i have been trying to feel myself over the last 24 hours. i feel like i am floating into a vapour state again and i panic. stop. i need to stay solid. but the mind is floating away, getting diffuse and moving away from itself. no more concentration, no more focus. and a lot of fear.
i tell myself it will shift back. let go, be fluid. but i resist it.
having guests in the home changes things for me. even as i lie in bed i am aware of their presences in my space. their holiday-selves, busy and on the go. the space i carefully prepared and fertilised for deep contemplation feels like its being run over by a pack of wild elephants. it is more difficult for me because i work partially from home and rely on having a space which allows me to sink deeply into things - my thoughts, my feelings, my novel. and having that disrupted is a deep, scary boiling.
guests and hosts. i am not a very good host i think. i show my guests where things are and then leave them to tell me what they need. i may be a better guest but only my hosts can really tell me. many years ago in 2001 i spent 3 months travelling, living constantly in other people's homes. somebody described me as a temporary monk. but i felt more like a turtle, or maybe i just connected to my inner-turtle strongly at that time.
a turtle carries its home on its back. a space where it can retreat into in any environment and feel safe. anywhere it goes the feeling of home is with it. for me home meant not a physical space but knowing who i was and feeling grounded in it as i lived and drifted through changing environments. getting in touch with my turtle-self was priceless.
the even more precious learning from that time for me was experimenting with shifting between the roles of host and guest and ultimately slipping fluidly between them. being like schrodinger's cat my friend said. What if when you are a guest you treat the space you are in as your own home? and what if hosts behave like they are guests in their own home? how would things be different and would this then make it easier to share space?
my second host that summer was an amazing woman who was going through her own churning transformation that year. after a few days of being together suddenly it all felt wrong. my host felt it difficult to have a guest in her space for 7 weeks and i felt hopelessly homeless in a country where it would have been impossible for me to spend money on a hotel for that long. But just when it all felt impossible my friend came up with the most incredible solution.
i remember that day so clearly. the heavy walking around and the silent breaking tears. even a warm home-cooked meal by another friend failed to bring any joy and calm. i was drifting like a vapour in my own dense fog.
i remember walking back to the apartment that evening and finding my host beaming at me. 'i got it,' she said, 'i don't want a guest in my home for 7 weeks but i don't mind being a guest in your mountain retreat.' bewildered i listened - 'simple, we switch roles.' at first i couldn't see how. at first i didn't believe it could work. but i tried it on. i stepped into the hosts shoes and made the apartment my own. and the magic began.
that magic grew as i travelled on living in people's homes sometimes putting on the host hat and sometimes the guest. that summer i felt i owned homes in portland, LA, taos and eventually corsica. that memory brings me back into my body now, writing about it allows me to feel solid again. perhaps i can allow myself to let my guests find their own host hats and more importantly reflect on how being a guest in their 'home' would be just the right thing for me today?
guests and hosts. i am not a very good host i think. i show my guests where things are and then leave them to tell me what they need. i may be a better guest but only my hosts can really tell me. many years ago in 2001 i spent 3 months travelling, living constantly in other people's homes. somebody described me as a temporary monk. but i felt more like a turtle, or maybe i just connected to my inner-turtle strongly at that time.
a turtle carries its home on its back. a space where it can retreat into in any environment and feel safe. anywhere it goes the feeling of home is with it. for me home meant not a physical space but knowing who i was and feeling grounded in it as i lived and drifted through changing environments. getting in touch with my turtle-self was priceless.
the even more precious learning from that time for me was experimenting with shifting between the roles of host and guest and ultimately slipping fluidly between them. being like schrodinger's cat my friend said. What if when you are a guest you treat the space you are in as your own home? and what if hosts behave like they are guests in their own home? how would things be different and would this then make it easier to share space?
my second host that summer was an amazing woman who was going through her own churning transformation that year. after a few days of being together suddenly it all felt wrong. my host felt it difficult to have a guest in her space for 7 weeks and i felt hopelessly homeless in a country where it would have been impossible for me to spend money on a hotel for that long. But just when it all felt impossible my friend came up with the most incredible solution.
i remember that day so clearly. the heavy walking around and the silent breaking tears. even a warm home-cooked meal by another friend failed to bring any joy and calm. i was drifting like a vapour in my own dense fog.
i remember walking back to the apartment that evening and finding my host beaming at me. 'i got it,' she said, 'i don't want a guest in my home for 7 weeks but i don't mind being a guest in your mountain retreat.' bewildered i listened - 'simple, we switch roles.' at first i couldn't see how. at first i didn't believe it could work. but i tried it on. i stepped into the hosts shoes and made the apartment my own. and the magic began.
that magic grew as i travelled on living in people's homes sometimes putting on the host hat and sometimes the guest. that summer i felt i owned homes in portland, LA, taos and eventually corsica. that memory brings me back into my body now, writing about it allows me to feel solid again. perhaps i can allow myself to let my guests find their own host hats and more importantly reflect on how being a guest in their 'home' would be just the right thing for me today?
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