When you get right down to it, all we really need in life is a good map. A map to tell us how to navigate our way out of feeling lost, to righten the wrong turns, to proceed past the dangerous by-ways and around unexpected chains of events...
to guide us through the labyrinth of fate and chance and self-determination.
Husband and I love maps. Husband (unlike myself) is cartographically blessed with a mental map of the world engraved on his brain...an imprint he refers to frequently, easily, contextually, historically. He is the most geographically literate person I know, from the back roads of Oklahoma to the Bedouin trails of the Middle East.
Over the years we have been truly fortunate to have travelled a good (great) bit (we honeymooned for three weeks in Africa)...
largely to scratch the itch of Husband's insatiable wanderlust, a DNA trait inherited from his father...and passed on to his children (probably accounting for one of his son's residence in Delhi right now.)
We are not tremendous shoppers when we travel, but wherever we go, we do
try to come home with a map of where we have been...a souvenir of the place, a geographical memento and reference to the distance travelled and its relative remoteness, or closeness to home...in miles and habit. This practice has resulted in an unintended collection of 'art' that now hangs on our walls and with their inherent beauty, decorates our home.
Some are precious, most are not. Valuable only to us and the personal significance they hold for our family and our lives over the years. Whereas one is beautiful, many can be magical, and a dramatic (and educational) way to decorate a space and adorn a home.