Of Being Rooted

All to often I am told that my homely ways are strange. There are many lands to travel to upon this gorgeous Earth. Yet I am content, perhaps too content to just be here in my land. It is not my land because I own it; I should say I have never owned any land. However being in this place at the foot of the Uncanoonuc Mountains, and in the branches of the mighty Merrimack, I feel as though it were my land. Over twenty years I have tread upon its rich soil, smelling the decay of colorful foliage, feeling the mud of the wet season, cool from melted snow, and danced upon the white glades in barren winter. I know the trees, and some of their names, the birds and their songs, the bugs and their jobs, the beasts and their wanderings. Were this land to perish I feel part of myself would as well, if not entirely.

Who knows their land though? I should say I only know little. The food I eat comes from many different and strange lands. What relation have I to the wilds near me? I forbid myself to treat it as though it were a postcard, a pretty picture, a fancy of beauty and nothing more. My childhood has taught me more than that. Yet I long to connect more, while noticing those around me connecting less. Who has forgotten the importance of the land? Do we not eat of its fruits, rest in its shade, marvel at its warmth, shiver in its cold? It is not that man can not ignore nature, it is that man can not afford to ignore nature. When people do not like an area they simply move, I feel that is foolish. When you are rooted you love your land, when you love your land you own it, when you own the land you take care of it, and those who are stewards of the land would protect it. So it goes without saying that the reason nature is attacked is because no one owns the land, no one loves it or cares for it. Then it is a slab of resources, ripe for the taking without regard for its health.

Perhaps the analogy of the lover matches this better. Two people living side by side, learn to be with one another. The man and his neighbor woman live in harmony and trust. It is in this that love is born, not by some compatibility, taste, or instantaneous mechanism. Yet the man who sees a beautiful woman from afar, and travels there, uses her for his own fleshy needs, and leaves, we call him a bad man and the woman a prostitute. If the man lived with the woman in close proximity, he could not use her, they live with one another, and it would cause discord in his life.

So it is with land, those that live with it treat it better, because it is they that must be in harmony with it. Yet we still see the allure of other lands, be it for climate, resources, or other personal gain. If mankind fulfills such desires the land that is used becomes nothing more than a whore for man's taking.

I have not traveled to many lands, nor enjoyed it when I have traveled for my small part. I love the land I live on, I treat her well, and wish I could do better for her. The eastern slopes of the Uncanoonucs are close to my heart, and I trust they always will be.