I recently read The Soul of Place: a Creative Writing Workbook by Linda Lappin, and it got me thinking about a concept I’ve never considered. Travel writers often talk about how certain places hold power for them. They recognize that places have a character or personality, and some places have characteristics that make them “power places.” Others talk about the “genius loci” which refers to the protective spirit of a place. Whatever you want to call it, I think it safe to assume that it’s easy for us to recognize whether or not a place “speaks” to us, but how often do we ask ourselves “why?”
The concept of “power places” or “soul places” has been written about by others, and this is my favorite explanation of it:
“Many times our power places are locations we love. They bring us a feeling of home even though we may have never actually lived there. These places are powerful because they hold space for us to relax and blossom into who we truly are.” ~Gigi Young, Moonbird
I love this concept. It resonates deep within me, as there have been places that we’ve visited where I felt transcended and others where, despite their beauty, I felt depleted. I thought I’d share my creative writing exercise with you, in case you want to ponder your own “power places.”
California redwoods near Trinidad
Where are my power places?
These are the places where I felt fully alive, empowered, completely at peace, and able to freely be myself. Simply put, I didn’t want to leave.
Faroe Islands
Trinidad, California
Salzburg, Austria & countryside
Dingle Peninsula, Ireland
Oregon Coast
San Juan Islands, Orcas Island
What do they have in common?
Once I start writing them down, a pattern begins to emerge. There are definite characteristics they all share.
With the exception of Austria, they are all coastal. And not just any kind of coastal, they are specifically rocky coastlines with cold water and rugged or remote landscapes. And while they don’t all have trees, they do have very green landscapes.
Again with the exception of Salzburg, they are all remote locations. I felt removed from the world at all of these. Even in Salzburg, I felt removed in the sense that we had stepped back in time.
They are remote but not wilderness. That’s key, because I don’t feel that same sense of safety when I’m deep in the backwoods.
The residents all seem to have a strong tie to the land and deep respect for the environment.
There is a strong sense of community; people know their neighbors.
The general pace of life is slow and unrushed but still productive. They have a good balance of work and play.
The people we met were always happy and friendly. While not as openly warm as we’re used to in Louisiana, we felt an openness to outsiders of different beliefs and customs. Even Faroe, which is the least diverse place we’ve ever been, felt genuinely welcoming. I must note, however, that I’m white and that may have made a difference. I don’t know how someone who looks different would be treated in places like Faroe Islands or Austria, but I hope it would be with the same warmth.
The majority of the residents also seem to live simple, minimalist lifestyles. Even on the Oregon coast, where you’ll see large oceanfront homes, they are built into the landscape in a way that pays tribute to the land. They aren’t ostentatious in any way.
They all have crisp sea or mountain air. No oppressive humidity, although it can get hot in some of these places.
With the exception of Austria, these places are often windy and foggy. I love the juxtaposition of storms and the calm of twilight, so it makes sense that places with muted light and temperamental weather would appeal to me.
None of them are flat. They all have some form of hills or mountains.
What are my non-power places?
While all of these are beautiful, these places didn’t leave me with the same sense of awe or completion. I have fond memories of them and took gorgeous photos, but the longer I stayed the more I felt depleted or anonymous. I was happy to visit, but I can’t see myself living there.
Sifnos, Greece was SUPER relaxing but it was also dry and lacked lush green foliage.
Any large city, where I feel crowded or surrounded by concrete, makes the list. There are cities I love to visit, like Boston or San Francisco, but I never want to stay for long.
I hate to even admit this out loud, but Arkansas, Oklahoma and Texas make this list. We visit these states because they’re close and offer good hiking, but my soul shrivels up quickly if we stay too long. Part of the reason is that I don’t feel like I fit in culturally, but it’s also a sense of being surrounded by land. I keep searching for the ocean and in Texas I feel overly exposed because of all that open space.
Again, I hate to admit this, but pretty much the entire US East Coast is a soul-sucker for me. With the exception of Maine, I’ve always felt crowded and rushed in the northeast coastal communities. Or I’ve been disappointed at the strips of over-developed condos or overly-pretentious beach communities. Maybe it’s just that the beaches are too flat. These are my personal projections, based on life experiences, so please don’t be offended if you love the East Coast. I can only be honest with myself, and who knows, maybe someday I’ll discover an east coast town that suits me.
Why does this even matter?
