Tuesday, 17 September 2013

There's No Place Like Home

Glen Affric
Calgary Bay, Mull
I've been wondering what it is about a place that attracts me, or makes me feel I could be at home there.  One of my favourite walks on Rum is the old pony path to Bloodstone Hill - the track passes under the Mordor cliffs of Orval and winds around the top of Glen Guirdil and up to Bloodstone, where Canna is laid out like a toy island and the Outer Hebridies are  strung out in an ever decreasing series of bumps on the horizon.  There's one section of the path I particularly love for no reason I can pinpoint; it slopes down to a river crossing below a steep waterfall, then wends up and around a bend.  There's just something lovely about it, something familiar and comforting.
Harris Bay, Rum
I recently had a friend visiting who talked about past life memories unconsciously drawing us back to places we've inhabited before, either because we felt safe there or because something happened that we need to revisit.

 I'm not sure I have much time for past-life theories, but wonder if there's something within the sub-conscious or unconscious mind that recognises something in the lie of the land, the curve of a bay or a river bend.

Sango Sands, Durness
Driving north on the A9 where the road begins to descend toward Inverness, with a view of the bridge and the Black Isle beyond, the moray firth stretching out below, always felt like coming home.  It was one of the reasons I eventually decided to stop moving away from Inverness and to just setlle there (before I moved away again, further west).  There are other places that feel like home, though; some I only passed through once and noticed the gravity-tug of wanting to stay.  Some I return to again and again - yet I don't live in any of them.

Part of me thinks that if I could just find the perfect place, the place I can call Home, then I'll be happy.
Anywhere with a view of Suilven

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