We are archipelagos
Close enough to kiss
This is a love story.
We are clusters, collections, connections, constellations. We dwell in rivers, lakes, oceans, and seas. We are born from volcanoes erupting, land eroding, sediment piling, glaciers carving, or waters rising. We are linked by currents and tides, jetstreams and trade winds. We are archipelagos: chains of distinct islands, apart and yet a part. We have always been together.
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The Montessori method has a creative way to teach children about geography. It pairs each land and water form with its opposite. A lake is a body of water surrounded by land. An island is a body of land surrounded by water. Peninsula is paired with gulf, isthmus with strait, bay with cape. The opposite of an archipelago, my children have informed me, each in their turn, is a system of lakes. A system of lakes is a group of lakes near one another. An archipelago is a group of islands near one another. Minneapolis has a chain of lakes, five shining bodies of water nestled in the heart of the city. Four are connected by waterways, their lapping lake waves close enough to kiss. Every spring and summer (and fall and winter, we are hearty stock), the whole city comes out in droves to jog, stroll, wheel, paddle, bike, skate, walk, and wander the lakes together, links in the chain of humanity enjoying our common land, our common home.
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Right now we do not want to be chains; we want chains to bind our enemies. We do not want to be linked; we want to leap far from anyone who disagrees with us. There is common sense and careful prudence in this choice for many, the need for basic safety and protection. But when the dust settles, will we see each other as connected again? E pluribus unum was made the motto for this country, chosen after the land was stolen from the first people who were here. The white men who led the committee tasked with designing a seal and slogan for the new nation decided to make “out of many, one” its common call. But we could also say: out of one, many. Ex uno, multi. On the official seal that took many more years and many more committees to design, a bald eagle clutches arrows in one talon and an olive branch in the other. Now the wood of the arrows and the wood of the branches are splintering, crushed by power’s grip.