The Wild Instinct of Home: Creating A Nurturing Environment
While walking in the woods near my home in Michigan today, down a soft path of sand and pine needles, I concentrated on being present. I focused on the sounds and the way the light shone between the trees. I focused on how softly I could step- nearly without a sound. I reveled in the splashes of vibrant blue sky that appeared periodically between the treetops.
At one of my favorite parts of the trail, my attention turned downwards, towards my feet. A splash of color caught my eye. It was a perfect red leaf. I slowed to observe, and noticed a few others nearby. While I stood there, very still and quiet a movement registered out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head slowly, while feeling my heart rate increase with the unknown. On the ground near the red leaves, I saw what appeared to me a tiny tail disappear into the brush. A mouse perhaps?
As I stood still, my mind raced back to one of my favorite books from my childhood, Mousekin’s Golden House, by Edna Miller. Mousekin was a tiny brown mouse, and in this particular story, he is preparing a home for the winter. My breathing slowed as I remembered this special tale, and how I continue to read it each year. I have even carried out a part of this story with my own children by bringing our jack-o-lanterns out to the back yard each November and hiding them under a giant Rhododendron, in hopes that a ‘Mousekin’ of our own will make a home inside as winter nears.
The home created by the mouse in the book is filled with downy softness, and eventually Mousekin nestles in for his winter slumber. The image is as clear in my mind as the red leaf on the ground. I love this illustration of home. I begin to think of the feelings of warmth and coziness, of comfort and peace, of quiet and safety that Mousekin must have felt inside of his downy pumpkin. I realize that these words perfectly describe what I want my home to feel like for myself and my family. In the story, Mousekin spends a good deal of time searching for and preparing his home. I wonder what I can do to bring these feelings into mine.
Animals living in the wild form homes out of instinct. They need their home to provide for their needs- it must be safe and warm and dry. There must be food available. There must be space. Nature is wild, unhindered by the expectations we humans face as a culture. It is unphased by the rules we feel we need to live by, or the ‘perfect’ images on social media. I wonder if we carry that wild, uninhibited instinct for creating a home-buried under layers of expectations and comparison. Is it possible to strip back all the layers to find this beautiful whisper? What would the instinct say about creating a home, a warm, safe, cozy place?
Annie Gagliardi, @candidlycomposed.
As fall turns to winter, and we hear warnings of the next wave of the virus, our thoughts turn to what this new season will mean in the time of COVID. How can our home make us feel warm and cozy, bring us peace and quiet, and make us feel safe once we cross its threshold? Whether we return happy, tired, excited, or disappointed, full or empty, our home should give the feeling of nestling into a bed of downy softness, protected from the outside world. Perhaps during this season, it will only be our immediate family crossing the threshold. Some family members will simply cross from a makeshift office in the basement up to the kitchen. Despite that, is it any less important to cultivate this feeling of safety and peace? Or is it perhaps, even more important?
Mousekin could provide these things with soft down and a discarded jack-o-lantern. Our home can cultivate these feelings by our love. Sure, we can have comfortable chairs and blankets, a warm fire and soft lights, but the true comfort comes from us. The real feelings of comfort come from deep inside our wild place, the place that carries that animal instinct of home. This deep wild place carries instincts gleaned not only from the lessons of nature, but from the lineage of our ancestors, the communion of saints. From great grandparents serving soup by candle light during a hard winter. During the depression. Or the Spanish Flu. From Saint Benedict creating places of hospitality for the weary and teaching his brothers to, “welcome all as Christ.” It manifests itself in the smiles that greet, the meals that are served, the hugs, handshakes, the presence.
By giving the people in our home our presence, we are carrying them into our downy soft space. Looking in their eyes, setting down distractions, listening, laughing, and be-ing is how we shelter from the cold of the outside world. I imagine the little mouse on the trail as it scampered off into the woods- perhaps in search of a safe and warm space for the winter. I too continued on my path towards home.
Meet Anna Bonnema
Anna Bonnema is an open-armed Catholic and a lover of words and nature. Anna is a wife to a man with a contagious laugh and a mom to amazing teenage triplets. Though she calls herself an introvert, she loves to gather around the table or the fire. Fueled by tea, lattes, and dog snuggles, Anna loves small celebrations and glitter. Fill your favorite mug and join her on Instagram @annabonnema.