May 2nd is the sell date on my home. What is, Is. And what will be is rapidly approaching. Though I am and will forever be in exile of my HOME, I am at peace.
I know how men in exile feed on dreams. ~Aeschylus~
Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance. ~Richard von Weizsaecker~
Only the misfortune of exile can provide the in-depth understanding and the overview into the realities of the world. ~Stefan Zweig~
Our lives teach us who we are. ~Salman Rushdie~
Memory has its own special kind. It selects, eliminates, alters, exaggerates, minimizes, glorifies, and vilifies also; but in the end it creates its own reality, its heterogeneous but usually coherent version of events; and no sane human being ever trusts someone else’s version more than his own.” ~Salman Rushdie, Midnight’s Children~
“Exile is a dream of a glorious return. Exile is a vision of revolution: Elba, not St Helena. It is an endless paradox: looking forward by always looking back. The exile is a ball hurled high into the air. ” ~Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses~
“Perhaps the story you finish is never the one you begin.” ~Salman Rushdie~
“So Oz finally became home; the imagined world became the actual world, as it does for us all, because the truth is that once we have left our childhood places and started out to make our own lives, armed only with what we have and are, we understand that the real secret of the ruby slippers is not that “there’s no place like home,” but rather that there is no longer such a place as home: except, of course, for the homes we make, or the homes that are made for us, in Oz, which is anywhere and everywhere, except the place from which we began. In the place from which I began, after all, I watched the film from the child’s – Dorothy’s point of view. I experienced, with her, the frustration of being brushed aside by Uncle Henry and Auntie Em, busy with their dull grown-up counting. Like all adults, they couldn’t focus on what was really important to Dorothy: namely, the threat to Toto. I ran away with Dorothy and then ran back. Even the shock of discovering that the Wizard was a humbug was a shock I felt as a child, a shock to the child’s faith in adults. Perhaps, too, I felt something deeper, something I couldn’t articulate; perhaps some half-formed suspicion about grown-ups was being confirmed. Now, as I look at the movie again, I have become the fallible adult. Now I am a member of the tribe of imperfect parents who cannot listen to their children’s voices. I, who no longer have a father, have become a father instead, and now it is my fate to be unable to satisfy the longings of a child. This is the last and most terrible lesson of the film: that there is one final, unexpected rite of passage. In the end, ceasing to be children, we all become magicians without magic, exposed conjurers, with only our simply humanity to get us through. We are the humbugs now.” ― Salman Rushdie, Step Across This Line: Collected Nonfiction 1992-2002
As always, There’s no place like home, but I’ve come to learn that i’d rather be in a permanent state of exile than a permanent prisoner in my own home.