Chosen Home. Home, at home, being at home. Place, people, feeling, safety.

To go to in my own, my chosen home,
along with the word piece / spoken word poem / rap mood piece / poem,
click here.

To go to the creativity blog, on the development of
elsas word story image idea music emporium, click here.

All around are the places we live in.
But what does it mean, to be at home?
My father never felt at home.
In my own, my chosen home -
explorations, reflections, word pieces
on the sense of home.

Just what does it mean - chosen home? To what extent do we choose our home, and to what extent is our response to certain places built into us? I remember loving the low rolling hills east of Calgary years and years ago - I felt good there. Now I live on a high plateau, a wide open space with a view over miles and miles of fields and forests. Right now the trees are changing color, much like when I wrote the word piece that became the spark for this project - in my own, my chosen home. The view is not so different from the fields east of Calgary. It feels to me as if there is something about wide open spaces, yet with rolling hills, that evokes a feeling of home in me - chosen home.

I didn't choose where I was born - Vienna a few years after the end of the second world war. My parents were lucky to have a tiny home of their own - one small room all to themselves, with their own entrance to the world. The toilet was down the hall - it was for all the apartments (if apartments isn't too fancy a word for where they lived). But a home of their own - that was something for a young couple in postwar Vienna.

But did my sense of home start there - apparently there was a huge window, bringing in way too much heat in summer, but also loads of light, something I have often loved.

Chosen home - I think this name came to me also because I'm the child of immigrants. To some extent they chose to leave - with dreams of a promised land, a land flowing with adventure, like in the Westerns my father had loved since early childhood, and a land flowing with opportunities, as shown in the films my mother saw at the Canadian consulate. Eacgh of my parents chose to leave, lured by different possibilities, stirred by different dreams, hopes, fears. Yet for neither of them did Canada truly deeply become home - in some ways, one cannot choose to be at home. This was not, deep inside, their chosen home. My father had burned all bridges to a flourishing buisness - he would have had a hard time choosing to go back home, he would have had an emornously difficult time acknowledging that deep inside he longed for another home, did not feel fully at home.

I have chosen to stay. This is a choice - because in my generation masses of English-speaking people chose to leave, chose to make their home elsewhere where English was welcome, where there was no separatist movement.

To what extent, actually, is this my chosen home - and to what extent did I just never make the choice to leave? Did I really choose to stay, that is?

Now my partner and I are rooted in our home - our personal home. Our chosen home is also the closest large city - which was where we lived, home, for decades. To some extent Montreal will always feel like home. Out here in the country is my personal home space. But the city is home in another way - the stores, the streets, the parks, the restaurants, the people, downtown - and my work.

There is so much more on chosen home, but this is the beginning. In my own, my chosen home - thoughts, reflections, word pieces, music. My chosen home, and the chosen homes of many others.

home place, home space, chosen home, forever at home,
home is where the heart is, homeward bound,
no matter how humble there's no place like home,
home home on the range where the deer and the antelope play,
home - where my heart is waiting silently for me, falling into place,
outward bound, homeward bound, chosen home, o give me a home,
hearth, heartland, home cooking, home baking, home fries,
home schooling, home fooling, home and garden,
family, street, neighborhood, chosen home, countryside, familiar sights and sounds,
safety, security, comfort, a roof over my head, a place to put my bags down, a place to call my own,
the world is my home, the world is my oyster, venus on a halfshell,
homeless, roofless, rootless, uprooted, hungry, wretched, restless, wanderlust, leaving home,
wretched like a homeless child, the wretched of the earth, not a crust of bread, o give me a home,
my home my native land, homeland, mother tongue, father land, deep rooted,
homestead, homesteading, home ties,
highrise, condo, apartment, accommodation, house, split level, farm, barn,
farmyard, vegetable garden, flower beds, chosen home, homeless animals, shelter, sheltering,
the sheltering sky, the sweltering sky, chosen home, the far north, wide open spaces,
chosen home, the seasons, the world is my home, my home is the world, at home in,
at home in words, at home in ideas, at home among people, forever at home, never at home,
homeless and friendless, not a friend in the world, a friend in need is a friend indeed,
the luxury of choice, not feeling a home, out of place, o give me a home
______________________________

site design, site construction - Elsa Schieder
copyright © Elsa Schieder, 2006 - all rights reserved
copyright © elsas-word-story-image-idea-music-emporium.com, 2006-2007 - all rights reserved
an all round creative space, creativity emporium and creativity match space
CLICK HERE TO CONTACT

