interestingly enough, i return to the thought of people as territories, land masses, places again and again.
only, don’t ask me what sort of territory i am or you are. or anyone else is. i would not know. not now, anyway.
the omnia mea mecum porto has some grain of truth in it: wherever you go, whatever you are, comes with you. we are mobile landscapes, continental drifts, global shifts of tectonic plates. we contain geological strata, our meetings cause earthquakes and global warmings. if one of us gets butterflies in the stomach, another experiences a hurricane on a grand scale. some glaciers melting flood other’s lowlands completely.
would not it be great, to say – come, grow your forests upon my hillsides. listen to my boars traversing your moors. would not it be great to say – may your summits ever be glacial, so that my deserts can drink from your rivers and send my rains back to your slopes?
would not it be great to feel the magnanimity of a tectonic plate supporting a continent? experience an ocean washing the world away in one place, only to rebuild it somewhere else?
then why do we enter the alien territory with so much suspicion, self-righteousness and fear? is one stone better than another? is mountain more than a valley? must we make everything just like our own landscape, or tectonic build?
the world around us is slow. it takes millenia for one continent to move close enough to another. it takes global destruction for one plate to depart. maybe, just maybe, it is worth stopping and listening to the land inside our hearts. our heart-land.