Is home where we originally laid roots as a child?
Or, is it where we lie our heads and bodies for the night?
Home isn’t a place, it’s a state of mind and way of living that can make the world your home. We’ve outgrown the American Dream – the promise of a house, a yard, a wife, a regular child and a half person (look up the stats).
Home no longer means place. It’s an ever-evolving definition, and we run into problems when we start to chain this definition to a material thing or an idea.
Home has never been a place.
It’s been about the people, the pain, the laughs, the deep-rooted comfort. A place to sink your roots in and build something. A life, a project, a work of art, a relationship.
In an age where tiny-homes matter, where cities are being re-built, and the suburban dream continues to fade away into nothing more than an ember we must change how we view our homes.
A couch can be a home. The bed shared with a stranger can be your home.
A tree in the forest can be your home.
Finding home and love within the cracks of yourself will allow the definition of home to expand to wherever you are.
Someday the time might come to lay deep roots.
Until that time comes — ramble on.
Image via: Jonathan Pendleton