Elsa
of
elsas word story image idea music emporium.com

home NOW in my own, my chosen home contents - all on being at home - a reflection thoughts and word pieces word pieces			contact
Here, on a windswept high plateau, is where I have most come to feel at home. This is also where the words came to me - in my own, my chosen home - and where I started my exploration of what it means, to be at home. home - welcome contents - all on being at home - a reflection thoughts and word pieces word piece only next contact top of page	HOME IS … All around me are the places we live in – old brick houses, apartment blocks, highrises. But what does it mean, to be at home? I didn’t know that question interested me until Karen, a painter, and David, a photographer, asked me if I would like to be part of their project. It had nothing to do with home. They were planning to explore Quebec – “Quebec Seen” – through their very different eyes. I would add another element, words. I wasn’t enthusiastic, but I claimed to be. Yes, wonderful, great project. Maybe it was. But my heart wasn’t in it. At heart, I am not a tourist. I would have to drag myself to place after place. Inside me, everything said, “I’d rather stay home.” My way of getting around my inner foot-dragging was to suggest we start with a weekend at what was just beginning to become my home, the old country place that my partner and I had bought a couple of years before. After all, the countryside was gorgeous, and we would have a place to stay. Karen and David would be the first guests ever – because for two years walls had been coming down, plaster dust was everywhere, windows were changed in mid-winter, the furniture was protected under thick layers of plastic. Philippe, my partner, was off somewhere travelling for work. I spent eight hours setting up the living room. That weekend, David photographed and Karen sketched. I could not make myself do what I was supposed to do – experience the landscape and express this experience. But a couple of days later, alone, watching the autumn morning from inside my home, I heard the words, “in my own, my chosen home,” inside my head. That’s where it all started for me, my exploration of what it means to be at home. I sat down and wrote, walked from room to room and wrote. The words came and came. copyright © Elsa Schieder 2006 publishing house - FlufferDuff Impressions 2006
		IN MY OWN, MYiCHOSENiHOME In my own my chosen homeRRR on a high plateau all alone yet cozy a nest and large inviting in each day I feel blessed inviting in for the eyes the flocks of birds the morning mist the nighttime sky inviting in the forest that changes day by day to russets and reds to shades of gray I feast my eyes I feel blessed in this my chosen homer I've come to rest with cats and dog and partner and stepchild with friends, my friends and theirs those we invite in the landscape is always our guest we invite it in on each side through huge windows with warm wood frames and we begin to put down roots plant rose bushes wild roses near the barn I move from room to room can't settle down my eyes feast can't settle on just one sight though in this my chosen home I've settled in and settled blossom from deep inside open wide my arms my heart which whispers cries let the loving start it's love that floods in from each field each far-off farm each sunrise sunset each far distant hill it's love that warms each cell overflows the heart the autumn fields long grasses furrowed lines will yield to winter to spring to summer sun I stand watching feeling tall slim tufts of hay swaying just outside my window because we've delayed mowing the field around us I like the tall dry grass it's hard to leave to tear myself away I invite I long to stay and to share this my chosen home on a high plateau cozy large spacious warm my home Elsa October 2, 2000 copyright © Elsa Schieder 2006 publishing house - FlufferDuff Impressions 2006 For the word piece only, click here.

