I was listening to a song recently from an album I listened to often when I was a lot younger, Sarah Brightman's Harem. The song is called "The journey home."
I remembered how it went in my head, though I couldn't quite recall all the lyrics. On that particular listen, I paid special attention to them and noticed that the first lines were,
The journey home is never too long
Your heart arrives before the train
When I heard those lyrics as a little girl having never left the Philippines a long time ago, I didn't think much of them. But now, having lived lives in two more countries drastically different from the one I grew up in and having ridden numerous trains, I can say that I definitely have more thoughts about these two lines than I used to.
Admittedly, when I thought of the train arriving, I thought of myself standing on a platform in a French train station, eagerly awaiting the train that would take me to wherever it was I was going. It was only later that I realized it probably meant the train arriving at the final destination, home, and the speaker was already in it and her heart already felt like it had arrived home. Curious, I wondered why that more sensible interpretation wasn't the first one I thought of. Why would I think of a state in which I wouldn't have even boarded the train yet and was only still anticipating its arrival in the place I was leaving, rather than the place I was going to?
I sound like I have some really insightful answer to this question, but I don't. While we're still on the subject of trains I'm only having flashbacks to a wonderful time where I would ride them often. How I loved train travel. I think of myself waiting for my train, standing on the platform, and then eventually seeing it approaching from the distance. I'd step back and then see it whoosh by me, feeling the powerful gust of wind it generated, gazing at my reflection flash by at its windows before it came to a full stop. Even the mere thought of going somewhere, and that chance materializing before my eyes in the form of a locomotive machine, made an intense excitement well up inside me. That sensation to me is unbeatable.
In a sense, my heart does arrive before the train as I anticipate new adventures that await after the period of transition within the train ends. I've always used trains as a place to be with my thoughts and iPod, the one environment to be truly tranquil after leaving previous obligations going towards new ones. That is the essence of a journey, I suppose. The act of going on a journey (in this context, the in-between period) can be overlooked in favor of the act of departure and arrival, but it is the journey that gives us a chance to collect our sense of being- who we were before we left, and who we hope to become after we arrive. (Though most of the time when I take small trips it's what I ate before I left and what I hope to eat after I arrive) As journeys are never too long, we must take advantage of the fleeting moments we have as we are moving from one place to another, being sped along by a train or whatever mode of transportation you prefer.
And then there's this "home" business.
At this point, I've been to so many places and met so many people that home to me is more of a sensation than a place. I recall a conversation I had with some friends on Eurotour, telling them "I'm taking a train to Poitiers then from there I take the bus home." Someone remarked upon my calling Parthenay home, bemused. And when I left Poland, as reluctant as I was, going back to France really felt like going back home. When I left France, going back to the USA felt like going back home. Every time I leave the USA to go back to the Philippines, it feels like going home. I just spoke to my (half-listening) sister about wanting to go back to Europe for winter break and which cities I wanted to hit, and I ended it saying "And from Katowice I go back home to Boston."
Home to me is just wherever my life is meant to be lived in the present. As long as I have people I can be close to, and my ambition to fulfill goals I set for myself, I can feel at home anywhere. In this present, I'm in Manila for summer vacation, so Manila is home.
I took a BuzzFeed quiz called, "Which ocean should you live by?" and I was pleased to see this as a result...
You could say that I'm perpetually on a journey to a different home each time as my life continues to change, and I partake in new adventures. The Philippines will always be the place where I grew up and nothing can change that, but as I continue to travel around the world it's inevitable that I'll find more and more places to call home. Perhaps to me the word "home" has lost its meaning as most people interpret it. But well, this new series of entries within my blog is called "My interpretation," isn't it?
I remembered how it went in my head, though I couldn't quite recall all the lyrics. On that particular listen, I paid special attention to them and noticed that the first lines were,
The journey home is never too long
Your heart arrives before the train
When I heard those lyrics as a little girl having never left the Philippines a long time ago, I didn't think much of them. But now, having lived lives in two more countries drastically different from the one I grew up in and having ridden numerous trains, I can say that I definitely have more thoughts about these two lines than I used to.
Admittedly, when I thought of the train arriving, I thought of myself standing on a platform in a French train station, eagerly awaiting the train that would take me to wherever it was I was going. It was only later that I realized it probably meant the train arriving at the final destination, home, and the speaker was already in it and her heart already felt like it had arrived home. Curious, I wondered why that more sensible interpretation wasn't the first one I thought of. Why would I think of a state in which I wouldn't have even boarded the train yet and was only still anticipating its arrival in the place I was leaving, rather than the place I was going to?
I sound like I have some really insightful answer to this question, but I don't. While we're still on the subject of trains I'm only having flashbacks to a wonderful time where I would ride them often. How I loved train travel. I think of myself waiting for my train, standing on the platform, and then eventually seeing it approaching from the distance. I'd step back and then see it whoosh by me, feeling the powerful gust of wind it generated, gazing at my reflection flash by at its windows before it came to a full stop. Even the mere thought of going somewhere, and that chance materializing before my eyes in the form of a locomotive machine, made an intense excitement well up inside me. That sensation to me is unbeatable.
In a sense, my heart does arrive before the train as I anticipate new adventures that await after the period of transition within the train ends. I've always used trains as a place to be with my thoughts and iPod, the one environment to be truly tranquil after leaving previous obligations going towards new ones. That is the essence of a journey, I suppose. The act of going on a journey (in this context, the in-between period) can be overlooked in favor of the act of departure and arrival, but it is the journey that gives us a chance to collect our sense of being- who we were before we left, and who we hope to become after we arrive. (Though most of the time when I take small trips it's what I ate before I left and what I hope to eat after I arrive) As journeys are never too long, we must take advantage of the fleeting moments we have as we are moving from one place to another, being sped along by a train or whatever mode of transportation you prefer.
And then there's this "home" business.
At this point, I've been to so many places and met so many people that home to me is more of a sensation than a place. I recall a conversation I had with some friends on Eurotour, telling them "I'm taking a train to Poitiers then from there I take the bus home." Someone remarked upon my calling Parthenay home, bemused. And when I left Poland, as reluctant as I was, going back to France really felt like going back home. When I left France, going back to the USA felt like going back home. Every time I leave the USA to go back to the Philippines, it feels like going home. I just spoke to my (half-listening) sister about wanting to go back to Europe for winter break and which cities I wanted to hit, and I ended it saying "And from Katowice I go back home to Boston."
Home to me is just wherever my life is meant to be lived in the present. As long as I have people I can be close to, and my ambition to fulfill goals I set for myself, I can feel at home anywhere. In this present, I'm in Manila for summer vacation, so Manila is home.
I took a BuzzFeed quiz called, "Which ocean should you live by?" and I was pleased to see this as a result...
Now that I think of it, I've lived on the Asian and North American side of the Pacific. I've lived on the European side of the Atlantic. It only makes sense I spend my life on the side I haven't yet gotten to explore.
You could say that I'm perpetually on a journey to a different home each time as my life continues to change, and I partake in new adventures. The Philippines will always be the place where I grew up and nothing can change that, but as I continue to travel around the world it's inevitable that I'll find more and more places to call home. Perhaps to me the word "home" has lost its meaning as most people interpret it. But well, this new series of entries within my blog is called "My interpretation," isn't it?
Comments
Post a Comment