As close as you think you are to something, there is space between

Prior to any labels which inevitably became identifiers for a particular time of year, time and place were experienced through the senses and shared story. The subtleties were felt and observed, like the changes in weather, the awareness of the moon’s phase, the return or departure of migratory birds, or the shift in light and temperature. 

It’s what I like to call, one of the original relationships, the one we each have with place. It is something that you and I have a memory of. Each season has a particular color, mood, smell, and feel. All of which when combined together remind me of place. The space where I live, where I’m going, or what it is that I plan on creating, something yet to be discovered or formed but lives in the subtle state of potential.  

I think that place is more than where we live. It’s the space that surrounds us, the place upon which we stand, as well as the space within. It is a force which is continuously expanding and contracting, growing and decaying. I liken it to an empty stage. One which is affected by the vision and creativity of a community, only to be whipped clean for the next season's production. 

To know place is to know nature and to know yourself. It reminds me of a beautiful quote from the Hawaiian educator, poet, and activist Haunani Kay-Trask, “Our story remains unwritten. It rests within the culture, which is inseparable from the land. To know this is to know our history. To write this is to write of the land and the people who are born from her.” 

How is the identity of your place shaped and how does it in turn shape you? Investigate. Be curious. Participate and play.