Thoughts From a Micro-place

It's amazing how much a spiritual place can rejuvenate the soul.

Today I visited and attended the Unitarian Universalist church here in Vancouver. It's a nice congregation, a bit bigger than the one in Reynoldsburg I use to go to, but the people are just as welcoming, which was a wonderful relief from all the xenophobia I've been experiencing elsewhere.

Being in the church and participating in the ceremonies really brought me back to a happy reality. One where people were so glad to have a new face in the crowd, and a new person to introduce themselves to. And the singing, and the service; it all brought a sense of camaraderie to the faith we all struggle with.

Finding myself renewed when I got back, I proceeded to clean and try to get my computer to work. I spent much of the afternoon with little effort, but because my morning was so great, I really had no reason to be upset.

While I was crawling around on the floor organizing the many crazy cable systems just strewn out about the case, I noticed the bottom of my desk, with its strange dimples on the bottom.

It got me thinking. What if there existed such a thing as a micro-place?

I think that there are such places in the "micro" form. Little areas which have the same categories as "place", and can easily be described using simplified versions of different " place " based ideas.

Take for under my desk for instance. It is a place which I never thought of being anywhere special, but when I was working on my computer, I caught myself thinking: "Huh. Never been here before."

A lot of people have micro-places at their desks or area where they work. Things must be in order and perfect in order to work. (Or not, but still, you can describe the desk using the same terms you may describe a city or neighborhood.)

I feel as though the mind can be a micro-place. You can be out of your mind, or in the right mindset. All these words describing a "place" and how you interact with that place.

And maybe that is what I got out of church last Sunday. A rebalancing of the micro-place we like to call the "mind".

No Place Is Perfect

Place is a funny word. It can mean a state of mind, a physical location, a region. A planet, a person, an emotion.

The sun is setting, and its amazing how much chillier it is getting in the building where I am. The warm radiant blanket begins to slip away under the horizon. It makes the mountains in the distance clearer though, as the particulates no longer have to reflect as much of the rays as they go beneath the land.

This is a place. A place full of rain, and green, one with snow capped mountains, and quirky settlements.

The places you visit in your lifetime are worth thousands of words. But not nearly enough to satisfy the urge to see more. There is something beautiful in every place. Something to be appreciated, sought out and acknowledged, even in the "worst" of cases.

A mountain top removal mine shows our amazing ability to manipulate our environment and technology to adapt. A natural preserve shows our respect for what exists, and our desire to keep some part of the world stable in the ever changing landscape. Deserts may look empty, but under all that dust and shrub lie an entire ecosystem of plants, animals and microbes. Yet the very basis of forests rest upon the solid yet ever changing rock, only a recollection of ages past long ago.

There are infinite places. Geography dictates that something is a part of something else, until you get to the elementary particles and the outer limits of the observable universe. Yet even those are made of "things", even if it is only colorful descriptors and the hypothetical unknowns.

Yet, I always long for the base. For those rolling hills of the heartland, ripe with crops and a sky horizon so great that it beckons you onward. That indescribable patchwork of farms, forests, and houses. The iconic Americana picture. Flags lining a street of a small town with no stoplights. Kids playing out and about in the yards, as the tractors roll through digging the fertile earth. There is no place like it.

Then there are the people you love in those places too. Some of them you get sick of being around, but you love them none the less. And some of your best friends, they hail from those mountains and fields as well. And you can't get it out of your mind the time you went back for Christmas, and how that made you realize how much you missed the place where you grew up, and the place where your loved ones resided.

How I miss that landscape so. The adventures, the craziness, the great times. It's amazing how strong this urge can be sometimes.