That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers.

I was in a dark theater watching a performance of “Over the River and Through the Woods.” It is a play by Joe De Pietro who scripts the poignant story of an immigrant Italian family in New York whose grandson Nick has made a decision to move away – far away – to Seattle for his work. The central conflict is the struggle between desiring a personal identity and life separate from family and the reality that our lives are entangled with theirs.

In my conversations with young people this is often the first issue that comes up. “How do I renegotiate my relationship with my parents? How can I encourage them to turn loose of me and me of them?” For the grandparents in the play their commitment to family is the source of their identity. There is no such thing as an identity outside of family. Time and again they use the phrase “tengo familia” (I have a family) to describe what it means to have and to be held by family. It’s the primary relationship in life and to take care of and be cared for by family is the basis of a life that is satisfying.

Yes, it is partly generational but it is more than that. It is the struggle many of us have between taking advantage of opportunities and still being anchored in relationships that constrain us. How much do we owe the people who love us? How much of us belongs to them? How much of ourselves are we willing to give up to belong to family?

A tree planted by a stream is just that. It is rooted and planted. It is committed to where it lives. For those in the stream, it is a place to stop and tie up for a time before going on but the tree remains. It does not go with those in the stream bound for other places. It is a welcome inn for travelers but not a destination.

As well, a whole ecology of relationships grows up in and around it.  Planted people know the responsibility of being a host for other life.  The common English Oak can support hundreds of different species, including 284 species of insect and 324 species of lichens living directly on the tree. These in turn provide food for numerous birds and small mammals. A tree is the center of a whole community of living things.

In his book, “The Road to Somewhere: The Populist Revolt and the Future of Politics” David Goodhart writes that society can be broken into two large groups: First, there are the Anywheres. Their identity and self-worth are not tied to a place, but to their achievements and position. They need not have a particular place to which they belong. They belong anywhere that values achievement, few constraints and loose attachments.

Second, there are the Somewheres. Their identity is shaped by a sense of place and belonging. They feel a deep attachment to their community and have a strong sense of where they are from. My mother always said to me when I went out the door, “Remember who you are, who you represent and where you come from.” My mother was a Somewhere. She was a tree planted by a stream and while she had never read or heard of Wendell Berry, she understood this sentiment I have shared so many times:

“And so I came to belong to this place. Being here satisfies me. I had laid my claim on the place and had made it answerable to my life. Of course you can’t do that and get away free. You can’t choose it seems without being chosen. For the place in return had laid its claim on me and had made my life answerable to it.”

I didn’t understand the value of belonging when I was younger. I was always ready to move on. Far from being a tree planted by the water I wanted to be in the stream. I shied away from the constraints of attachment and place. My bag was always packed and the adventure of the next experience was irresistible. Maybe it had something to do with sharing my father’s name but making a name for myself kept me pushing on towards elsewhere. I did not appreciate as I do now what it means to belong to a place or to have a place and people who lay their claim on me. While I don’t think I could have done it differently, I am grateful I have been given this opportunity – the opportunity to belong and to be satisfied in being here.

T.S. Eliot was right:

“We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.”