Take Me Home

Q: Why do birds fly home for the winter? 

A: Because it's too far to walk.

What is this magical place birds fly to? What does it mean to say "I've had enough, I'm going home." Where do nomadic globetrotters (and drug traffickers) call home when their bags are perpetually unpacked?

It must be more than a geographical location. Perhaps there are elements of our environment that trigger a sense of home within us.

Firstly, a feeing of safety. Abundant in the beachside suburbs of Pleasantville, more elusive when a potentially violent force looms. Like inmates in an Ecuadorian prison, it's hard to feel home when there is a less than fifty percent chance of seeing the sun again. In the face of danger, only an appropriate barrier allows safety to be found. Afghanistan may be a dangerous country but workers are happy to call the US Embassy home knowing there are several machine guns and surface to air missiles to keep the riff raff away.

Difficult to earn, safety can be stolen as easily as tax from your pay slip. Using a crowbar, the uninvited intruder emulates the tax office destroying any allusion of safety and prematurely terminating the beloved connection between house and home. No surprise that those who have been violated lose not only possessions but a far more valuable sense of home. Many see no option but to leave.

Physical safety and its emotional counterpart are intertwined with a feeling of home.

Next element of home is regeneration. Like a mobile phone calling out for its charger, we need a place to regenerate for the next day. A lion makes do with a warm rock, but we humans have complicated and demanding needs. Physical ones like food and sleep seem simple enough, but mental stimulation and social interaction prove more elusive.

A home with family is better equipped to provide this than a mezzanine loft with one inhabitant fuelled by pizza and beer. The joy of returning to a house full of people, noise, and clutter - akin to a living breathing creature able to share some of its life with those around.

Family is also integral to the last component of home, familiarity. Something unique and individual that sets one apart from the six billion bipedals that share Earth. Seeing the group of people who nurtured you or the people that you nurtured, each helps to impart a familiar feeling of home. 

But there are other ways to find famliarity, even something as simple as the way clutter is scattered in a space. Arranged by subconsious desire, a quiet sense of achievement identifies that physical space as your own. Animals have been doing this for ages, proudly marking their home with bodily secretions to repel others and identify a space as theirs. Something to try if you are struggling to find personal space. 

A uniquely individual space impervious to others develops immaterial ownership which is crucial to feeling at home.

Interestingly, all three factors are needed to yield a comprehensive sense of home. Checking into a five star hotel instantly offers safety and rejuvenation. But without an individual sense of famliarity it soon becomes a sterile and artificial experience. Similarly, living in a remote area without electricity becomes unhomely when simple rejuvenating activities like a hot shower or meal become tortuous ordeals.

But when all are present, the synergism quickly unlocks what we know as home. Famliarity removes uncertainty providing comfort which allows rejuvenation. It becomes effortless, a subterranean warmth rises within us and we are there.

Even if fleeting and transient, its power at that instant should not be underestimated. A sense of home acts like a springboard propelling us into the trials and tribulations of life with a glimmer of optimism. No matter how frequently the geographical characteristics of safety, regeneration, and familiarity change, their combined effect remains the same.

This allows us to view the world as a single space. High speed internet, webcams, and air travel allow us to function whether we are based in one city or many. With human ingenuity, we can find a sense of home without ever needing to be there.