On Placeness

Words: Hank

Photography: Chad Hoffman

The concept of “placeness” is sort of abstract, and something I think about a lot. Humans, because of our personhood, don’t exist in places the way regular things do. Our consciousness links us to our environment in a way that an object simply cannot be linked. We don’t just exist in places, we inhabit them.

We inhabit lots of places in our lives, and each can give us different feelings, like home vs. the airport. The familiarity we feel with certain places comes from a feeling of knowing, and I would argue: feeling known in return.

You may have been out wandering with somebody who told you “I know these woods.” What you probably heard was “I won’t get us lost.” But what they said is more interesting. What does it really mean to know a place? To know a place is not the same as knowing a fact, or knowing a person. It’s somewhere in between, and I think it’s probably closer to knowing a person. To know a place requires relationship.

In knowing a person, each recognizes the other’s personhood, and understand truths about them: their habits, motivations, and feelings. Through expression and recognition, we enter into relationship. So what does that mean for knowing a place? Do they express themselves to us? Can they recognize our personhood?

I think so.

When a place expresses themself, sometimes it can be catastrophic, like when wildfire razes our homes. Other times it can be miraculous, like when the aurora lights up the tundra. Sometimes it can be both, like when a white tail deer is given in harvest to a hunter. The devastation and joy we can feel when a place expresses themself to us is the imprint of placeness.

But how can a place know us, in return? Without getting into whether a place can have consciousness or agency, just think about that old familiar feeling. The one you get when the sun warms your neck on a cool spring day, when the creek is the perfect temperature, when that grilled trout tastes just right. When you feel completely nourished and whole. These are gifts from a place that knows what you need. that knows you.

I think this feeling of being known is often keenly felt, but rarely recognized explicitly for what it is. I think if we consciously enter into relationship with places, we can enrich our own lives on earth, especially in the wild. Outdoorsmen are uniquely positioned to experience these relationships because of the inherent intimacy of our interactions with nature. We pay attention to things that are veiled to people without knowledge of the natural world. We get to know, and be known.

Be still and listen to the voices that belong
To the streambanks and the trees and the open fields.
There are songs and sayings that belong to this place,
By which it speaks for itself and no other.
— Wendell Berry, from his collection Leavings: poems (2011) p. 91




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On the hunstman’s ethos