In praise of special places

Kaspa writes: This afternoon I've been writing some material for the new Journalling ecourse that I’m running in March. I have been writing about the importance of certain places and how they resonate with meaning for us. This afternoon I am appreciating the earthiness of my being.

Some spaces do seem to have an almost universal appeal. The edges of places, where the ocean meets the land. Desserts. Mountains. As I write this I can see the northern tip of the Malvern Hills. If you follow the ridge to the south you come to British Camp, an Iron Age fort. People have been coming to these hills for thousands of years.

I’m sure it that some of the reasons the ancient Britons had for settling here were practical. A good defensive posture. Access to the spring water. But the hills speak to me of something more than just practicalities, and (perhaps I am just projecting my own romanticism back in time) I like to think for the Iron age community too.

You can see a video of Martin Wainwright talking about and walking up British Camp on the Guardian Travel website here: Britain's Best Views British Camp.

I remember having a conversation a few years ago with my Buddhist teacher about how powerfully geography affects communities. We react to it almost without noticing. Mountain people from two different countries will have more in common with each other than with the plains folk of their own country.

I’ve just read the introduction to Coleman Barks’s Rumi: Bridge to the Soul where he describes falling in love with bridges, “I sometimes fall in love with bridges.” he writes, “One lazy afternoon when I was staying in a house in Kanlica, across from Istanbul,  it was the Sultan Mehmet Bridge, with its Bosphoric procession of boats. The Clifton Suspension bridge near Bristol, England. The lowly San Mateo Bridge across San Francisco Bay...”

What am I saying here? A friend of mine once described me as fiery, in the ayurvedic system. I've just looked up fire (agni) on Wikipedia and I can't match that definition with what I remember from that conversation. But I think part of what my friend calling me fiery implied was an untetheredness from the Earth. It's true that I forget - but each time I go to one of these special places I remember, and give praise for them.