City vs. Country, the eternal struggle.

I went to a town I had never been to before. And it was a real cute place. I caught up with my friend Erika and it was really wonderful.

When you're unsure about change I think it's a basic human reaction to retreat to what you know. And who you know. Anthropologically speaking, I think the creation of religion is a perfect example of that. Attempting to understand the universe is ultimately impossible. We don't know what came first, the chicken or the egg. We don't know the reason we as a species were gifted with an abstract mind. We don't know what happens after we die, spiritually, that is. But by acting as though we know we in return feel more centered and able to deal with the uncertainty in our daily lives. How many times have I heard, "God has the answer". And related to that we can then understand why there are shrines, temples, and churches. They are tangible places to go to feel that same sensation of being centered, protected, at ease. Everyone everywhere has their own center of the world, their own sacred space. Religions have followers because it provides them with answers. The answers themselves depend on the faith, but in each case its just humans' attempt to rationalize the magnificence of life and the unusual presence of an abstract mind. Why us? Why me? We've all heard those questions. We've all asked those questions.

People used to ask me my religion. As a student of anthropology I used to say that I didn't have one, that I tried to be understanding of all religions. I guess now over the years I have realized that I'm one of those people for whom nature is my religion. So hokey to say, I know, but still very true. I live in a city, and it is, by design, separate from nature. And it is amazing. Cultures, languages, sounds, man-made creations that awe and mesmorize, beautiful people, ugly people, everything you need and even more things you don't, all at your fingertips. And yet I went to a virtual "nowhere" where the main attraction was a stand of woods with American beech trees scattered in the interior, their dried brown leaves still fluttering stuck to the cold branches. And I thought, "I feel very at home here". Centered, protected, alive.

With changes on the work front and my ever-present flightiness, I've been thinking about how much longer we'll stay living in the city. I have done good work here reconnecting people to the natural world that they forget about while dashing from taxi to apartment and back again. I have a lot more work to do in that respect. But recently we've been thinking this challenge isn't quite necessary any more. Some times it is odd to spend time away from the city and then come back and have it feel so alien when it is really your home. Of course nothing is going to happen as quickly as I might think so I best just get back to work. Like I said, I have a lot more to do.

Erika had hanging from her rearview mirror a bunch of shells she gathered in Montauk, just a little trek from where I grew up. All the way up in Pawling I had a little reminder of my own sacred space, and again, it was so wonderful.