Illa placet tellus in qua res parva beatum me facit.
(Martial, 10.96.5-6)

That land is pleasing in which a small piece of land makes me happy.

(pron = IHL-lah PLAH-ket TAIL-loos in kwah rays PAHR-wah bay-AH-toom may
FAH-kit)

Comment: Roman poets often make the "land" an object of their poetry in direct
or indirect means. For Horace, it was the leisure of the country, under a
tree, next to the stream with a glass of wine that became almost synonymous
with his poetry. For Ovid the earth becomes the context for all of the changes
that he describes in the Metamorphoses as well as the juncture of time and place
in the Fasti. For Vergil, New Troy, or Rome itself becomes the raison d'etre
for the hero, Aeneas, and his journeys.

Martial describes that spot on the earth that makes him happy. There is still a
spot in my childhhood memory, a place in the woods, at the foot of a huge pine
tree, a spot on top of a large rock mostly buried in the earth that provided a
place for me to sit and watch the small stream that flowed nearby. I used to
go there when I was 10 and 11 and 12 and 13. The spot no longer physically
exists, now transformed by progress into a subdivision of relatively ugly
houses and scraped earth. But, in an instant, I can be there in my body's
memory.

I suspect that all human beings are attached to a piece of earth somewhere, an
original piece of earth where they were born. And I also find in my own
experience that there are many other pieces of earth that transform us if we
allow.

At the school where I work, I park at the bottom of a hill, and each morning, at
dawn, I walk up that hill to the school building. It has become a wonderful
walk. Day light is just birthing. Lately, trees are blooming. There is a
stream of humanity walking up that hill, and there are small gestures of
greeting and welcome. Construction workers are arriving to work on our new
building. Sometimes stars still twinkle; or the moon shines; or the sunrise
makes for a color show. I look forward to that hill each morning. It's my
last wake up call for the day. What pieces of earth do we touch today--which
ones touch us?

Bob Patrick
(Used with permission)
Latin Proverb of the Day is now available on the web.


[in southern Alberta, there's a place called Head-Smashed-In, which was a cliff where those who came before us used to drive the buffalo prior to processing. There's a museum there now, but before there was such, we went on a field trip there when I took a class in North American Archaeology ... the site is also dotted with 'Vision Quest' sites. I sat in one of these, which was 'aimed' at a particular mountain in the distance. But as one sat there and saw the mountain in the distance and the prairie that otherwise surrounded you, you became aware of how 'insignificant' you were in the grand scheme of things. I've often thought that what most middle-schoolers need is a day or two sitting all alone in that site down at Head-Smashed-In ... might do their hyperinflated sense of self-esteem some good. -- dm]