Dispatch from the Front Rage 5.26.21
- Apr 25, 2022
- 2 min read
How do I measure in quality the way I know a place?
I’ve now lived in Colorado for 6 months and moving to a new city during the winter of a pandemic posed itself with more place-based challenges than I naively anticipated. I set standards for myself on what my life should look like after this milestone, and I am humbled at the shortcomings of my expectations. I dreamed of a life of knowing: knowing friendships, knowing routes, knowing the ‘it’ places to go. I wanted to feel experienced and aware of my surrounding areas while holding a robust and dynamic social life. Despite my days being filled with sweet light and important relationships, this spring I found myself disappointed with my knowledge of life here. But now the light lingers past 8:30 and the mornings are honeyed with dew and I hear my soul coming out of sleep asking to be alert in this world. There is an awakening happening in me- a bend in the spiral- that is hungry to understand. This desire to know is still there, just with an augmented definition. To know a place and be in relationship with it, to know who I am in relationship to this place. An intimate knowing like a lover or a best friend where there is a mutual shedding of oneself to belong. And I am curious how that might transpire when it is between me and a dynamic and evolving place? I am looking for new tools to measure relationships with places so that when the Rockies are no longer my home, I will know how to always belong here. Here are some qualitative measurements I’m considering:
Flora and fauna. At a basic level, learning these life forms that are existing alongside me and understanding why they too call this place home.
Micro weather patterns. Understanding how the Front Range pulls in clouds and how the prairie pushes them out. This requires patience and memorization almost as if I'm listening with my eyes.
Meaningful interactions. Regardless of who I am connecting with, do I give my most present self? Do I listen and contribute to the surrounding conversations? What imprint do I leave behind?
Spatial relations. Where are things located? What are they near? How would I get from one place to the next and what is the most delightful way to do it?
Memories. When I inevitably leave this colorful state, what will I remember? What will I hold dear? How can I live my days so that they become the memories I relive in my heart?
Deep time. What was happening here 200 years ago? What will happen here in 200 years? Creatively flexing my brain and honoring the tumultuous past of the colonized west better informs the present world that is revealing itself to me.
These measurements are drafts. Ideas passing me by that catch my curiosity. Perhaps there are some ideas that made sense to you? Or maybe there is another way of knowing you want to share? I’d love to expand this list and share out in the next newsletter, and as always desire to raise ideas collectively.
Towards the light we go– Westward, Ho!
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