New Year, New Adventures

In the very infant moments of 2007 I find myself vaulted into a year of adventure.

Up to this point, so many things in my life have been very familiar -- everything from the seasonal cycle and pattern of the school year, to the faces and voices I know so well. I'm leaving winter to re-experience summer, and with Literary Theory still fresh in my mind, I can't help but think what Northrop Frye would say about the archetypal symbolism present in this shift of seasons.

But in a few days, everything is about to become new and interesting again; I'll be experiencing different climates, seasons, people, dialects, cultures, schools, news, food, etc. Despite all that I have studied and researched, I am about to vault myself into the unknown. It's kind of a sublime feeling.

A few days ago I began posting to my blog, and I started writing the entry I'm publishing below. At the time of writing, I was in Vancouver, visiting family. I didn't think it was the kind of material appropriate for a first post, but in retrospect, it really gets at the anxiety I am experiencing as I prepare to leave home. Here goes...

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December 27, 2006

Today I caught myself in a moment, thinking of places I've been and dreaming of places I hope to see. I spent some time today walking along the sea wall in West Vancouver with my uncle Grant and my brother, Mike. As we worked our way through the obstacle course created by some fierce waves earlier this morning, I kept thinking about how even the most seemingly permanent things are susceptible to change. Mother Nature's metaphors have a funny way of reminding us that we are only very small creatures in her world.

Right now, I'm sitting in one of my favourite places in the world -- my grandma's house. As far as I am concerned, there are few guarantees in life: death, taxes, and a reliable stash of chocolates under my grandma's living room table. I love so many things about this place -- the industrial strength green carpet that has been walked on by every pair of feet in my family, the collection of books that continue to capture my interest as I grow older (and wiser?), the incredible shower pressure, Imperial cheddar cheese, my grandpa's blue chair, the family photos that bring life to the living room, my grandma's brownies, the smell of my grandma's perfume and the sound of her laugh, and of course, the routine "goodbye" waves from the front window as guests depart. Stories fill the air, evoking laughter and tears (and the occasional confession of youthful disobedience!), and serve as a strong reminder of my family's roots. I love the familiarity of my grandma's house -- the creak in the dining room floorboards, the steepness of the back steps (which, as a little girl, I used to run up and down wearing my grandma's oversize high heels), the smell of fresh BC air flowing into the house through the open Dutch door, and of course, the aforementioned stash of chocolate.

I think the reason I love my grandma's house so much is that for my entire life it has been a hub for family gatherings, and the walls radiate a family history that began over 60 years ago when my grandpa began building the house with his own hands. It just feels like home. If anywhere is a persistent home, it would have to be this place. As I prepare to travel, I keep memories close to me, and when I feel like I need some "home," I'll put myself into the places that have nurtured me and shaped my life.

With all this in mind, I find myself wondering if New Zealand (or any place other than Alberta) will ever be "home" -- and the idea of home becomes increasingly complex when a person begins to break it down. Home is not simply a place where you "hang your hat," but rather, as Leah reminded me through the words of Irshad Manji, "home is where our dignity lives." I'm sure as my travels continue -- this year and for the rest of my life -- I will revisit and re-evaluate my personal understanding of home.

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As centrifugal forces take me away from my comfort zones, I'll ground myself with my most prized moments. Over the past couple days I have realized how challenging it is to pack all the tangible things I think I will need for 7 months abroad, but through this arduous task I am actively reminding myself to pack the less material (but more important) things -- my memories.

Thanks for reading,

L.