If someone had told us we were crossing from one continent to another, we wouldn’t have known what he was talking about. We were just following the Antlers, as we’d done for as long as I or anyone else could remember. And once we’d followed them this far to the east, they didn’t turn back, so neither did we.
From there, and over time – a lot of time – most of us migrated south. And as we did, some settled and others moved on. Over time those who’d moved on lost contact with those who’d settled, and in some cases even forgot about them. And as we drifted south, after some time we didn’t look much like we did when we’d been following the Antlers. If someone had told us we were once the same people, we wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.
This should be no surprise, because apparently the same thing happened on the other side of the world, though there it was people from the south following, whatever they were following, north. And over time they too didn’t look much like they did before they migrated north. In fact we’re now being told – and if true I find this fascinating! – that those of us who once followed the Antlers had migrated east over time from those who’d migrated north. So I guess that over time we all forget where we once came from, including the people – there must have been such people – who didn’t come from anywhere else but only thought they did.
So even if we all come from somewhere else, we all came originally from where we had always been. Interestingly, most of us seem to want to know where that place is. Why? Is it because if we knew where it is, we’d want to go back there? But surely if it was such a wonderful place, why would we have left in the first place?
The answer, or so we’re told, is that we didn’t leave so much as we were driven out. We were driven out by people who were being driven out by people who … and so on back to that very first place from which we were all driven out. But driven out by whom? Or should we ask by Whom? Or need we only ask by what?
There once was a land flowing with milk and honey, but then came sin, if you believe in such a thing. Or if you don’t, then a drought. Either way, we tell ourselves, we just need to find our way back. But maybe there never was such a place. Maybe we just need to find our way not back to it but, well, just to it. Maybe home isn’t the place we come from but rather the place we’re going.