Back in the States

"You're back in town! How long are you visiting?"

Little did I know I'm visiting; I thought I live here. This is a question I started grappling with before I left Nepal (indeed, I'm back in the States as of 5 June at 0845) and am facing head-on here in Boston; where do I live?

At this moment, I'm staying with my parents at their house in Massachusetts, but is that where I live? Heavens help me, not that I'll admit! But does lack of a home indicate that I'm homeless? A homeless, upper-middle class woman with a storage locker, mailing address, and savings account; I'm certainly not included in the statistics summarizing 'homeless' people.

In response to my statement about needing to find a job, my friend Julie suggested moving to Denver for the summer and couch surfing while looking for work. She realizes Denver is not where I will necessarily end up actually working, but she's offered her back bedroom and internet connection to get me started. Denver's a place I love, where people I love live; not a bad place to call home for a few months, at least.

If it's that easy to change one's concept of 'home' in one's mind, what of one's possessions? How do they factor into the definition of home? I'd been content for four months with just two large backpacks o' stuff; what the heck is in that storage locker?

Buddhist teachings tell us that attachment to people or things leads to suffering, suffering leads to unhappiness, unhappiness leads to additional attachment, rinse and repeat. Seeking freedom from the circle of Samsara [circle of suffering] by means of enlightenment is one of the goals of all Buddhists. But does that include divesting myself of my grandmother's bureau, numerous boxes of books, and my kitchen accoutrements? Depends on why I have them.

The kitchen stuff is functional and, all told, expensive to replace; depending upon how long it's to be in storage it's probably cheaper to store it than to replace all of it. Buddhists would see this as a rational explanation for keeping the kitchen stuff; kitchen stuff stays (hopefully not much longer in the storage locker, though!).

In contrast, my motivation for keeping the few furniture pieces that are in there is pure emotional attachment; one bureau was my grandmother's, how could I part with it? The bookshelf, well, I don't know why, but it makes me very sad to think of parting with it. Never mind the photographs and knick-knacks; oy! Best not to even bring those items to the table during a discussion of Buddhism!

And there is the demon I must tame this summer -- emotional attachment to the contents of a 5x5x8 storage locker in Medford, Massachusetts. My immediate goal isn't even as lofty as enlightenment; I want to put that $40.00 per month towards something else -- plane tickets to see my nephews, maybe sponsoring a child in Nepal. But long-term I have much to gain through freedom from attachment: the ability to be present in the moment without thoughts of that 'stuff', less encumbered geographical mobility, maybe even closer relationships uninhibited by 'mine'.

Photo: Me and my stuff in the back of a taxi to the Kathmandu Airport.