I’m writing you from Hội An, Vietnam, where I returned to after landing here serendipitously last year. The moment I landed a few days ago, I felt at home again. A friend of mine wondered whether there’s a word for this, the feeling for coming to or returning somewhere that makes you feel at home.
So what is home to me, here?
On one side, it’s being embraced by people I’ve met, who welcomed me back with open arms, like Creative Play Residency, a community living I’m part of and hosting next week’s writer’s retreat at, the yoga teacher who recognized me yesterday morning, and the familiarity of it all. The food? Yes, I mean, yes! More than that, the way of eating on small stools, eating with chopsticks as default, the way the air smells—a bit damp, with a breeze—and the honking and traffic flow. And somehow it’s also a sense of being seen with an openness and seeing back at others, that resonates without having a logical explanation.
Perhaps some people, places, and moments simply feel like home because they do.
To me, the question of home is deeply entangled with loneliness.
Sometimes, home is a lonely place.
And other times, loneliness feels like home.
What if, say, your home is being taken away from you?
What do we say to those who have lost their home as a place, or the beings who are home to them? What if home becomes something you do not want to speak about because it is too painful?
As a previous podcast guest, Palestinian-Kuwaiti artist Liane Al Ghusain wrote, “Not only do we know the land, but the land knows us. We are the land and the land is us.”
And what if you worry for the people “back home,” as so many Iranians living abroad do right now—others of whom yearn for “a home you’ve never known”, as Parissa Tosif sings?
“We, the people of Iran, have always been alone,” writes poet Atefe Asadi.
This latest podcast episode is the beginning of pulling on the thread of home — a community episode featuring 10 + 1 voices (listen on Spotify | Apple Podcasts is playing me so the upload will follow later—thank you for your patience 🙏) who reflect and share from where they sit, across different cultural backgrounds and life paths, looking back and forward, and into the present moment.
There are so many perspectives unshared and voices I long to surface and center in the continuation of this work.
For instance, what would a homeless or unhoused person say about home — and how do we feature such a voice with care rather than exoticism? How political is home, and who decides who gets to belong in a society or a place?
The exploration here remains unfinished, and if you feel called, I would love your reflections on home, too.
A bow and thank you for contributing, and for listening.
“Home is a place where my heart feels safe, where I can talk about everything without being judged.” — Prathu
“Home to me was never defined by where I come from, but where I am and where I am is in a physical place. Where I am is where I am in terms of what I’m doing, how I feel, what connects me to the place that I’m currently in.” — Marc
Across continents and cultures, something slowly revealed itself: home is not something we arrive at once. It is something we keep bringing to life — whether in food, music, prayer, language, or the courage to show up for one another.
“Prayer is something that felt like home for me. I heard it for the first time when I visited Marrakesh with my sister and my dad, and it stops you in your tracks. Watching my dad pray, you’ll never see someone so at peace and at home in themselves.” — Aziza
“I have Afghan roots, so I feel deeply at home when I’m speaking my mother tongue with other Afghans, cooking meals, and showing up in solidarity. I believe that you can have multiple homes, multiple anchors.” — Pari
It lives in chosen people and chosen places, and in the quiet remembering that we are all part of the same soil.
“Another string is noticing this connection to the Earth, and the moon specifically. When I see the moon outside, I know it has been observing me always, and I can have this sense of trust in what has been constant, even if everything else has been changing.” — Mallory
It lives in the willingness to keep cultivating by showing up.
“Making people laugh, but also helping them understand where I come from, is part of my search for home.” — Yu Chen
And loneliness is not the opposite of home; it is often the doorway into it.
“Loneliness doesn’t mean something is wrong. It just means you are in transition.” — Shubhab
“Home and loneliness and finding home within myself, learning how to face loneliness…it’s such an important thing about being an adult.” — Tani
🎧 Listen to the full episode: Home Is (Not) a Place, with Voices from the Community
*Apple Podcasts is being difficult, so the upload will follow later—thank you for your patience 🙏
