past into the present. At least there was comfort in knowing that I would carry my home with me.
I tend to look at a new home with the same excitement I imagine a painter looking at a blank canvas in front of him. Nothingness offers you the opportunity to be the judge of your own creativity, and the freedom of creating whatever you want according to your own set standards. The freedom of your own home lies mostly in the opportunity to be in the company of yourself, the true Self that’s not preoccupied with self-consciousness or judgement. I start to wonder how many stories I will lose myself in whilst sitting in my armchair next to the bookshelf? What dinner conversations will get everyone excited, engaged, perhaps even furious and outraged on an otherwise dark and gloomy Friday night? What secrets will be unveiled and vulnerabilities shared when everyone is gathered on the sofa listening attentively? The boundaries are endless as long as you realise the potential of what could be. For the first time, I welcome the uncertainty of not knowing what stories will be written, because that’s exactly what makes the chapters ahead of us so exciting.
Creating a new home entails not only the transformation of a new space, but also the transformation of your own self. Home is not so much the physical architecture of your new living space, but rather something from deep within that you carry with you everywhere. Only later on will it be reflected in the realm of your new walls. It’s not the TV stand in the living room or the potted plant in the kitchen which makes a new home, but rather the entirety of your newly-formed place. It’s the choices you made in deciding where to put your most treasured items, the heart of the living room also known as the sofa, and the pictures that remind you of previous homes. It’s the stain on the carpet holding data of the night it belongs to, the mug collection in your kitchen cupboard, and the CDs next to your CD player that will tell the soundtracks of the episodes lived and recorded here and the people who starred in it. All of this comes with the realisation that you will create and find new homes again wherever you go.The amalgamation of everything you brought with you, everything new you will create, and everything you will take with you further in life is exactly what makes a home not just anyone’s, but your home.
Most of us live in turtle shells. Not only do they protect us from outside harm, but also serve as the skeleton of our own being. The safety of this integral structure makes it easier to move from A to B, as it stays with us wherever we go and takes care of what we already own. It brings familiarity to a hostile and unknown space, enabling us to peak out of our shell once in a while in order to see something new. Our turtle shell is family, the comfort of knowing yourself, and our armour for life. Every hardship, every obstacle we can overcome because of this protection. Without it we’d be too naked and vulnerable to the tiniest meteor thrown at us by a chain of coincidences, falling victim to life’s abject inevitabilities without any way of getting back to safety. A home is the turtle shell we return to after a day filled with work, self-consciousness and unwanted memories, and at the same time the exact place where we reflect upon those things undisturbed. As much as those experiences are vital for a good life, all we want at the end of the day is to run into the open arms of safety and self-compassion and hear that it’s OK to let our masks fall now. And as soon as you’ve taken off your costume, and sink into the comfort of your own bed, you realise that the show is finally over and that it’s time to just be at home now.
