Blake Gordon

I ended up wandering around the Ninth Ward. I had to go.

What really overwhelmed me about the area were two things. One, as I was wandering through this space, I would see others wandering via car or even tour bus. They were clearly not from the area and were tourists. Generally, we have a resentful attitude toward tourism, though we almost all participate in it and it sustains a lot of the places we value. But beyond the cliche tourist act was a sense that the people here, including myself, were genuinely curious and concerned about this area - an area that was generally labeled as neglected after Katrina. So what struck me about the phenomena was what I sensed to be a genuine concern about the people and place here.

The other thing was nature. In an area I anticipated to be heavy with the painful memories of loss and destruction, I encountered a pastoral land. A sinking fall sun, clear blue skies, a gentle breeze, temperatures in the upper 60s, grass whispering in the wind, birds speaking to one another were the environmental conditions in which I walked around this place for several hours in the afternoon. The land had reclaimed itself in many places, passing no judgment on the place. I was in the country more than anywhere else. I felt completely at ease. It was a serene place.

Sure, there are issues at hand, there is work to be done, and the struggles are not my own, but I sensed the larger apolitical movements of our world in which we are part of and which will continue regardless of our actions. This world we're in can release oppressive and destructive forces. But on a fall afternoon like today, one cannot help but notice the relaxing exhale of its rhythms amidst a vast serene indifference.