We Crave a Past in Our Landscapes.

What disconcerts us about suburbia? Not just its sameness, but its absence of time. We crave a past in our landscapes.

I am a sucker for all things global, and far away.  I have always been captivated by travel, and meeting people form diverse places and cultures.  I just love the discovering the ties that bind.  And lately, my thoughts have turned to the continent of Africa.  I find the entire continent mesmerizing, and love to read about it, as much as just stare at images of its' landscape.  Jessica and I just fell in love with the Long Way Down motorcycle journey ( which started in Scotland - traveled through Europe and all of Africa - and completed in Capetown, South Africa) that Ewan McGregor and Charlie Borman completed a few years back.  


But recently, I have started reading and following the journey of journalist Paul Salopek.  Writing for National Geographic, he is attempting to retrace the first human migration.  According to anthropologists and historians - humans originated in East Africa and migrated to all points of the earth.  Salopek is attempting the same journey (From East Africa to Tierra Del Fuego in South America) over a 7 year period - and is calling out the Out of Eden Walk.  It is truly an amazing story to tell.  

In his recent writings, I came across this sentence, "What disconcerts us about suburbia? Not just its sameness, but its absence of time. We crave a past in our landscapes."  This idea has really stuck with me, as I am quite guilty of this sentiment in my daily life.  But it is true that most of my meaningful experiences in life have come directly from the feeling that overcomes me when I am overwhelmed by sense of place.  "A past on our landscapes" really just means authenticity, at least to me.  The feeling that the place we inhabit is unique because nature and/or humans who have come before us have made it that way.  That feeling that permeates me when I know that I am walking in the footsteps that so many others have walked.  Growing up spending time in Old Salem, and living in old houses for most of my adult life has embedded that idea deeply into my soul.  But wherever I find myself these days, I seek authenticity more than anything else.  Usually that takes me to the past.  And living here in the mountains of North Carolina is a wonderful place to start.  From the landscape itself, to the Biltmore house, to the Appalachian Trail - the past permeates this place.  And my children spend as much time in these places of past, as they do anywhere else.  My hope is that this sense of place and personal commitment to fulfill our role will rub off on them.

I did not always know this about myself.  Some years back, we tried to live in the suburbs.  We bought a house that was built recently, in a well manicured neighborhood where power lines were buried, and cars were not parked on the street.  It was a nice place to live, to be sure.  But I craved past on my landscape, and this was not past.  I craved stories of those who had come before, and signs of wear (made by previous hands) on items that surrounded me.  For some reason, I felt more hollow there - and I had to live through it to understand it about myself.  Feeling cradled in the past makes me feel small and humble, and simultaneously inspires me to play my part well, and with spirit.

Africa is no more unique than any other place on earth, concerning the past.  People have lived there for thousands of years, and have lived their lives attempting to survive and find fulfillment - just like North Carolina.  But following journeys through places and time still make me feel connected to the human family.  The ties that bind.