I had a drink the other night with two women who were from Germany and Hungary but barely a trace of their respective countries could be seen.
The German had spent 2 years in Ireland and wore a brashness and sparkling vitality of the people there. Laughing easily, finding personality in what others would find oblique.
The Hungarian had spent two years in Japan and yearned to go back. On finding a Japanese lover she now had the opportunity and glowed the thought of returning to Japan with the man she had fallen in love with. Meanwhile the German dreamed of her little Irish cottage. It’s likely it will happen.
What is it that ties someone to a land? Or makes them say ‘I am…’?
The remarkable trait in these two women was that they looked and behaved like the people of their adopted countries. The Hungarian had Japanese eyes and spoke with deep civility about social systems, how they evolve and how Westerners can’t understand what it is like to be Japanese. The German wore green and an effervescent skirt and tilted her head towards you to capture the last drops of what you were saying. It was all adding to the story.
What is a land?
I have recently been to New Zealand and experienced a deep culture there. Felt wonderfully connected to that patch of soil. When I returned I have been told that my face has changed shape.
I don’t believe in being English though that is undoubtedly where I am from, but the fragrances of all lands where I have been speak through me and all people the same way.
DNA is not something that only mutates only at the generational divide but is consistently flavored by the being to which it gives. It is a storehouse of experience and this could be from past lives or this one. Does the structure of the double-helix remind you of Yin and Yang in a dance?
It draws up and pulls down and gives us life and whatever patch it’s drawing up on influences the body and the mind, the speech and texture of living.
So this land is my land – the one that I am walking on. The people that I meet here are its people here and we take its gems, in different variagations absorbed, and mix them with other people so that Mother Earth, in this way, can have a conversation with herself.
She likes to communicate. The woman with an Irish accent born in Germany and the woman born in Hungary but with a tendency for stoical reflection have their experiences shining from their very cells.
~ o ~
The Mother speaks to herselves as we sip the confines of a Tuesday afternoon in Amsterdam. Summer’s dawning and the comfort of the season’s turn that it will be this way for the next four months.
Even in Northern Europe.