Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The chicken coop

Down on intersecting streets just off Hastings there is a humble little home where my heart rests firmly. This home where i lay my head and meager possessions is a gift that gives daily. It may not look like much, but it is my home and has been for almost 10 years.
I had no inkling when i moved in on June 1 2001 that this creaky old building would enrich the lives of so many. Literally hundreds of bodies have moved between these walls in the time i have been here and not once do i remember a single person feeling uncomfortable within, a typical reaction being an intake of the breath followed by a sigh and a smile. Entering through the kitchen you are taken by a spell that hangs in the air, or perhaps it is the home-made food being cooked on the regular. Those that enter are suddenly transported to a home-like place and chances are they will be back for more, so potent is the energy that has soaked into the inner workings of this inanimate yet living breathing structure called a house. This is my home and i love it. 
But this home would be nothing if it weren't for the inhabitants that have passed through it over the years. Be it the nocturnal pothead couple i originally moved in with or the hip-hop crew and graffiti artist collective who took their place. Then there were the alterna-hippy idealists and gentle anarchists as well as every freak and geek in between leading to the colorful group i live with now, So many personalities and so many memories held here. 
The massive block rockin' house parties that stretched until dawn, the dinner gatherings, the movie nights, the new girlfriends brought home who became a regular fixture and sometimes part of the family, the bands in back yards and living rooms, the laughter (SO much laughter!), the array of music streaming from bedrooms, the thousands of hours worth of yoga practiced in big well lit rooms, the visitors from out of town, 1 very special very crazy week culminating in the marriage of roomies Tim and Lucia, the growth, the heartache, the healing......This is my home and i love it. I love the people who made it this way.
She may not look like much, this creaky old former printing press/office space. The paint may be hanging from the ceiling in strips the size of bedsheets and the downstairs bathroom may be molding like month old bread but the soil in the backyard is rich and fertile and makes an excellent garden. My bedroom windows might be thin with the odd crack, letting the Winter chills in that much easier but my floors are wooden and my stretching space is ample. We may have the chicken rendering plant a block away and the prostitutes selling their wares right under our noses but inside it is warm and if you're lucky you might just get to share in a meal or drink with any one of the 7 amazing people who live here with the promise that you'll always be welcomed back. She may have her blemishes and unhealed war wounds, but she is my home.
She is my castle.
She is where i rest my head. 
She is where my heart is, and i love her.


  1. And she loves you! As we all do ya big flailing yogi sweathart!!!!! <3 <3 <3

  2. What comes from the heart goes to the heart!!!
    Enjoyed, thanks.

  3. I love it too! can't wait to come back....

  4. Wow. All that and bits of movies are made there too!

  5. "It's not a house,"said Judas Priest."It's not a house;it's a home".Undeniably that is what I was invited into and I am ever happy to have been included by you.'Cause ya sure don't want just any weirdo dropping by,eh?I respect what I felt there & the generous opening up of your space for dinners,meet-the-parents,dance your ass off till the sun says Hello times.It was always a pleasure to be there in the midst of what you've all created for yourselves.Home is where the heart is boy;so you stay where you're at and I'll come where you're to.xo the Bubbs.