Finding “Home”
A place that holds all of you
As I watched the sun rise over Chautauqua Lake a few days ago—a daily ritual for the last seven weeks—I realized I had temporarily forgotten that I don’t actually “live” here. That I “live” in Massachusetts in a house that I love in a place I enjoy living—a place where I feel “at home.” Yet something was happening inside me that was quietly demanding my attention.
I’ve called Chautauqua my “spiritual” home for years. Yet in that moment, I knew deep in the heart of my being that Chautauqua was, in fact, “home” for me. “Home” in every sense of the word. And that it has been for years. It’s been the place where I have “come home” to the whole of who I am and to the whole of my life in a way I’ve never experienced anyplace else.
I first came to Chautauqua in 1970 when I was 15 years old, and I’ve come back nearly every summer since. Over those 55 years, I’ve inhabited many versions of myself. And while they all contained the essence of who I am, year after year, I discovered more parts of me. I gained deeper understanding about why I’m here, about what is most important to me, about what I bring to the world. I found my way through several career paths, through relationships, through hopes and dreams, to the point where it feels like I’ve had many “incarnations” in this one lifetime. I learned and evolved through all of them. And once a year, I visited Chautauqua for a week or two where I could reflect and integrate. Chautauqua has been my life-long witness. And now, these last two years I’ve finally achieved a life-long dream of spending most of the summer here. Which has given me the time and space to realize that Chautauqua really is “home.” And this summer, more than ever before, it feels like all those incarnations are coming together into one lived presence—perhaps the last incarnation for this lifetime. Maybe. I don’t know yet. Time will tell.
In a 1984 interview in The Village Voice, American writer and civil rights activist James Baldwin (d. 1987) reflected on authenticity and self-acceptance as a gay Black man:
You have to go the way your blood beats. If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all.
—James Baldwin
He went on to say, “It’s not advice, it’s an observation.”
When I first came across that quote a few months ago, Baldwin’s words resonated deep inside me. And they’ve kept calling me back. Now they’re starting to live inside me.
At first, I resonated the most with You have to go the way your blood beats. The many “incarnations” I’ve lived in this life, all the twists and turns in my journey, and the many parts of me that came of age along the way, have become very present to me this summer. While the essence of who I am has always been there, my blood beat in different rhythms, patterns, and tempos at different times in my life. Now, I’m sensing more and more how every one of those rhythms and patterns were helping me understand and live into the multi-layered fullness of who I have become. And while there could still be more “incarnations” to come or more layers to be discovered—more variations on my blood beat—my sense is that if and when they arise, the variations will be more subtle, less distinct, and more fluid as I continue to mature into my “wisdom” years.
This deepening awareness feels very connected to my realization that Chautauqua is, in fact, my true “home.” Because Chautauqua is where all the many parts of my past, present, and future come together. It’s where I feel the most alive. It’s where I recognize myself the most fully and completely and freely. Probably entering my seventies has helped awaken that awareness to some degree, yet there is something about being “home” at Chautauqua that is bringing it all into clarity and anchoring it in my bones.
The more I embrace the ways my blood beats, the more I resonate with the power and truth in the second part of his statement: If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all.
Throughout my life, I’ve had to uncover and get to know the many aspects of the only life I have and explore them, experiment with them, and ultimately live into them. Every time I tried to follow a dream someone else had for me—every time I tried to live something different than the life my soul was asking me to inhabit—I lost some part of myself. Which led to feeling like I wasn’t living any life at all. In those moments, my life wasn’t real; it wasn’t authentic. Because I wasn’t real. I wasn’t being true to myself.
Yet at the same time, I had to find out who I was, which meant that I had to walk down paths that ultimately weren’t mine to live. Luckily, I didn’t have to go too far down any of those paths before I recognized they weren’t where I was supposed to be. Through each decade, I kept finding my way, following my blood beats, until now I feel like all those blood beats are coalescing into the symphony that has been and is my life.
Perhaps you can relate to my story—this process of evolution in incarnation—this process of living into the many versions of yourself at different times in your life. Even if sometimes they weren’t fully aligned with the essence of who you are. Until thy all found their place within the totality and truth of your being. It could also be that you feel like you are still “in process”—still finding out who you are. It’s all ok. It takes the time it takes.
In a couple of weeks, I’ll return to my house in Massachusetts—back to the house I own, the house that serves as my permanent address, the “base camp” for my work and life for the last seven years. The house that is filled with family heirlooms and art I love and my piano and my study and so many symbols of the mark I have made in the world. A house I love and that takes good care of me. A house where Johnathon and I have shared a lot of laughter as well as some loss, countless wonderful meals around our dining table with friends and colleagues from near and far, stimulating as well as intimate conversations with people dear to our hearts. Yet it’s also a house and community that only knows the last seven years of my life.
At Chautauqua, until this summer, I have rented a room in the same guesthouse that I grew up in; now I rent an apartment. I own nothing here except my car, which remains parked in a lot just outside the grounds. Johnathon and I arrived for the summer with a couple of suitcases, a few favorite items for our apartment kitchen, and cushions for the hard benches in the two primary event venues we frequent daily. There is almost nothing material that “belongs” to us here.
Yet Chautauqua knew my parents and my growing up years and all the stumbles and successes of my personal and professional lives. It saw me through times when I felt unsure or even lost as well as times when I felt confident and steady and sure. Everywhere I look, I see stories of my life—from childhood to first loves, to coming of age as a human being, as an artist, as a thinker, as a spiritual seeker and teacher, as a coach and mentor, and now as a partially retired writer and consultant, and as a man of deep experience and wisdom.
The house I own in Massachusetts takes good care of me in many ways, and for that, I am grateful. It is also my “home” on a certain level. Yet Chautauqua knows the whole of who I am. It connects me to the totality of my being. It embraces me fully and completely without judgment or conditions. It’s where my inner compass is the strongest. It’s where I can sense most clearly into the larger field of potential and possibility for the world and my place in it. Chautauqua is where I know most clearly who I am as a man who is also part of a greater whole.
What does “home” mean for you? How do you recognize “home” for yourself? Is it where you currently live, or is your true “home” someplace else?
I’ve known for a long time that Chautauqua lives inside of me, no matter where I am. When I’m out for a walk in my Massachusetts neighborhood, in my mind and heart I’m also walking along the lake at Chautauqua. I can be fully present in both places at once. I’ve learned that my heart has the capacity to be fully present wherever I am with whatever I’m doing while at the same time keeping me connected to Chautauqua. And for that, I’m incredibly grateful.
You have to go the way your blood beats. If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all.
—James Baldwin
Pay attention to the way your blood beats. Be sure you are living your own life, or you won’t live any life at all. Find the place that is “home” in the biggest sense of the word for you. And if you don’t live there, make sure to spend time there periodically to replenish your soul—to “come home” to the whole of who you are. Go to that place where you feel the most alive—the place where you can show up fully and authentically with no explanation—that place where you are one with your own inner compass. It matters.
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This is such an expansive essay, Alan. It reminds me of Mary Oliver's line from "The Summer Day":
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
And also the cumulative effect of life, which we tend to look at as one long line from birth to death, but in truth it's a deepening, and a cycling back and forth through.
How beautifully you integrate Baldwin's words into your story. Beautiful! The past few weeks have been "The Ma" in my life. A valuable assignment from Utö. My house is decluttered; everything that no longer brought me joy and took up energy has been given a different purpose. It feels like coming home again 🥰