	contact your thoughts what home means to you Home ** To go to in my own, my chosen home*, along with the word piece / spoken word poem / rap mood piece / poem, click here. To go home - meaning to the opening page of this site - clilck here. To go to the creativity blog, on the development of elsas word story image idea music emporium, click here. top of page* ** All around are the places we live in. But what does it mean, to be at home? My father never felt at home. In my own, my chosen home - explorations, reflections, word pieces on the sense of home. ** In My Own, My Chosen Home - thoughts on the meaning of chosen home Just what does it mean - chosen home? To what extent do we choose our home, and to what extent is our response to certain places built into us? I remember loving the low rolling hills east of Calgary years and years ago - I felt good there. Now I live on a high plateau, a wide open space with a view over miles and miles of fields and forests. Right now the trees are changing color, much like when I wrote the word piece that became the spark for this project - in my own, my chosen home. The view is not so different from the fields east of Calgary. It feels to me as if there is something about wide open spaces, yet with rolling hills, that evokes a feeling of home in me - chosen home. I didn't choose where I was born - Vienna a few years after the end of the second world war. My parents were lucky to have a tiny home of their own - one small room all to themselves, with their own entrance to the world. The toilet was down the hall - it was for all the apartments (if apartments isn't too fancy a word for where they lived). But a home of their own - that was something for a young couple in postwar Vienna. But did my sense of home start there - apparently there was a huge window, bringing in way too much heat in summer, but also loads of light, something I have often loved. Chosen home - I think this name came to me also because I'm the child of immigrants. To some extent they chose to leave - with dreams of a promised land, a land flowing with adventure, like in the Westerns my father had loved since early childhood, and a land flowing with opportunities, as shown in the films my mother saw at the Canadian consulate. Eacgh of my parents chose to leave, lured by different possibilities, stirred by different dreams, hopes, fears. Yet for neither of them did Canada truly deeply become home - in some ways, one cannot choose to be at home. This was not, deep inside, their chosen home. My father had burned all bridges to a flourishing buisness - he would have had a hard time choosing to go back home, he would have had an emornously difficult time acknowledging that deep inside he longed for another home, did not feel fully at home. I have chosen to stay. This is a choice - because in my generation masses of English-speaking people chose to leave, chose to make their home elsewhere where English was welcome, where there was no separatist movement. To what extent, actually, is this my chosen home - and to what extent did I just never make the choice to leave? Did I really choose to stay, that is? Now my partner and I are rooted in our home - our personal home. Our chosen home is also the closest large city - which was where we lived, home, for decades. To some extent Montreal will always feel like home. Out here in the country is my personal home space. But the city is home in another way - the stores, the streets, the parks, the restaurants, the people, downtown - and my work. There is so much more on chosen home, but this is the beginning. In my own, my chosen home - thoughts, reflections, word pieces, music. My chosen home, and the chosen homes of many others. Elsa October 1, 2006 copyright © Elsa Schieder 2006 publishing house - FlufferDuff Impressions 2006 ______________________________ home place, home space, chosen home, forever at home, home is where the heart is, homeward bound, no matter how humble there's no place like home, home home on the range where the deer and the antelope play, home - where my heart is waiting silently for me, falling into place, outward bound, homeward bound, chosen home, o give me a home, hearth, heartland, home cooking, home baking, home fries, home schooling, home fooling, home and garden, family, street, neighborhood, chosen home, countryside, familiar sights and sounds, safety, security, comfort, a roof over my head, a place to put my bags down, a place to call my own, the world is my home, the world is my oyster, venus on a halfshell, homeless, roofless, rootless, uprooted, hungry, wretched, restless, wanderlust, leaving home, wretched like a homeless child, the wretched of the earth, not a crust of bread, o give me a home, my home my native land, homeland, mother tongue, father land, deep rooted, homestead, homesteading, home ties, highrise, condo, apartment, accommodation, house, split level, farm, barn, farmyard, vegetable garden, flower beds, chosen home, homeless animals, shelter, sheltering, the sheltering sky, the sweltering sky, chosen home, the far north, wide open spaces, chosen home, the seasons, the world is my home, my home is the world, at home in, at home in words, at home in ideas, at home among people, forever at home, never at home, homeless and friendless, not a friend in the world, a friend in need is a friend indeed, the luxury of choice, not feeling a home, out of place, o give me a home ______________________________ top of page site design, site construction - Elsa Schieder copyright © Elsa Schieder, 2006 - all rights reserved copyright © elsas-word-story-image-idea-music-emporium.com, 2006-2007 - all rights reserved an all round creative space, creativity emporium and creativity match space CLICK HERE TO CONTACT Elsa of elsas word story image idea music emporium.com

All around are the places we live in. But what does it mean, to be at home? My father never felt at home. In my own, my chosen home - explorations, reflections, word pieces on the sense of home.

All around are the places we live in.
But what does it mean, to be at home?
My father never felt at home.
In my own, my chosen home -
explorations, reflections, word pieces
on the sense of home.