Connections and Belonging

The tree is growing branches

The wind is whipping today, and it has a cold bite to it.  I remember that feeling from my growing-up winters back in the Mid-Atlantic.  I was so sure that sweaters and my raincoat would be enough to get me through a winter here; now I wonder.  Oh well, as long as I have my echarpe, my scarf snugly about my neck, I think I will be alright.

I read the paper after coming home from the market. I had originally planned to go to the library, but they don't open until 2 on Thursdays.  Eventually I will learn all the openings and closings.  As I read the articles, I realized that I actually knew some of these people, that I was connected somehow.  They are talking about my neighborhood and issues that may concern me.  Interesting that I feel connected here.  

The first was the article about the young man who was arrested for burglary last week.  His trial was yesterday and he was sentenced to 30 months in prison.  Let me tell you, they don't waste any time here.  A speedy trial obviously means something different in Carcassonne than it does in the United States.

The other article was about a group of tradespeople-butchers, hairdressers, masons--who are banding together to protest the high rate of taxation on their types of businesses. And "my" butcher is the ring-leader, it seems.  Go for it, Michel.  And if there is anything I can to to help his cause, I am going to do it.  All throughout the Bastide yesterday, I saw the posters in the shop windows.  Apparently these types of enterprises are taxed at 45%, while multinational corporations pay 15%.  Doesn't seem quite fair, does it?  

And the Miss and Mr. Carcassonne pageant is this weekend. Lots going on in this sleepy southern French city.  The Christmas tree continues to be built. I love it.  

 

All of this prompted a round of soul-searching about being connected, and belonging.  Are we really just big tribes?  The good thing is that your tribe will take you in, and give you a place to belong, which seems to be a basic human need.  It takes incredible inner will to walk outside the tribal norms.  The bad thing, of course about belonging to a tribe is that you are expected to obey its rules. 

I wonder if many Americans, with their wandering lifestyles, have issues with knowing where "home" is located.  As a transplant from the East Coast to the West Coast, I sometimes struggle with this.  But for now, for the moment,  in the moment, which is how I am trying to live, home is Carcassonne.