What makes a place home?

Climate and geography shapes us in a profound way. We may travel far in search of the exotic yet we never quite step out of the primordial soup from whence we came and remain innately soothed by the familiar. I grew up in Ireland, an island where no place is further than sixty miles from the sea and where it rains twelve months of the year. A two-year sojourn in what many would consider a Caribbean paradise left me yearning for the peaty smell of hummus and moist earth. While I considered the place home, relished the sun and became immersed in local life, I was never quite ‘at home.’

Squamish on the other hand looks nothing like my native Ireland, yet it feels like it in a primordial way.  There is rain on the wind, salt in the air and rich green smells dissipating from the earth’s pores. Hedgerows are alive with the chatter and squabbles of a myriad of bird species.  There is an abundance of water – sometimes in the form of seemingly incessant rain, but this is an adversary I know well.  Defensive clothing is a natural fit for me and I am undaunted by a walk during a good downpour.

One needs more than the echo of amniotic fluid to sustain one however.  One needs the type of soul mates found only in community.  Community is the cement binding diversity into cohesion. There are many possible points of unity for the newcomer to attach to in Squamish. Recreational groups abound, arts and cultural life is flourishing, and the ever presence of the natural world and our desire to protect its integrity are all strong rallying points. Like-minded souls congregate at these entry points and friendships are formed. I have family close by and a faith community that enriches my life.  It is this vibrant mix of the social embedded in an intuitive sense of place that makes Squamish home for me.