A Sense of Place

I have been preoccupied by “place” over the past several weeks. My attitude about our sense of place is very subjective, but does have a common thread which involves security and acceptance. Our very primitive need to feel and be accepted is a direct correlation to security. I had a very solid idea of what I would write about this morning, but I ran into somebody I have known for years at the dog park this afternoon that initiated a shift in my perspective on the subject of the geography and psychology of place.

We jumped right into a serious and thoughtful conversation. I brought up the subject of sense of place knowing Paul happens to be from the United Kingdom. As a non-native resident of the United States he has a very different take on “a sense of place”. As a result of our conversation my perspective shifted. My initial thoughts involved my own experience about a sense of place. I have relocated many times throughout the course of my life, but it rarely felt disruptive. Every time I relocated I immediately sought out those things that solicited a feeling of comfort. Those included, first and foremost a comfortable nest preferably near an independent bookstore, music, great restaurants, cultural diversity and last but not least good and decent people. A list of things I took for granted. I learned over the years that the fact that I was born with white skin certainly didn’t hurt nor did the fact that I had a profession that compensated me well. These variables removed all of the obstacles which would interfere with my sense of feeling unsafe. The reality quickly set in that he and I had a very different experience with “relocation.”

I never really thought about the feeling of being displaced until I met my husband, Richard. When we first started dating he was on the Board of UNHCR.

( United Nations High Commision for Refugees). I was quickly introduced to the grim reality of being torn from a geographical place that involves so much more than just merely relocating by choice. My arrogant, or perhaps I should name it ignorance about a sense of place was changed by my exposure to those who have left their native place.

My conversation with Paul and my exposure to the refugee crisis, through Richard’s involvement with UNHCR led me to an understanding that my sense of place had never been challenged by complete isolation from those things which I seek comfort. I have always had family, friends, means and confidence. All of those provided me with my sense of security and comfort. I have never had the rug ripped out from underneath me, meaning I have never lost everything. So, my conversation this afternoon made me realize that I am not an expert on this topic. A constant knock on the door that reminds me that I always have much to learn. I must keep the door of humility open and never answer the knock on the door that returns me to that place of arrogance.