witness – Alyssa Bittner-Gibbs

What the Water Knows

There are people whose ethos reach us through a sentence, from many miles away, long after they claimed it. Since this summer, Wendell Berry has been keeping me company. Others may leave a garden, a footpath, a stubborn patch of green that might so easily have become something else. In today’s world, we may struggle to remember that we inherit more than what has gone wrong. We also inherit what humans before us loved enough to keep. So with Berry in mind, I’m trying to think more about life’s quieter bequests. The places that still make room for us. The words that arrive at just the right time. The care we never witnessed, but whose consequences we are able to enjoy. What would it mean to recognise this inheritance while it is still alive, and leave something living in return?

Wonder at First Sight

Perhaps the strangest thing about making a home somewhere is how quickly the extraordinary becomes ordinary. The landscape fades into the commute. People become their roles. Institutions become explanations for themselves. Then someone arrives with an unfamiliar accent, an impertinent question, or delight in something you had stopped noticing—and the world briefly returns in full colour. Such encounters aren’t always comfortable. They may restore something we love; they may change what we can bear to overlook. But I have never wanted belonging purchased at the price of seeing less.

The Climb

On my forty-sixth birthday, I see that human life cannot be understood only from where the person is standing now. During the climb, I know the grain of the rock, the doubtful foothold, the salt in my eyes. Then something catches me. I lean back, and the years open into a landscape. Earlier selves, worlds I have come to carry, a life I once lacked the imagination to picture: each changes what the others mean. Where their views meet, I begin to recognise the life that could only be mine. Each of us carries a world assembled in an unrepeatable way, still widening, still coming into view.

Customs to Declare

Where I grew up, toughness included turning up when someone needed a hand. In the Nordics, I found beauty in making that care a public promise. I want a society that offers both without making obedience the price of belonging. Perhaps steel, smoke and social democracy have more to offer one another than either of my homes suspects.

The List

The autumn equinox arrives with a checklist. Naturally, I have supporting documentation. Beauty, fierceness, care, reckoning: a little personal accounting as the season turns. Loving balance and possessing it are, apparently, separate boxes. And the woman who thinks so much about what makes a life worth living would quite like to live some of it, thank you.

witnessA collection of 13 posts