For the past two weeks I have been traveling. During some of the more difficult moments in India, I longed for home. When I imagined it, I did not picture Germany, but either my family’s home on Long Island or my apartment in Albany.
Once I realized this tendency, I reflected on it throughout the trip. A sense of home has been important to me for a long time. In a college course called Contemplation in the American Landscape, I remember specifically confronting this issue while reading Wisdom Sits in Places and At Home on the Earth. As I became more interested in subjects like environmentalism and politics and in authors like Derrick Jensen, I found myself wondering about this even more. As a wanderer and American of European ancestry, the concept of home can be confusing.
I can pinpoint some moments where I felt at home and the connection and comfort that it generates. During my frequent walks through Caumsett State Park near the place I grew up on the North Shore of Long Island. When I returned to the Vassar College quad and library a year after graduation. At the Taste of New Paltz festival staring at the Shawangunks after moving back to the Hudson Valley. Sitting on a rock aside the Trinity River after a day of farming in Hoopa, California. In a hammock reading social work textbooks in V’s backyard in Albany. This exhibits the shifting nature of my sense of home, but it also highlights the importance of ritual and order in my life. In all of those instances, I was in the presence of the familiar, often in places related to nature or meaningful work. In those trying moments in India (the discomfort of which I can most commonly attribute to the general disorganization), my calmness-seeking mind did not immediately linger on German-made memories.
As soon as the airplane began its descent, the green landscape of Germany beckoned me. Even when the farmland gave way to the airport tarmac, its cleanliness and structure soothed me. I had told V that I would not feel at home until we stepped into our apartment, but I was wrong. When my feet hit the jetway, I told him so. Germany is home right now, and I’m happy about that.
While Thanksgiving is not celebrated here, V. and I initially planned to host a holiday dinner for our new friends. Upon making our India travel arrangements, we realized that this would be impossible and that we would simply skip the holiday this year. Always a person reflecting on my blessings, I was sad to miss the opportunity to really sit with gratitude in the way I attempt to each Thanksgiving. I feel compelled now to list the things I am grateful for about my life here in Germany, things that I have been reminded of in the short twenty-four hours since I returned.
I am filled with gratitude for…
– clean, winter brisk air and ice blue sky
– my daily walks through the apple orchard
– a city that is pedestrian friendly
– the space and time to practice yoga
– safe food that can be consumed raw
– warm showers equipped with doors
– a comfortable couch on which I can lay with V