Another landscape paradigm to explore is that of the path. Usually, we plainly think of a path as something that helps us to get from here to there. Sometimes, circumstances can hide the paths, and the signs disappear in the landscape.
Or the path disappears, because it really does not matter where you walk.
In other cases, the ever changing surroundings make it necessary to find a new path each time.
Often, the path is obvious, but there arise doubts about where it leads.
And finally, Freudian stairs can lead to hidden desires of the mind.
One of my manic disorders forces me to see faces in all kinds of rock formations.
The varied geological nature of Corsica, together with heavy erosion due to wind and water, provides ample material.
Sometimes, sunlight helps, too.
I am sure that today, after more than 20 years, these rocks are better preserved than the negatives I had to deal with. Besides the usual dust and scratches, some of them have deteriorated beyond help. I have stored all of them in proper sleeves and under dry conditions. Still, I noticed large speckled areas on some of them that clearly were not present 20 years ago.
How does the landscape we live in influence our concept of the beyond? For instance, if our daily view consists of a seemingly endless chain of mountain ridges, do we expect that these mountains will continue indefinitely? Or is there a last one, after which the earth just falls off?
Islanders are obviously in a special situation. The island Corsica is even more special, because besides the unlimited view into the mediterranean see, it also offers serious mountains that help obstructing the view.
I visited Corsica in the summer 1992 for two weeks. This was a difficult year of changes and decisions. In retrospect, meditating about the limits imposed by landscapes provides adequate means to examine one’s own limitations.