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Home and Land


Fritzie Goes Home by Kate Emery Pogue. Published 1974.

The walls are shaking and the right side of the house is vibrating. It's not an earthquake, it's new windows going in. The border of the relationships and creativity sector of our house is vibrating under the drill removing the old windows (I've tweaked my space to feng shui principles for a long time). I put my hand on the wall as if my touch could lessen the vibration. Like a hand on your back when you are in labor, I am not sure for who or what I'm "comforting" my wall. My house is not my body. But it is, sometimes. Perhaps I am part cat. My sense of self is defined by place.

Home is Where Those I Love Are

Conversely, and out of the other side of my mouth, I've always encouraged my daughter to try to think about home not as a place, not where things (like my beloved childhood book Fritzie Goes Home she almost donated) are, but where the ones you love are. Home is also a spirit that goes with a place, the land, and the living beings on it too. What is home to you? Do you have it now or is it something in your past that you may never fully return to, like for Fritzie?

- In the book Fritizie's family moves to a new house and he runs back to the family's  former home only to find it empty and devoid of what he realizes he truly loves, his people.

Homeless

Do you have homeless where you are? Do you see them? My humanitarian interests in this now immediate past decade have centered much more on helping women and children, or people affected by climate change-induced suffering vs. 2006 when I had the pleasure of participating in San Francisco's Project Homeless Connect.

But I think about them often and contemplate the meaning of home and what it would take to truly change our world to give everyone the dignity of a home. This struggle around home is a world crisis. Right now millions of Syrian refugees are struggling to get to Europe.

Home, Land


Wilderness reminds us of what it means to be human, what we are connected to, rather than what we are separate from.
                                                          Terry Tempest Williams
What home does afford me, is the kiss of nature. I unhesitatingly stuck my nose and clippers into the dead hardenbergia beneath these lovely flowers in our yard. It was a warm day and the tiny purple flowers were filled with hungry, buzzing bees. They were a little irritated I was so close, but didn't threaten me once I stated my intention:

I'm here to take the dead away, to make this vine better. When it is better, than you are better. When it thrives more vibrantly, so will you. They seemed to understand.

Weathered Land, Human Interventions


Obstructed path. Chabot Regional Park, Oakland,CA
I woke up this morning contemplating a concept that went by in the past week:  End Times. On a recent walk through Chabot, tens of trees along the trails were torn away from recent wind storms. The times of calm winds do seem to be coming to an end. But the small bushes and habitats had also been destroyed- cut away by human hands. It was so dramatic along the trail that it struck me as likely fire preparedness. It entirely changed the look and feel of multiple trails.

The trails now felt emptier, uncomfortable and unfamiliar. They felt less like a place where the animals could make their homes and take shelter. The manmade cuts were likely done to protect the horses and stables to create less to burn.

Is there a better way? Who are the people seeking, discovering and sharing approaches to achieve balance with the natural world? There is some hope in new paradigms that might help us rethink our impact- like Regenerative Agriculture.



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