“We children of the future, how could we be at home in this today? We feel disfavour for all ideals that might lead one to feel at home even in this fragile, broken transition; as for “realities” we do not believe they will last. The ice that still supports people today has become very thin; the wind that brings the thaw is blowing’ we ourselves who are homeless constitute a force that breaks open ice and other all too thin “realities.” — Nietzche
I loved this quote enough to write it down several years ago. I don’t know what it’s from, but he died in 1900, so, before that. I felt and feel the softening that comes when I recognize myself in another’s articulation of their predicament. (I’d hate to tell him that the realities are still too thin, that the ideals are still uninspiring.)
We, children of the future (or perhaps the ancient past), how can we be at home, even in this fragile, broken transition? The question endures.
Home is contentious, at least in the physical sense. I don’t even know if I aspire to it at this juncture, mired as it is in theft and property and domination, haunted as it is by colonization. However, the word also registers the feelings of being held, protected, known, sheltered, at ease. I feel this kind of home knowing how many other people have felt the abiding unease Nietzche articulated (for centuries) and turned it into beautiful questions. This kind of home I can summon; it is a choice I can make again and again, a truce I can come to with life. Home is the amongness I feel with the others turning their discontent and bewilderment into insight, art, generosity, and care. That’s where I’ll hang my hat for now, the porch on which I’ll remove my shoes.