I received on short notice an invitation to a workshop in my hometown. I changed my plans to go, waiting to be back home.
It’s hard to say it, but home is not here anymore. I went to the workshop, saw my parents, and contacted my friends. But: my father just moved from his ‘work house’ to a smaller house in the periphery. It’s so far away that if I meet my friends in the afternoon, and the invite me to join them in the evening, I just tell them:”right now I live …”. And they immediatly realise that it is really impossible for me to come back later.
My friends, for the most part, where not there anymore. Summer, week end, in a hot city, and they have all planned to go somwhere for the week end.
The relation with my friends have changed. I still have a couple of good friends, but the rich network of friends I use to have is mostly dead. Life catched up. Some of them are married, some left (like me), to other cities or other countries, or even other continents. I also lost contact with most of my ex girlfriends. Some girls I also lost contact long time ago, when it was clear they just wanted a friendship. And there is even one I am seriously wondering if she is still alive. Last time I heard from her she was in bed, with a pregnancy that she was not supposed to take over. No news from her from that moment.
The girl I use to be with, for many years is now with someone else, and when I phone her she is very busy setting up the house with her new (but actually 1 year old) fiance’. She sais she really wants to see me, but cannot because she has promised him to work int he house, and he took off a day from work. What importance could an old friend that comes back in town have.
The group of people I use to meditate with have dissolved too. I kept in touch with one or two, but mostly they are gone. And hard to recover. I was invited to the marriage of one of those friends of mine. In that occasion I ended up friending the wife of his best friend. And we had an affair the next winter. My friend’s wife realised it. And of course my ex gf too. But my friend probably didn’t. In any case in that ooccasion I realised that love stories with married women are just not for me. I also felt so bad about it I never called my friend again. I am the kind of person who have a real hard time in keeping secrets.
Life catches up. And things happen. And somehow those things tend to make keeping in contact harder. When you live in a place new relationship spring up, and the old ones gets constantly renewed. If I take all the hours I have been with, with my friend (ex gf), from when I left my hometown, not being together was the central theme. Even those hours were spread through many years. Of course I have new friends, mostly in other countries. And not all in the same place.
Amsterdam, London, Paris, and the small towns I lived in. But not here anymore. Few here. My home is not here. But my home is nowhere to be found. My home is the whole Europe. And Thailand too. And Indonesia, and Japan. And a bit also the US. My home is the collection of all those places where I felt home. Where I befriended someone. Where the smell makes me fall in a stupor of, where did I smelled this before.
And so when I come here, I unconsciously enter in some sort of old pattern. Here I am, back home, let me phone to all my friends. I take my agenda, start to go through the names: not this one, she does not live here anymore, wrong phone number (also the parent’s number changed),… and half an hour later I only did 3 phone calls.
I really need to stop considering this place my home town. I really need to stop considering I have a home town. My home town is my belly, or the whole earth.
I came here for a workshop. The workshop went well. I also saw my parents and a couple of my ancient friends. And this is all. This is the mature position on the topic. Being here is no big deal anymore. I can pass saturday evening working on my computer, as if I was anywhere else. Those expectations to always have something to do because I am here, are just irrealistic. It is not like this anymore.
Maybe if I repeat it long enough I might actually start believe in it, too. Let’s hope so.
