View from one of the streets during an evening walk in MY neighbourhood.
As early risers the tuis are only slightly more Trappist than the blackbirds who take up duties pretty much immediately after the tuis leave off. The blackbirds really appreciate the efforts Clemency has been putting into the garden since her retirement, what with the recent explosion in the worm population and everything, and they too have some unresolved ownership issues concerning our back yard. And then there's the possums. They have a sort of chattery call as they discuss the grazing rights to the roses, generally around 1 A.M. .
I got a kindly email from the Anglican Church Pension Board yesterday. We have, Yippee!, only one more payment to make on the mortgage and then we will own our place, all 1250 square metres of it, even if we have only the vaguest of notions of where our Southern boundary actually lies.
So here we have all these overlapping ownerships: us, the tuis, the blackbirds and possums, and who knows? no doubt the bellbirds and sparrows and the local cats and goodness knows what else besides, all fiercely defended and policed. All of these ownerships are pretty much invisible and irrelevant to all the others, but are recognised and subscribed to by those whose DNA makes them relevant. All of these ownerships are part of the holders' sense of self and place. And all are equally illusory. Don't make any mistake, if you try and cash in on the fictitious nature of my soon to be acquired freehold by moving in, I will employ the services of all the others who subscribe to this particular shared fiction to make sure you are in trouble. But spiritually I am in trouble myself if I believe that it has any lasting veracity or worth, or if I let it define who or what I am.