I teach a DIY Travel class where we talk about our travel personalities. I believe that great travel experiences come from knowing what makes you happy. Understanding on a deeper level what fills your soul with joy and inspiration and why is what sets a life-changing trip apart from a simple vacation. Like I say in the class, my time and money are limited, so I want to ensure that every trip I take is the most amazing experience possible. From this exercise, I’ve gleaned some very useful knowledge not just about my travel tastes but about myself. Places that set my soul afire are remote and temperamental, where I feel small and insignificant in a good way, where I should feel threatened by mother nature but instead feel sheltered. Hmmm…interesting correlation with my literary love interests. Mr. Rochester ring a bell? 😉
This post is either going to land me on the hate list of all of my peers, or it will totally resonate with them. Either way, I must unburden my feelings. I have kept my silence far too long.
WHAT IF BOOKS ARE BAD FOR US?
There. I said it. Now let me explain myself…
I have loved reading since the moment I realized those symbols on the page actually meant something. Actually, no — my love of reading probably began while I was still in my mother’s womb, hearing her read to me. Growing up, the most effective behavior modification used by my mother was to take my books away (taking the Barbie dolls away was a close second). In high school, I would fake sick just so I could stay home to finish a book. Because let’s be honest, I wasn’t going to learn anything that day if all my thoughts were absorbed by whether or not Darcy and Elizabeth would get together!
Any of this sounding familiar?
So why on earth would this “I can’t survive without books” librarian pose such a question? Let me compare it to my second weakness — FOOD.
We all know what we eat can affect our health. There’s much debate about the details, but we DO know that it’s important to eat a variety of foods and it’s important to choose foods with nutritional value. Filling our bodies with only junk isn’t a good thing. We also know over-eating is a bad thing. This is where my book correlation comes in…
I AM ADDICTED TO BOOKS! AND NOT JUST ANY BOOKS — JUNK BOOKS!
I LOVE reading romance novels. Stories of debonair dukes, plundering pirates, sexy shapeshifters, femme fatales…I can’t get enough! I can easily read a book per day and realize I didn’t eat anything or even acknowledge my husband’s presence. I’ll admit to even being guilty of ignoring phone calls from my mother when caught in the thrall of a good book.
I know. I am SO going to Hell. I need an intervention.
Luckily, I have a very supportive family who understand that sometimes I just need to escape into the world of books. As long as I remember to come up for air often enough & keep the household intact, then we’re ok. I’m also lucky to have people in my life who challenge my mind, which prompts me to read things that stimulate my brain & broaden my perspective. When I find myself in a conversation & I can’t think of anything interesting to say, that’s usually my cue that literary stagnation has begun to set in. That’s when I look up “Best Nonfiction Books of the Year” or “What Would Bill Gates Read” & download the audiobook or podcast.
So I guess my answer is: Yes, books CAN be bad. But they can also be good. It’s all about balance.
Balance in WHAT we read: titles that make us THINK, that TEACH us something new, that give us a different PERSPECTIVE
Balance in the TIME we spend reading vs living: I’d rather EXPERIENCE life rather than read about it
Balance in our EXPECTATIONS: acknowledge that what we love in fiction isn’t always what we want in reality (a pirate would make a terrible husband, after all).
Reading is one of those joys that we never out live. Books can provide excitement, comfort, empathy, enlightenment, escape — whatever we may need. While I may have a few setbacks every now & then, I believe I’ve found that balance & I hope you do to.
What’s that, babe? You need me to do laundry because you’re out of clean underwear? Hold on, just a few more chapters…
I had my regular dose of reality check this month. While hooked up to an IV feeding the magic drug that prevents me from deteriorating, I chatted with a fellow arthritis patient. Ms. S is 75, has had RA since she was 35, lives alone, mows her own 2-acre lot and takes care of her house. She does all of this, despite the fact that her hands are bent beyond recognition and she is quite obviously in pain on a daily basis. I never heard her complain once during our morning infusion, even after the nurse had to stick her three times.
I’m sure throughout our lives we have all met people like this. People who have had it rough and yet never seem to whine or play the victim. People who never take for granted their independence, and in fact fight tooth and nail to keep it. When I asked Miss S why she never remarried after losing her husband to cancer, she said “Why on Earth would I do that? What man could possibly keep up with me?”
I admire Ms. S and all the others who share that same determination. The disease does not define her. It is part of her daily life but it is not part of her daily thoughts or focus. This is one of the reasons that I rarely write about having rheumatoid arthritis. I realized early on with the diagnosis that I could easily fall into a victim mentality if I let myself focus on being sick. I could convince myself that I was unique, that I had special needs, that I could make excuses. But I was lucky, because during my infusions I have met many people like Ms. S who remind me of the type of person I want to be.
