The first time I visited the family farms in Ghana, DadaK pointed out that the boundaries of each farm were defined by plants of a different colour to the surrounding vegetation. I can’t remember exactly what they were like, but I remember they had variegated leaves, something like this:
Plants may be used to define boundaries, but they can’t be contained by them.
It seems to be the nature of life, that it must burst through and across and around ….
Humans are sensitive about boundaries. We hedge ourselves about with them — emotional, metaphorical and of course physical.
When the boundaries we set (or imagine should exist) are transgressed, our feelings can range from grumpy to homicidal. You only have to look at the nightmare abuse of asylum seekers’ human rights by the Australian government, as well as recent events in Europe.
And yet, often, the boundaries are where the unexpected unfolds and beauty flowers.
I should know, I crossed racial boundaries long ago. That’s why this blog is called Border Crossings. When I set it up, I wrote:
‘A border crossing is both a place and an action. It’s a place where people meet and pass each other on the way to someplace different. The place could be new or familiar, alien, dangerous, welcoming … but always, however subtly, different.
The act of crossing borders can be easy, scary, exciting, bewildering. You can breeze through, or battle. Border crossings are sometimes the site of conflict, as each side tries to push its own frontiers further into new territory. But they also have great potential as a place of change, negotiation, and the start of new journeys.
People in cross-cultural / mixed ‘race’ relationships cross borders every day.’
And now, looking back on the 26 years since I met my son’s dad, I’d say: we not only cross borders, but we explore and extend the boundaries of what’s possible for human relationships, and human happiness.
See other responses to the WordPress photo challenge: Boundaries.