Back "Home" in Calgary

Thomas Wolfe's protagonist George Webber in You Can't Go Home Again said so eloquently "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time — back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."

That may be true, but it sure felt like a homecoming of sorts for yours truly upon landing in Calgary last evening. Sure, the weather was a pale reflection of the tropical magic of Mexico. By all accounts, it has been rubbish around here all spring long, or what has loosely passed for spring. Based on all the rants from my friends and colleagues, this has been the spring of our discontent (with apologies to John Steinbeck).

But home to me isn't about temperature or humidity or precipitation. Home is a state of mind where one finds comfort, purpose and a sense of belonging. I have definitely found my place here at the intersection of the Great Plains and the Rockies, under a big sky. So, for now, Calgary is home. 

There's also something more deeply profound that I discovered about myself during these past few months. I like - no I love - being a foreigner, a stranger in a strange land if you will. Let me attempt to explain.

Sometimes I feel an extreme sense of liberation and freedom in NOT belonging to a place. For me, there is great comfort in anonymity and the ability to move without tether or shackle. Maybe it's an ability born out of necessity due to all the moving I've done since my teenage years. Or maybe, conversely, I've done a lot of moving in a vain attempt to scratch an unseen itch.

I don't fancy myself a loner - I certainly enjoy the fruits of society - music, art, culture of all variety. These are clearly things made by my fellow creatures. But I always feel a bit like I'm on the outside looking in. It's hard to describe, but being a visible foreigner (not quite Ausländer, as I never felt unwelcome) in Mexico for over a month gave a real sense of being on the field, but not really in the game. It was an interesting sensation of being able to move freely and observe people without really being a tangible part of daily life as most people probably know it.

Living in Canada is somewhat similar in certain respects, save the obvious one: it's a lot easier for me to pass for Canadian. And, I suppose in a country with a large immigrant population, I have as much right to "feel" Canadian as someone from China, Kenya or Pakistan who now lives here. So the next step in the immigration process will prove interesting: will I feel any more or less like this is indeed my place, my home once I get my green card or ultimately my citizenship?

Time will tell, as it does in all things. But this little piece of the puzzle now has a place to fit in, and I am left feeling thankful for the time to come to this clarity of mind. My "sabbatical" has a couple more months to go, so who knows what gems await discovery by careful eye and patient hands...?