The sight of a whole steamed fish, leafy greens dripping in smashed garlic bits, braised pork belly shimmering in a reddish-brown sauce, and numerous other dishes crowded in the middle of the table, ready for everyone to dig in, family-style.
The sound of Wai Po's chopsticks scraping against the bottom of a plate as she empties its contents into your rice bowl and says, "This tastes good. Eat more."
The feeling of your porcelain rice bowl against your lips, as you shovel every last bit of food into your mouth.
The taste of Chinese home cooking, made with love.
A crackling fire on the hearth; a comically large cup of Merlot in my left hand; my pup dozing on my lap; my ancient, worn slippers hugging my feet; and the mellifluous sounds of laughter reverberating around me.
I was taken from Mission Beach in San Diego against my will to South Carolina at the age of 14. Since then I have been a nomad and moved from apartment to apartment and to a home in Berkeley after retiring from a job that was killing me. Before that I worked for 9 years in a similar job that was killing me in New Orleans. I sold my house and moved to North Carolina. I was 58. I lived for 4 years on savings until I was eligible for retirement. Now I have a job that isn't killing me which is doing things I never had a chance to do. I can sleep as late as I want to. I used to say that I would always be on time for work if I could wear a nightgown and slippers and not brush my teeth or my hair. I am most at home in Maravatio Michoacan where I rent an apartment that comes with friends and family who love me. I adopted two street dogs and that's home for me.
Home is Kasha and Kishka and Kasha Varnishkas – Home is Jewish, Eastern European food.
Home is Jewish Brooklyn
Home is Shatzkin’s Knishes in Coney Island.
Home is the N subway train going into Coney Island.
Home is the ubiquitous funky smells of industry, industrial refuse, of gasoline, of airplane glue, of marijuana, of dog shit. Home is the Cropsey Avenue exit on the Belt Parkway which always smelt like the biggest Asshole of the world
Home are the wonderful smells of the wonderful concoctions of the Italians: Pizza and lasagna and Ravioli.
Home are the frightening Christian smells of my gentile neighbors
Home is eating chicken fat on rye bread to tide you over till supper
Home is playing softball in the itty bit lot of the Jewish Community House of Bensonhurst, the country club for poor Jews.
Home is being stuck in the outfield waiting for balls that never come
Home is seeing beautiful Bobby Kennedy stream by on a motorcade on 86th Street, an angelic vision destined to die,
"Home" is the infinite awareness -- that which is not identified with the body-mind, but simply aware. It is the non-dual realization, that which you cannot even call "home," that which no words can describe.
Home is where ego disappears. “The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.” - The Art of War
Home is wherever you are. There is no one place. When we think this way, we understand that we have a responsibility to the world in which we live and to others. We evolved as hunters / gatherers for whom "home" was where we spent the night and our our "family" were those we knew and supported us and shared with.
Being an international student and moving every couple of years, I find it difficult defining home. The place I left 5 years ago is not the same anymore, and I find myself more at home maybe on Facetime or Facebook Messenger with my parents. Being physically in the house where I grew up is nice and gives a homey feeling, but I am not used anymore to it.
Home is a front yard garden replacing an anacronistic lawn. There's vegetable beds with lanvender, marigolds, yarrow, and monkey flowers exchanging their virtues. Butterflys, hummingbirds, bees light up the air as they trade pollen for nectar.
Home is in my car. I live in a house, but home is the place of transition - where I move in my body between here and there. On a great day, stretching and movement are home. Many places are home, yet the truest ‘home’ of all is in the laughter of a funny moment with another living creature, shared in awareness of the vastness of space.
Home is where kindness and love exist. [Side Note] I thought this week was a great time to dive deep into kindness with Leon Logothetis (The Kindness Guy) and shared my thoughts and favorite quotes from our fireside chat, would love to hear feedback: https://curiousexpeditions.substack.com/p/fireside-chat-with-leon-logothetis
The streets of Detroit, a place so many humans have been taught to fear. I've tried to capture a few different angles of it in my fiction. Some of it is NSFW. jimmydoom.substack.com
Home is in my body, the place where I feel most alive, where I transcend borders of race, class, citizenship status. It is in me when I dance and nothing matters but me and the music.
