Since our recent move to Seattle I have been mulling over the idea of living in a place and what that really means. My ponderings began about a week after we arrived here when Ricky said to me, "I think we should really try to live in Seattle, not just go about doing the same things we always do despite the fact that we are in a new and exciting place." This statement sounded odd as it rang in my ears. My initial reaction was mixed, part of me wanted to scream and say no! I will not! Even then I knew how deep my loyalties to Eugene ran. The other part of me complacently thought he was right. Maybe we should take the bull by the horns and face this new place head on. A little part of me does in fact want to experience this city and explore, but I want to do it as a visitor, not a resident. It seems to be that now that we've moved we are Seattle residents but do we really live in Seattle? If I'm being honest, I'd have to say no, we don't.
All of our stuff is in Seattle, we sleep here, eat here, pay sales tax (ugh), and recieve mail at this address. When I re-register to vote I will have to register in Washington (I will still vote for Obama). But, we don't really live here. I have come to the realization that you can't really live in a place when your heart isn't there and when you find yourself constantly pining for another place (other than Disneyland).
During my sophomore year of college I took a class (my favorite class that I ever took) entitled Religion and Ecology. My teacher, John Baumann, artfully began the first class by asking us all to share with the class what we felt our "place" was. For many people their "place" was somewhere outside of Eugene, despite the fact that we were all sitting in a classroom in Eugene. Some people named the place they were born or raised, the place where their families were, the location they were in during a significant time in their lives, and some even named a place that they wished they could go. As a young 20 year old whose only physical move on the map had been from Salem to Eugene, I only scratched the surface of comprehension into the deep meaning of this excercise.
I can confidently tell you now that my place, if I have to choose one, is Eugene. Someone might say to me "shouldn't your heart be where your husband is?" To them I would respond saying yes, it should be, however I know that his heart is also in Eugene, so in that our hearts are together, wishing ourselves to where we truly want to be.
Eugene is my place for many reasons of which I will name a few: many of my closest friends reside in Eugene and Eugene is only an hour away from Salem--an hour away from my family. I like being an hour away from my family. Sixty miles is short enough to travel for sibling's band and choir concerts, for major and minor holidays, and for whatever reason I see fit, but it is far enough away that we have sufficient independence. Eugene is green! I love the Willamette Valley more than any place on earth, the fertile valley with rivers and hills is both enchanting and sustaining. I love my Ducks. I love our football team, but more importantly I cherish the sense of community I feel during football season. I love walking into the grocery store and seeing 80% of the people there all wearing their Duck gear; this is an easily recognizable, physical representation that we all have something in common. Finally, Eugene is really where I became myself. It is the place where I made big decisions about who I would be, what I would stand for, and what my purpose was in the world.
Admittedly, there are other places that hold pieces of my (metaphorical) heart. Salem will always hold a piece of my heart, the piece that contains my childhood. Another piece resides in Yellowstone National Park, a place of sublime beauty that I find very special. There are other little pieces that have attached themselves to distant relatives and far off friends. These pieces travel around with the people that I love and exist where they are. Despite all of this, my place is Eugene. Eugene is where I truly feel at home and where my soul feels at peace.
Where is your place? Do you know?
I suppose my real place is Eugene, but I've always had a soft spot for Paris. In many ways important formative experiences happened for me there. I have a mental picture of its geography and history. I sometimes smell Paris -- in a whiff of stale air like the subway, in stale urine, in polluted winter fog. My most vivid childhood memories are there, curiously enough. I remember going to see the shop windows at Christmas or being frightened of the subway (motto: It is swift. It is silent. It is dangerous. Wouldn't you be terrified?). Ultimately Eugene is home, but I do have this weird longing for France. I feel off balance if I go too many years without returning, since we went back regularly. I don't think of it as a vacation, some kind of once in a lifetime experience. I just assume I'll be going back and doing the same things I like best.
ReplyDeleteAlso camp. I guess I have too many places. But I do love Michigan and feel like that is where summer should be.
Eugene is my only home that is about people. The other homes are all about place, views, atmospheres and pastries. Home is where the treats are.
Great post Lauren. Place is a fun topic to consider. How one defines place is such an interesting question. I think my "place" adds another element to the definition.
ReplyDeleteI have always had a real pride for my heritage and have, in recent years, really immersed myself in the details of my family history. This has really strengthened my sense that my place is Utah... almost anywhere in the state. I grew up in Salt Lake, but spent my childhood visiting family in the west desert, summers visiting family in southeastern Utah and went to school in northern and central Utah. There's a literal sensation when I cross any border into Utah.
I love Eugene, I really do. I have made a solid effort at making it my place, and it really is to a large degree. But when I think "HOME" I think Utah. I think Basin and Range, I think small Mormon settlements in red rock country, I think aspen trees and cottonwood lined ephemeral streams, I think generations of Callisters eaking out a living in the semi-arid west. I joke with Annie that a move back east would be the ultimate insult to our ancestors. I am only half joking... the joking half only prevails because I am able to reconcile my deep personal perception with a more realistic (and more sensitive) perspective.
I think a longing for another place can be a healthy thing but you should always BE where you are. You should contribute where you are and bring all of who you are to that place. I think some of our fear in committing to a new place is the fear that we are betraying or replacing our old place, our PLACE. My experience is that denying any place an honest shot is doing yourself a disfavor. If your place is THE PLACE it will persist, and worst case scenario, it will become another great place in your life's "place catalog." Thanks for the thought provoking post.
Mmm, good feedback. I can identify very much with the feel of a place, one that has nothing to do with people but atmosphere instead. I also get that idea of feeling rooted to a place. I get a bit of that feeling in Yellowstone, not because of human ancestry but because of the feeling of wildness there and the generations of hotsprings, bison, bears, wolves, and trees. There is definitely something to be said for feeling grounded.
ReplyDeleteI like your last paragraph Jake. I should, and eventually will BE here and contribute here, at least to a further extent than I am now. Also I totally do feel that fear of replacing my PLACE. You nailed it with that one. Sometimes I think I have an over-developed sense of loyalty. I have decided to give Seattle a shot, but I have also decided to take my time in doing so. I know that if I rush or push myself into anything I will end up hating it, so I'll be taking my sweet time. Keep taking care of my place while I'm gone. :)