Meaningscapes

We finish off the week with a debut STSC post from our new friend

M. E. Rothwell

. As soon as I first caught wind of his call to arms (which also happens to be the opening line of todays offering) I knew we had snagged ourselves another winner.

If we're not marvelling at the beauty of this world, then we're not paying attention.

What a perfect thought to carry with us into the weekend. That sentiment is a compass that will keep the earnest traveller on the right path. Have a great weekend!

Enjoy.

TJB.

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A Phrenological Head — O.S. Fowler (c. 1840)

If we're not marvelling at the beauty of this world, then we're not paying attention.

Imagine, if you will, taking a walk in two places as opposite as Manhattan and the Kalahari. Picture yourself contemplating that most pressing of questions: 'What should I be doing with my life?' I'd wager good money that your ruminations would differ wildly depending on which dust your feet were kicking up.

New York comes preloaded with certain ideas, doesn't it? The centuries of immigrants, drawn across an entire ocean by a hope, a dream. In many ways New York represents the pursuit of prosperity in city form. Imagine the Dutch, the English, the Irish, the Jews, the Russians, the Italians, Japanese, Vietnamese, Mexicans, Indians, Afghans, Iraqis — literally representatives of any and every people on Earth have come to New York — giving up their home, perhaps their family, betting their entire lives on this hope. That's what New York is, a hope for a better life, and has been since 1624.

While most immigrants no longer enter the United States of America via New York harbour, passing the Statue of Liberty and the great freedom she represents, that sense remains. How could one walk her streets, busy with people doing, moving, shaking — thick with that air of optimism, the rapacious drive to get ahead, to win — how could one not be infected by that spirit?

Now consider the African bush, so long walked by our ancestors. Our attachment to the savannah is much more ancient, far deeper than history itself. Unlike New York, this setting comes with no sense of material prosperity. One wouldn't need it. Our forebears had everything already. The concept of progress wasn't required. A simpler life for sure, perhaps shorter, but perhaps one filled with more meaning, more purpose.

You might think, but none of this is real. That's not the real New York. That's not the real Kalahari. The Sān Bushmen do not go about their nomadic existence, as they have for tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of years, with thoughts of prehistory and the 'Rousseauian Man' in mind. The average New Yorker is not walking to work thinking of the generations of dreamers before them.

You might think I'm just transplanting ideas and history onto otherwise apathetic settings. That the world is indifferent to our imaginings and any sense of meaning foisted upon it. One place is no different to any other place, and any thoughts pertaining to such is just pure projection. And you'd be right, in one sense, in the purely rationalistic, material sense.

But just because something can't be measured, doesn't mean it isn't real. Our conceptions of New York, of the Kalahari, of anywhere — these come loaded with a romantic vision blanketed on top of the physical. At the same time, that's true of anything. All of life is just projected meanings.

This is why travel is always considered to be such a significant part of a person's identity, should they have had the means and opportunity to do so. Places leave an imprint on who we are, on how we think. This fact is inescapable. We would not be the same people without those places. That's why we cling to these markers — these places we’ve been to, lived in, escaped from — we need them to make sense of who we are.

With a change of setting comes a change of context. Our priorities change. We find ourselves traversing not just physical landscapes, but meaningscapes — topographies of ideas, histories, and emotions that colour our perceptions and shape our thoughts.

Travel is not so much about finding oneself, as the old cliché goes, but about finding meaning in the experiences of roaming these different meaningscapes. Each place we visit, each culture we immerse ourselves in, adds a new layer to our understanding of the world and ourselves.

The bustling streets of Manhattan might awaken our ambition, push us to dream bigger, to strive for success as defined by the capitalist ethos. The vast expanse of the Kalahari, on the other hand, might strip away our materialistic concerns, reconnecting us with a more primal sense of existence, where survival and community take precedence over individual achievement.

These experiences accumulate, creating a rich, swirling milieu of perspectives that inform our overall worldview. They challenge our preconceptions, broaden our understanding, and ultimately shape who we are.

So the next time you find yourself in a new place, pay attention. Notice how the landscape — be it natural or man-made — affects your thoughts, your mood, your priorities. Recognise that you're not just moving through physical space, but through layers of meaning that have the power to transform you.

For in the end, we are not just observers of the world's beauty and complexity — we are active participants, constantly being shaped by the places we inhabit and traverse. Our identities are inextricably linked to the meaningscapes we navigate, each leaving its mark on our souls.

And isn't that a marvel worth paying attention to?

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