Home for me used to be Mesquite, Texas, U.S.A. (1964-1984), home to the “world-famous Mesquite National Rodeo, then it was the United States Air Force (U.S.A.F.) after a paper route, working for Dallas Love Field Airport, Grounds Maintenance for 3 summers, Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio (1984), then Wichita Falls (1984), then Lindsey Air Station, West Germany (Deutschland); 1st Combat Communications Group (1CCCG) (1984-1988); all over West Germany, Instanbul, Turkey; Trondheim, Norway (Oslo); Tel Aviv, King David Hotel (Jerusalem); Israel, Tel Aviv; Eglin Air Force Base, Florida; after a short trip to Arnold Air Force Base in Tennessee, only to find my orders had been changed; Computer Operator, assisting base employees in the purchasing of computer equipment, software, hardware, peripherals, computers (1988-1989); the largest corporate law firm in downtown Dallas, Texas (1989-2012), Records Department / Billing Department; Dothan, Alabama (2012-2020) 18 years
Combatting Mark Zuckerburg (Facebook), Jack Dorsey (Twitter), Suntil Pantir (Google) & YouTube Chief Executive Officer (owned by @Google) which had CENSORED 2 videos damaging, demeaning, of Pedo Joe Biden
“I like it when kids sit on my lap”
“I’ve said some dumb things before and I’ll say dumb things aGAIN”
a waveform of intangible awareness, we have never left it ever, it had no start and has no end, so we have been in the waveform forever and always will be...
127.0.0.1
A place where water has no taste.
The smell of ginger, scallions, and garlic.
The sight of a whole steamed fish, leafy greens dripping in smashed garlic bits, braised pork belly shimmering in a reddish-brown sauce, and numerous other dishes crowded in the middle of the table, ready for everyone to dig in, family-style.
The sound of Wai Po's chopsticks scraping against the bottom of a plate as she empties its contents into your rice bowl and says, "This tastes good. Eat more."
The feeling of your porcelain rice bowl against your lips, as you shovel every last bit of food into your mouth.
The taste of Chinese home cooking, made with love.
I am a migrant living in London. Home is a place where my foreign accent is welcomed, not hated.
It's the place you can forget the outside world exists.
Coffee + slippers + a bit of dread.
the sibilant, sinuous, sinister rains of June. delirious and delicious raindrops. monsoon india.
it's where you go when you have no where else to go.
My loving wife of 43 years.
Home is where the family dog is. Fortunately, it happens to be where the family is too.
A crackling fire on the hearth; a comically large cup of Merlot in my left hand; my pup dozing on my lap; my ancient, worn slippers hugging my feet; and the mellifluous sounds of laughter reverberating around me.
"Home is just another word for 'you'". - Billy Joel
I was taken from Mission Beach in San Diego against my will to South Carolina at the age of 14. Since then I have been a nomad and moved from apartment to apartment and to a home in Berkeley after retiring from a job that was killing me. Before that I worked for 9 years in a similar job that was killing me in New Orleans. I sold my house and moved to North Carolina. I was 58. I lived for 4 years on savings until I was eligible for retirement. Now I have a job that isn't killing me which is doing things I never had a chance to do. I can sleep as late as I want to. I used to say that I would always be on time for work if I could wear a nightgown and slippers and not brush my teeth or my hair. I am most at home in Maravatio Michoacan where I rent an apartment that comes with friends and family who love me. I adopted two street dogs and that's home for me.
The inner pages of a book.
Home is something I can’t go home to
Home is Kasha and Kishka and Kasha Varnishkas – Home is Jewish, Eastern European food.
Home is Jewish Brooklyn
Home is Shatzkin’s Knishes in Coney Island.
Home is the N subway train going into Coney Island.
Home is the ubiquitous funky smells of industry, industrial refuse, of gasoline, of airplane glue, of marijuana, of dog shit. Home is the Cropsey Avenue exit on the Belt Parkway which always smelt like the biggest Asshole of the world
Home are the wonderful smells of the wonderful concoctions of the Italians: Pizza and lasagna and Ravioli.
Home are the frightening Christian smells of my gentile neighbors
Home is eating chicken fat on rye bread to tide you over till supper
Home is playing softball in the itty bit lot of the Jewish Community House of Bensonhurst, the country club for poor Jews.
Home is being stuck in the outfield waiting for balls that never come
Home is seeing beautiful Bobby Kennedy stream by on a motorcade on 86th Street, an angelic vision destined to die,
Home is where my books are. A comfy chair and a wall of books always feels like home to me
Unconditional love!
Newly married-so wherever my husband is. My sister’s laugh. My city’s skyline (Des Moines, IA). Dreams of being a child with my parents. May they RIP.
Gentleness, noodles with gravy, and forgetting to suck in my tummy.
Home is any place where I feel free to be myself.
"Home" is the infinite awareness -- that which is not identified with the body-mind, but simply aware. It is the non-dual realization, that which you cannot even call "home," that which no words can describe.
Where I don't feel the need to fill up silence with words
Home is where ego disappears. “The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.” - The Art of War
Home is wherever I am and whoever I'm with that makes me feel accepted exactly as I am.
