I’ve been thinking a lot lately about sense of place and belonging. How many of us feel disconnected or displaced from our own landscapes—perhaps because of the busyness of life, the distractions of our phones, and the placeless-ness that social media cultivates. All the things that may overshadow our sense of belonging—of feeling grounded and rooted, right where we are.
I believe a remedy to this disconnectedness is getting in touch with the spirit of place in the familiar landscape we inhabit each day. By reconnecting with spirit of place, we find comfort. We deepen belonging.
Spirit of place has been defined as “unique, distinctive and cherished aspects of a place.” (Wikipedia) The Latin term for spirit of place is Genius loci and was often represented by a small creature—a guardian animal or supernatural being (think fairies and elves).
For me, spirit of place is most embodied by the flora and fauna that make up my particular ecosystem. And the “guardian animal” that stands out most when I think about my place is the Carolina Wren.
This spirited bird offers me companionship, and I have an intimate knowledge of its rhythms through the seasons. The wrens forage in the leaf litter in the fall and sleep in the roost houses we hung on our deck. In the summertime, the fledglings practice singing in our azaleas. They are messengers—alerting us and other animals when something is amiss. Even our house rabbit, Clover, becomes more vigilant when she hears their raspy hiss-hiss-hiss alarm call.
And when I’m not at home and happen to hear the familiar sounds of the Carolina Wren, I feel as if I’ve been given a gift. I am heartened. I am connected back to my place. This bird is a thread that weaves me into my landscape, whether I’m home or far away.
Spirit of place can also be a shared sense, reinforcing family or community identity and interconnectedness. The wrens are part of my sons’s day-to-day life as well.
We’ve made a ritual of watching them from the window as they fly into their roosts, right on cue at sunset.
When he was a toddler he loved sticks, especially the heavy ones. One autumn he created a large stick pile in the woods behind our house—we lovingly named this structure Wren Cottage. (Personal place names also foster one’s sense of belonging, but that’s for another time.) This “cottage” has endured through the years, and the wrens forage, sing, and rest in this place of belonging.
You’ve likely noticed that the Carolina Wren (or at least my primitive sketch of it) is the logo for Soulful Seasons. In the most practical sense a logo is a symbol. Symbols can help us make meaning of the world around us and express what we cherish. They do not reduce or diminish, but expand and enhance. This little bird is a poignant symbol for my spirit of place. A feathered song. A winged guardian.
an invitation
Autumn is a beautiful time to get in touch with the spirit of your landscape.
What embodies spirit of place for you?
Reflect on what you feel particularly connected to in your place. What natural attachment do you have that makes home feel like home?
It may be a bird, or perhaps it’s a perennial flower that you watch through the seasons, or a deciduous tree in your front yard, or a little creek that meanders through your neighborhood.
Or perhaps it’s something atmospheric like the way the fog shrouds the morning. Or the rhythm of rain pitter-pattering on your roof. Or the way the full moon illuminates your bedroom window.
Maybe it’s a geological element such as a mossy rock that’s been grounding your place years and years before you called it home.
And if you don’t feel a sense of attachment or belonging where you happen to be right now, think about how attuning to spirit of place may help cultivate that for you. Spend time there just observing, offering your presence. As a dear family member says, “See what you can see.”
Once you’ve thought about spirit of place where you live, you may feel called to find expression for it—such as creating an image, taking a photo, writing a poem, or sharing a story about this special connection.
Most importantly, may we all remember that we, too, are part of spirit of place.
“We are wild creatures still, at heart, and if we listen to our hearts we will remember how to listen to the song of the fierce-beaked, wild-winged little wren who, hopping from tree to stump, shows us the way home.”
~ Sharon Blackie
