Once again, the feeling of being in between worlds haunts my thoughts and tugs at my heart. It’s the result of contemplating jobs and immigration and perhaps, listening to this song. It’s a curious mix of loving where I am and being caught in the blinding headlight of uncertainty. I am homesick. Yet, when I let myself go there, let myself imagine moving back to where I’m from, the humidity wrapping itself around me like a moist towel, the chatter of a million half-tongues, the familiar and comforting aroma of food I grew up eating wafting in the air, a wave of frustration and discontent comes crashing over me, not in a cleansing or satisfying way, but rather, like a wave of liquid cement solidifying into an impenetrable wall in front of me. I must stay here, in the land that I dreamt of moving to and that I’m now in. I feel called to be here. And even though I’m an outsider here, I feel like it’s home, mostly.
Still, the words of the poet John Clare ring as true as ever, perhaps because we’re never really home until we’re in the presence of our Maker, our God.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil’d or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below–above the vaulted sky.
(from I Am by John Clare)