Home is wherever you are. There is no one place. When we think this way, we understand that we have a responsibility to the world in which we live and to others. We evolved as hunters / gatherers for whom "home" was where we spent the night and our our "family" were those we knew and supported us and shared with.
Home is where I go when I close my eyes and everything good that has ever happened to me is all happening simultaneously.
Nature is home. Forests and mountains and water.
Home is where we long to return to
Home is wherever you never have to explain yourself.
Being an international student and moving every couple of years, I find it difficult defining home. The place I left 5 years ago is not the same anymore, and I find myself more at home maybe on Facetime or Facebook Messenger with my parents. Being physically in the house where I grew up is nice and gives a homey feeling, but I am not used anymore to it.
Home is a front yard garden replacing an anacronistic lawn. There's vegetable beds with lanvender, marigolds, yarrow, and monkey flowers exchanging their virtues. Butterflys, hummingbirds, bees light up the air as they trade pollen for nectar.
Home is wherever my family is, so as we move around, home changes.
Home is in my car. I live in a house, but home is the place of transition - where I move in my body between here and there. On a great day, stretching and movement are home. Many places are home, yet the truest ‘home’ of all is in the laughter of a funny moment with another living creature, shared in awareness of the vastness of space.
Here, in the house my great-grandfather built in 1888, while I work to keep mother-nature from reclaiming it.
Home is where kindness and love exist. [Side Note] I thought this week was a great time to dive deep into kindness with Leon Logothetis (The Kindness Guy) and shared my thoughts and favorite quotes from our fireside chat, would love to hear feedback: https://curiousexpeditions.substack.com/p/fireside-chat-with-leon-logothetis
The streets of Detroit, a place so many humans have been taught to fear. I've tried to capture a few different angles of it in my fiction. Some of it is NSFW. jimmydoom.substack.com
Home is in my body, the place where I feel most alive, where I transcend borders of race, class, citizenship status. It is in me when I dance and nothing matters but me and the music.
One of the most powerful places in the world. https://londonarchitect.substack.com/p/the-power-of-home-to-shift-society
Home is where the work has always been (https://richa.substack.com/p/the-truth-about-working-from-home).
Home is slipping into my most comfortable clothes - a large tee and shorts, lying on my favorite couch and watching another episode of "The Office".
Home for me used to be Mesquite, Texas, U.S.A. (1964-1984), home to the “world-famous Mesquite National Rodeo, then it was the United States Air Force (U.S.A.F.) after a paper route, working for Dallas Love Field Airport, Grounds Maintenance for 3 summers, Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio (1984), then Wichita Falls (1984), then Lindsey Air Station, West Germany (Deutschland); 1st Combat Communications Group (1CCCG) (1984-1988); all over West Germany, Instanbul, Turkey; Trondheim, Norway (Oslo); Tel Aviv, King David Hotel (Jerusalem); Israel, Tel Aviv; Eglin Air Force Base, Florida; after a short trip to Arnold Air Force Base in Tennessee, only to find my orders had been changed; Computer Operator, assisting base employees in the purchasing of computer equipment, software, hardware, peripherals, computers (1988-1989); the largest corporate law firm in downtown Dallas, Texas (1989-2012), Records Department / Billing Department; Dothan, Alabama (2012-2020) 18 years
Patrick Hugh Shaffer
1409 North Cherokee Avenue
No. 1
Dothan, Alabama 36303-2625
(334) 798-6460
p.shaffer@ymail.com
patrickhughshaffer@icloud.com
patrickhughshaffer@gmail.com
metastorms@gmail.com
Combatting Mark Zuckerburg (Facebook), Jack Dorsey (Twitter), Suntil Pantir (Google) & YouTube Chief Executive Officer (owned by @Google) which had CENSORED 2 videos damaging, demeaning, of Pedo Joe Biden
“I like it when kids sit on my lap”
“I’ve said some dumb things before and I’ll say dumb things aGAIN”
“Make America Great Again, aGAIN”
“The Best is Yet to Come”
Pat
Home is where I am comfortable being me in order words no pressure of being someone else
Home is work, where I can selfishly be just me.
a waveform of intangible awareness, we have never left it ever, it had no start and has no end, so we have been in the waveform forever and always will be...
An overcast day in Glasgow strolling down Byres Road. ❤️
home is complicated. home is something i yearn for... yet i feel like the older i get, the less i know where it is.
Love, warmth, and family- the one place at the moment I am not compelled to wear a mask.
Home is here, inside of me.
A place where I feel a sense of belonging.
Where I'm not feeling judged or wondering, what do they think/expect of me?