This post has been inspired by a band I’m hooked on at the minute. Austin TX based Urban Heat have been lulling my lugholes on my commute every day. About a month ago, frontman, Jonathan Horstmann, spoke of the way songs transform and reveal additional meaning (watch the Instagram reel here). He was specifically referring to a recent single, Seven Safe Places.
The song is a post-punk sci-fi epic, telling the story of a pair of star-crossed lovers as they hide from one of their disapproving families. Together, they run away across the galaxy, seeking new safe places to hide as the week goes by. Horstmann reflected on his own experiences of being on tour, relishing the safety and peace of his own seven safe places to hide, the different hotel rooms he resides in each night.
He invited others to reflect upon their own seven safe places and spaces. So, here are mine:
1. My bedroom
An easy one to begin with. I think most people’s safe spaces are their bedrooms. At home, it’s the only space which is exclusively mine. I squirrel away in the loft space of a pretty bog-standard 80s semi-detached and I’m the only person small enough to live up there comfortably. Every nook is crammed with books, half filled notebooks, guitars and shiny trinkets. It isn’t perfect, it easily becomes chaotic because of how restricting the storage space is – but it’s a place where many big feelings and creative magic happens.
2. My car
In stark contrast to the chaos of my bedroom is the tidiness and clutter-free space of my car. It was one of my first big adult purchases and whilst it’s nothing special, it’s afforded me the freedom and independence to take myself on adventures. It’s also the only space I can belt out my favourite tunes at the top of my lungs. One of my biggest fears is singing in front of people. In my car, I do this badly and unrestrained. A pure joy.
3. My headphones
This is an odd one. My headphones transform any place into one of safety. With them, I feel completely invincible in most public spaces. Depending on the tones, I’m either transported into other worlds or I’m in deep concentration. When I’m out and about on my own, I’m usually found in a sleepy corner with my headphones on, nursing a pint and scribbling in the margins of some ridiculous academic journal article I’ve found. Which leads me onto…
4. My semi-local vegan pub
On the cusp of the High Peak is little town teaming with lovely independent shops and equally lovely pubs. There’s one in particular which is a longstanding favourite and exclusively vegan. I’ve spent many evenings in there socialising and erm… studying. I realise it’s pretty unconventional to study in pubs, but as we’ve already established, anything’s possible with a pair of headphones and the right corner table. I’ve had some of my best ideas in there (sorry to any of my previous lecturers reading this). It might be the lack of inhibition. It’s more likely the beer. And it’s always handy to have reasonably priced grub available if you insist on staying there for a couple more pints.
5. Open water
It’s taken me to number five to give open water an honourable mention. You may have read in recent posts of my rebellious wild dipping adventure. It wasn’t my first foray into open water. I recall a similar peace jumping into the North Atlantic off the back of a catamaran a couple of years ago. Another one of my lone adventures. It wasn’t exactly the same tranquility I experienced a few weeks ago, but an experience that I felt safe and unbothered within. Submerging myself in cool open water is almost soul cleansing, as cliche as that sounds. Beats chlorine and fluorescent strip lighting any day.
6. The hills and countryside
I’m extremely fortunate to be surrounded by a lot of green space on the corner of the countryside. A short 20 minute drive and you’re completely out in the wilderness of the moors and the Peak District. I haven’t always appreciated living here. Previously, I’d spent most of my time in the city centre with its pulsating polluted heat, busyness and noise. It’s only fairly recently that I’ve truly begun to make an effort to be in the places that remedy the symptoms of late-capitalism. For me that’s being in dreamy woodland, near bodies of water or atop a hill taking in the hazy landscape.
7. My writing (and this blog)
Another atypical response. Whilst much of myself is on display in my writing and it’s not necessarily a place to hide, I find peace in the voice I have curated for myself. So writing (and subsequently this blog) becomes a safe space in its own right.
This mode of expression allows me to explore and find ways of articulating the complexities of my inner workings – explaining the obvious, here. The written word has always been my most dominant form of expression, a realisation I’ve only just made in my thirties. At 8, I was writing short stories. At 16, I was writing angsty poetry. At 21, I was analysing media texts. And at 31, I analyse society and education with relation to the self. I’ve always been a big thinker and a big writer. In the last few weeks, I’ve taken the rather brave step to officially identifying myself as one too.
On my quest to become a better feeler, thinker and writer, I created this space so I could blather into the void without stylistic restriction. It’s a space where I can begin to capture, make sense of and share the connections and philosophies that ignite my energy. Additionally, this space will likely drive a lot of my future work as I begin my PhD – something I imagine is going to be an incredibly visceral, challenging yet oddly therapeutic experience.
So for those who take the time read and digest my words: I hope these rambles, thoughts and experiences resonate. It’s also my hope that some of this writing may help to prompt your own reflections and musings too.
I throw it back to you: what are your seven safe places?