The Weight of the Diaspora

Hello, this is Ditto.

When I speak the word ‘Diaspora,’ I visualize the distant flight of dandelion spores scattered over dry earth. Before leaving on a long journey, that word may have been merely a vague object of longing or curiosity; however, the weight it carries when it becomes the reality of one’s life is likely quite different.

“Should I set down roots here, or should I return someday?”

That agony which torments you is like a pendulum—a fate the diaspora must shoulder. A heart hovering on the border, belonging fully neither here nor there. Where can one find the presence to sustain oneself amidst this shaking? I draw wisdom from the bookshelves, from those who lived as “boundary dwellers,” to gauge the answer.

The first figure that comes to mind is Edward Said, a scholar who lived his entire life as a "marginal man." Born in Palestine and living in the United States, he defined his identity as an "Exile." In his book Representations of the Intellectual, he describes exile—the life of the diaspora—like this:

“Exile is... an unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted.”

He did not deny the sadness. He acknowledged the solitude of being unable to return, yet unable to fully assimilate into a strange land, exactly as it is. But Said did not stop there. He noted the unique power that comes from this "not belonging."

“Most people are principally aware of one culture, one setting, one home; exiles are aware of at least two... This plurality of vision gives rise to an awareness... that is 'contrapuntal.'”

Just as different melodies overlap in music to create rich harmony, the life of the diaspora is like playing two melody lines simultaneously: the memory of home and the reality of a foreign land. While others see only one, you have become a being with "compound eyes," capable of seeing two worlds layered together. Your presence stems from this "broadened field of vision."

---

If so, how should we handle the agony of "staying vs. returning"?
The Czech writer Milan Kundera, in his novel Ignorance, coldly points out the illusion of "return" (homecoming). When Odysseus returned to Ithaca after his long wandering, it was no longer the home he remembered. Just as he had changed, his home had changed as well.

What we yearn for might not be "home" as a physical place, but "past time" to which we can never return. Therefore, do not bury yourself in the thought of "returning" and suspend your present. Also, do not try to forcibly erase the past while trapped in the thought of "staying." The life of the diaspora is not a matter of choosing one or the other.

---

I seek an answer in the providence of nature. Think of a dandelion spore.

The spore flies far away on the wind. While flying, it doesn't worry, "Should I go back to that field?" Nor does it grieve, "This isn't my home," when it lands on strange soil. It simply takes root where it touches down and blooms a new flower.

Yet, even though that flower grew by eating the soil of a strange land, it remains a dandelion.

The presence of the diaspora is exactly this strength of a "Transplanted Tree."

Because you had to dig deeper to take root in barren foreign soil, your roots are bound to be wider and more solid than those of trees remaining in their hometown.
The French philosopher Gilles Deleuze explained this with the concept of the "Rhizome." It is a nomadic way of life that does not rely on a single central root but spreads out like a tuber, connecting anywhere and sprouting new shoots anywhere.

Become a "walking territory" yourself.

Your existence, fusing the sentiments of home and the experiences of a foreign land, is already a unique world in itself.

Instead of agonizing over whether to stay or return, how about considering "how to connect"?

You are a window delivering the winds of the outside world to people back home, and a mirror showing the depth of a strange world to people here.

The sense of alienation and loneliness you feel is the inevitable weight you bear because you are a "Bridge" connecting two worlds. A bridge is the most sublime place that allows both sides to meet simultaneously. It is okay not to choose one side.

Please believe that the flower blooming on that border is the most fragrant, and the wind blowing on that border is the most refreshing. You have not lost your way; you are in the middle of drawing your own map.

I cheer for your dazzling solitude as you stand under two suns.

This was Ditto.