The Power of Place

I was reading a blog by a fellow classmate (http://marnature.blogspot.com ) entitled “No Smoking Allowed.” In this particular posting the “power of place” struck a chord. Apparently, she is a smoker who loves to visit the public gardens near her home, but she refuses to combine the two things. She refers to it as “some unspoken code of conduct.” This got me thinking. Does nature unconsciously dictate our actions?

We like to think that we have control over our own actions, but do we really? For instance, every time I walk past or through a cemetery I feel this unspeakable need to whisper. It’s like I would be breaking some kind of law if I spoke any louder.

Another example comes to mind. As a child I loved to go out and pick wildflowers from my backyard. I stumbled across a patch of tiger lilies once, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to pluck them. These didn’t grow everywhere in my yard like the other flowers. These were an isolated clump that for some reason my youthful innocence would not let me pick. They were special.

So do we really have complete control over how we relate and interact with nature, or is nature really the guide?

Nature's Shaping

Most people do not realize how much their surroundings shape their lives. If we look at our growing and living environments, then we might gain some insights into our individual personalities. We are not separate from nature but shaped by nature.

I was driving into Pittsburgh last Saturday, and I felt completely lost and greatly overwhelmed. I was really grateful for the two friends who were with me and did most of the leading for the evening. Thinking back on this experience makes me wonder how I came to feel so uncomfortable and out of place in a big city like Pittsburgh.

My entire life has been spent in the small town of Mt. Pleasant. My entire family lives within five minutes of each other. I know most of the people at the grocery store and just about everyone that I pass on the street. We never lock doors or worry about being mugged late at night. It is a relatively safe environment.

To make my life even simpler, I don’t live in the actual town. I live in what is known as the borough. On three sides of my house are tall trees with wildlife scurrying all around. We even get deer coming to visit our garden in the backyard. The fourth side of my house offers a wonderful view of the farmer’s field.

We have neighbors who are more like relatives to us than simply neighbors. Any of us would go out of our way to help the other if needed. My closest neighbor Tom never had any children, but he did adopt all of us kids living in the neighborhood. His house was often the meeting point. He even waited at the bus stop for all of us at the end of the day just to make sure we all got home safely.

I grew up in an environment that kept me well protected without me even consciously realizing what was happening. I never had to be suspicious of anyone or guard my possessions from lurking strangers. I am surrounded by wide-open spaces which allow me the privacy to do what I want without having to worry about bothering or offending anyone. My environment has created a nice, secure bubble for my existence. The big city must be outside my bubble which causes me to feel insecure and out of place. I guess I need to broaden my horizons a little.

A New Nature

A new species of trees is found:
Steel enforced trunks
And silver branches methodically arranged

With wavelengths passing through.

Sunshine on a winter day in Pennsylvania is very rare. So it only makes sense that my eyes are magnetically drawn to the setting sun. As I sit and watch the blazing horizon, the beauty of the Crayola sky is interrupted by telephone and cable wires. At first it annoys me because even alone out in nature I cannot seem to escape the intrusions of society. The paved road acting as a partition between the forest and the field of harvested corn – the cell phone towers piercing the sky – the water tower standing above the trees in the distance – the gas wells tucked in the farthest corner of the farmer’s livelihood.

The longer I sit here, which is not long because of the biting wind, I begin to wonder if these objects are actually intrusions. The telephone lines in particular draw my attention. The branches and wires intermingle as if it was the way God had originally intended. They make allowances for each other – moving in harmony as the winter winds pass through. They symbolize progress, change, and flexibility. They have now become a part of nature and its landscape.