The Body Responsive

My body responds to place. All bodies do. As I travel, I watch the gradual evolution of human form in environment. In Ecuador, I remember legs. Other people's calves were often at my eye level ascending Andean slopes. I remember being awe-struck by these powerfully formed, strong, wide, tight calves. The Andes would mandate such calves to propel humans up and over such mountains, repeatedly.

The calves were in the jungle too. The Amazon surprised me. It wasn't flat. It was more of an obstacle course. Distance measured as the crow flies is meaningless on the ground. The intricate web of plant and animal life creates its own topography. Water intersected land. Hills and valleys were rendered invisible by endless green. In the jungle I always had my eyes down. It wasn't that I was uninterested in the canopy or the dots of sky. It was a matter of self-preservation to monitor every impending step. There was always another root, possible lurking animal or insect, sinkhole, mud, stone, or pool of water. I watched feet march in single file. If my gaze lifted, it found strong calves pulling deeper into curtains of green.

Bodies were leaner in the Galapagos. There, I lived the life aquatic. My fingers and toes felt perpetually pruned. I was nervously aware of the earth's land to water ratio. Local bodies reflected the ever-present waves in fluid corporeal lines. Bodies made to slide to further depths, to rush through current. Bodies are carved responsively.

When I hear an accent for awhile, unintentionally, I adopt it. It's a bit embarrassing, because I know it can come across as affected. I don't know why I do this nor how it started. My body does it too. If I live somewhere long enough my body shifts to the place. My features. My face! Obviously, my skin tone might grow steadily more pale or conversely more tan, my hair may reflect sun highlights or a dimness, but it's more than that, it's my features. I spent a month in Zambia and I looked different on my return. As I approached my third month in Argentina my facial features became more angular. My diet was different, and my weight reflected this shift, and certainly that had something to do with pronounced cheek bones. But I feel it goes deeper, it's some response to place.

In Cuba my cheeks softened. I didn't gain weight, I did gain sun, I ate food available to me in Cuba.

My skin is still stained with equatorial sun. It's so sad to know that will fade away. I'll be recast in my body as it lives here, in New Jersey. There's nothing wrong with that but I do gain a fondness for each place's imprint. Returning from Guatemala my skin was so dry. I was tan & thirsty. I drank plenty of water while away but some quality was different. I remember watching scorched grass climbing volcanoes over Lake Atitlan. My body felt harvest-ready, at the end of a season.

I've been learning about the dynamism of plants and soil. Plants have remarkable capabilities. Certain plants, if diseased, can release chemicals to draw towards them medicinal insects or animals. Other plants can draw predators to problematic insects. Plants can create environments to entice beneficial species into their fold. Whole micro-climates can live and breathe within the periphery of a fir. Space photos show the Amazon breathe.

Land and plants are dynamic. They shift, shape, respond, and create their environments. They create me. Continually. After so many years of believing the natural world to be inert, and humans to be in control and manipulation of the natural world, I'm rethinking. Humans certainly interfere in profound and horrifically dangerous ways. But I find human power to be increasingly fallible. I don't know how much we, as humans, watch our environments manipulate and control us. I'm watching my appearance shift in response to place. That's surface level.

Close my eyes. Grateful. Grateful to be held by earth. Gaze inward. Release. Steadily, stumbling, releasing control. Releasing the illusion of control. Watching.