This past weekend I went on a trip to New Haven, Conneticut. Driving there reminded me of a feeling I always end up having when I am in the US: The sense that I am surrounded. When I am at home here in Toronto I have a low level feeling that there is a seething, noisy mass of humanity south of me but that north of me is a silent, primal place. There is a sense that I am parked on the edge of the world and that I could escape the world of people and concrete if I want to.
When I am south of the border I lose that feeling. Instead I have a constant sense that everywhere, everyway, are humans. It isn't sensible, really, because when New Haven is on the ocean - I was only a couple of kilometers from a space that is really empty of humans. Somehow that doesn't feel the same though. There is something powerful about land that is unoccupied that ocean simply does not replicate.
It must be true that other people from Thunder Bay, where I grew up, have that same sense but more finely honed. They must have the feeling when they come to Toronto that they are surrounded, pinned in, unable to escape the crush, and when they go home to Thunder Bay they are on the edge of the human world, not so far from wilderness.
I wonder if this is a thing that is widespread or not. Do we all develop a sense of how many people we are used to, how full our world is, and get all discombobulated when we are in a place that doesn't have that same feel?
For me it is all about north, somehow. That I am used to north being empty and open, and south being full of noise and pressure. I doubt it would feel the same if I were in some other part of the world where empty space was in another direction from me.
Whenever I'm somewhere urban without any trees, such as north of the 401 in suburbs, I feel raw and exposed. I'm used to giant trees among the homes. As they fall in my neighbourhood and aren't replaced, I am getting increasingly uncomfortable!
ReplyDelete