Anchors

How do we know where we are? Increasingly the answer is through the dot on a screen—the little man on a Google map, the arrow on a dashboard GPS. We know we are somewhere in the matrix of blue, greens, yellows and reds that make up the map, but that doesn’t tell us that we are here, in this particular place, with a particular history and particular ecology. Instead of abstract dots I have been working lately to find anchors—things I can hold onto that keep me grounded in each here.

What is your unique context for living? (montage: J Fowler)

So much of our commercial culture is based in anonymity. Go to a conference in a convention center in any major city and the experience will be mostly the same until you get out to the side streets—big glass buildings, bridges from a hotel to the exhibit halls. The same with highway exits and suburban commercial districts—anywhere abounds. So how do we find anchors that remind us where we are?

We should start by seeking the places away from anonymity, the particulars of each place. We should eat chili in Cincinnati, BBQ in N.C., and deep dish in Chicago. We should ask the locals about the best places. We should also listen and listen carefully, in an age of neutral accents they still come through if you pay attention. Mostly, we should simply pay attention. I have long been a birdwatcher and birds are always anchors for me because they vary so much by habitat and region. Knowing the difference between one bird and another and paying attention to those differences makes for an easy anchor to particularity.

What are the anchors in your own life? How do you know where you are?

http://barefootmeg.multiply.com barefootmeg

My house is probably my greatest anchor to place. In the past three houses I've lived in, I've known quite a bit about the people that came before me. That gave me a sense of how the house was used in the past and what it's meant to others. Then I further anchor myself with the house by customizing the insides (paint, furniture, decorations, etc.) and digging in on the outside (gardening, particularly planting new things and maintaining what was already there).

The next circle out involves connecting to my neighborhood. I love that our neighborhood elementary school is only 4 blocks away. As I'd walk to school with the kids we'd often see a person or two we knew along the way, then gradually more and more people would join us in our walk until we'd finally arrive at the school in the midst of a herd of people, of neighbors. The kids would run into the building and the parents often stand around and chat for quite awhile before each going our own way. My kids are almost done at the elementary and more often go without me these days, so I really miss that feeling of “coming together” among our neighbors.

And then there's the wider steps of shopping within walking distance. Dining out in restaurants we can bike or walk to, etc. Walking and biking, I find, help to build a sense of place in a more intimate way than driving does. And learning the history of our neighborhood and city mean that as I walk I have not only spacial connections that I'm making, but connections through time as well.
http://barefootmeg.multiply.com barefootmeg

My house is probably my greatest anchor to place. In the past three houses I've lived in, I've known quite a bit about the people that came before me. That gave me a sense of how the house was used in the past and what it's meant to others. Then I further anchor myself with the house by customizing the insides (paint, furniture, decorations, etc.) and digging in on the outside (gardening, particularly planting new things and maintaining what was already there).

The next circle out involves connecting to my neighborhood. I love that our neighborhood elementary school is only 4 blocks away. As I'd walk to school with the kids we'd often see a person or two we knew along the way, then gradually more and more people would join us in our walk until we'd finally arrive at the school in the midst of a herd of people, of neighbors. The kids would run into the building and the parents often stand around and chat for quite awhile before each going our own way. My kids are almost done at the elementary and more often go without me these days, so I really miss that feeling of “coming together” among our neighbors.

And then there's the wider steps of shopping within walking distance. Dining out in restaurants we can bike or walk to, etc. Walking and biking, I find, help to build a sense of place in a more intimate way than driving does. And learning the history of our neighborhood and city mean that as I walk I have not only spacial connections that I'm making, but connections through time as well.

Anchors

Ragan Sutterfield

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