Socrates, held to be the wisest of Greek philosophers, famously said, ‘The unexamined life is not worth living’. I am not sure if we are taking too many liberties, but perhaps the unexamined home is not worth living in. So let us begin by looking at what it means to be at home.
Before human beings invented writing there was a rich history of storytelling, an oral tradition of fables, myths and legends that had two main aims. The first aim was to entertain by regaling ripping yarns of heroism and adventure. The second, and deeper, aim was to transmit the collective wisdom of the community. These stories were not necessarily meant to be taken literally but to convey wisdom and meaning through symbolism and metaphor. They were there to instruct and remind the storytellers and listeners of the laws governing human nature, as well as the natural laws governing the community and universe in which they lived. Fables, myths and legends were there to convey the mystery of things intangible and intuitive. Over time they were written down and became formalized and, eventually, codified into collections and mythological traditions.
A recurring theme of so many of these stories has to do with the return home of the hero. For example, in Greek mythology, after the battle of Troy, Odysseus spends many years on an arduous but relentless search for his home back in Greece. Perseus had many adventures on his way back home after killing Medusa. There are similar examples from other cultures and traditions. In contemporary culture we too have many epic stories about the return home, from slaves pursuing freedom in Twelve Years a Slave and Roots, to safely bringing home a soldier in World War II in Saving Private Ryan, and even that most famous of dogs, Lassie, in Lassie Come Home. The pain, vulnerability and isolation that comes with being separated from home is also conveyed in historical events such as the doomed expeditions of explorers like Burke and Wills crossing Australia or Scott crossing the Antarctic, and in painting too, such as in Frederick McCubbin’s Lost, portraying a young girl stranded and alone in the Australian bush. The vulnerability and danger are palpable for those separated from home.
There are other kinds of stories as well, about an inward journey home rather than an outward one. These are about redemption and finding ourselves. Road movies and books such as The Grapes of Wrath are classic examples of journeys such as these, as are self-discovery stories like Good Will Hunting or The Razor’s Edge. Following discussions with writer and mythologist Joseph Campbell, George Lucas represented the hero’s journey in his famous Star Wars series of movies. Such journeys may be no less arduous or relentless an odyssey than those described in the Greek myths, and perhaps the inner journey is what the Greek myths were really about anyway.
What does it mean to be at home?
What has this got to do with a book about the contemporary home? Nothing or everything, depending on how you look at it. Nothing if we think of home as merely a place to sleep, a receptacle for our possessions or as no more than an investment opportunity. Many people look at the home in this way these days. But it has everything to do with the home if we think of it as something far more important than that. What are the heroes of these stories looking for in their search for home? What is the pain associated with being separated or alienated from home, or not feeling at home where we live or within ourselves? What is it we are looking for when we get in our car at the end of a day’s work, or board a homeward-bound plane after a long trip abroad? What are we looking for when we sit down to meditate?
Where do we start in terms of cultivating the home we want to live in? A good place to start might be to sit down at home at a time when you are unlikely to be disturbed. Close your eyes, settle for a time and then, in an abstract kind of way, quietly reflect on what you would see the ideal home embodying, not so much in terms of what style of architecture, floor plan or colour scheme you might like, but what qualities would you like it to bring out in you or to communicate to yourself and all those who enter your home. Take a sheet of paper and, down one half of the page, write the key words or points that arise during this contemplation.
Then, when you have considered this for long enough and there is nothing more arising, open your eyes and quietly turn your attention to where you live. Just look. Do this as non-critically, impartially and objectively as you can, as if you were a visitor walking in and seeing your home for the first time. See what arises. What does the place communicate to you? Now walk around slowly. What qualities and characteristics does your home reflect? What does it bring out in you? Write that down next to what you wrote before.
When there is nothing further arising, quietly reflect on what you have written. What are the similarities and differences between what you see as being the ideal on one side, and what you see as the current reality on the other? Again, do this in a ‘discerning’ but non-judgmental way if at all possible.
Each of us will answer these questions in different ways, but perhaps we could come at an answer from a particular direction. What comes with being homeless or not feeling at home where we are? Do we feel isolation, restlessness, insecurity, dissatisfaction, yearning or distraction? Perhaps this gives us an insight into what home, or being at home, is all about — the opposite of this. Potentially home is a place where we can be at peace or come to rest, where we can be ourselves, where we feel safe, where we belong, where we are free of the constraints and demands of daily life. It is also a place from which we can be creative and in which we are nourished. Our current situation may not always feel like that, but what is it that we really want the place where we live to embody? Yes, home is also a place for sleep and entertainment, a place to store things, and it can even be an investment. But is this what is really going to make us happy or lastingly satisfied?
Perhaps we never ask ourselves these sorts of questions, but maybe we should. Maybe we take too much for granted. Maybe we need to create a home for ourselves that fosters in us the things we want to bring out of ourselves and manifest in our lives. Why live in an environment that brings out in us what we don’t want?
So, what is it that you really want? If you answer something along the lines of, ‘I want job security’ or ‘I want a boat’, then ask the next question: why do you want those things? Are they an end in themselves or a means to an end? Ultimately we want those things because of what we anticipate they will give us, such as, ‘If I have job security then I can be at peace’ or ‘If I have a boat then I’ll be satisfied or fulfilled’. States like peace, satisfaction and fulfillment are the deeper, unseen things we desire beneath the more obvious and superficial ones that are superimposed over the top. If so, then why not go more directly for the peace, satisfaction and fulfillment in such a way that is increasingly independent of possessions and external circumstances? Let’s face it, such messages have been at the heart of the world’s great wisdom traditions for thousands of years, and meditative practices have been used as a direct means of exploring such questions.
What is the aim of the previous exercise? For some it might be your first step into mindfulness practice, but one aspect of this exercise is to begin to see what lies beyond the physical trappings. Whether or not we are conscious of it, the environments we live and work in are speaking to us all the time. Just as with speech, the meaning lies beyond the spoken words — with a home, the qualities it embodies lie beyond its physical form. Just as we can say one thing and mean another, so too can a home be architecturally designed, decorated just so, and be in the best neighbourhood, but it might not feel like a home or foster the inner state that we yearn for. On the other hand, a person’s speech may not be the most eloquent but when they are honest and speaking from the heart we feel uplifted by it. Similarly, it can speak volumes when we enter the most humble abode but see that it is lovingly cared for, it contains things of beauty and significance, and it simply communicates the character of the people living there.
Coming home to ourselves
A house is merely a physical form but a home is far more subtle and elusive. It is not that the physical attributes of the home don’t matter, just that they arise from the subtle human qualities of the people living there. Get the subtle stuff right and the physical form will follow; get it wrong or ignore it and the physical form will not be what we want it to be. If we can be conscious of the qualities we want to foster and express in ourselves then the physical form will fall into place far more easily. We would do well to have those qualities in mind right from the time we design, buy or rent a home to the time we furnish, decorate and use it.
So, what is home for? This book will take the view that being at home is a metaphor for finding ourselves — finding the core of our being. What is at the core or essence of our being? Well, if the world’s great wisdom traditions have anything to say about it, our core is where we feel at home and is the source of qualities we could equate with true happiness, peace, beauty, wisdom and inspiration. It is also about the good things in life such as domestic harmony, healthy relationships, good physical health and wealth, and if Socrates is someone to go by, the latter are dependent on the former.
If we are to be philosophical about the mindful home then we will want it to serve us on every level, physically, emotionally and spiritually. How are we to find our core and create a home that reminds us of the qualities associated with it? Well, that is where mindfulness comes in and that is where the next chapter will lead.
