As I was coming home from the Polish Deli this morning, thinking about home, what constitutes a home, how we define home – and was deciding it means shelter for both the body and mind and soul – I passed a group of people in a local park. They were gathered around their shopping carts; their sleeping bags were still in a pile on the ground; they were passing around a bottle: they were home having breakfast, according to my definition – in a place that was providing them with shelter, their possessions around them, sharing nourishment. When I can observe without judgment a different perspective occurs. And as one who believes more and more in the power and effectiveness of energy, then such a neutral remarking must result in a worthwhile exchange between nature, in this case human.
I have been thinking about a recent article on homelessness in which the writer states that in countries where people are allowed to ‘make homes’ and ‘make income’ in ways frowned upon in our culture there is not the degree of what we call homelessness. I have been thinking of people losing their homes in natural disasters and, depending upon the country where this has occurred, they immediately begin to rebuild. I am thinking of building codes and mortgages and trends in house design and size and right and wrong side of the tracks and weather dictates and simplifying.
Driftwood homes on the beach intrigue me: people indulging in our natural urge to make our own home from the simplest of materials. When I turned sixty I asked my family to gift me with their time and effort in helping me to construct such a home on the beach using materials the ocean washed up and which it would also take back: they did and it was even more satisfying than I had imagined.
This is a home someone else constructed. The photo is taken from the top looking into the skylight or chimney.