Well, the idea of north. A Californian’s idea, and that of a Californian growing up way closer to the equator than he’d have liked.
The North Star, the only star that doesn’t move in the sky;
Magnetic north, in its slow, ceaseless wanderings across the pole:
They each exert their pull.
Magnetic north, in its slow, ceaseless wanderings across the pole:
They each exert their pull.
When daydreaming before a map, my gaze will inevitably begin to drift upwards. North.
Of course the fact that North is so often at the top of a map is arbitrary. Most early maps, before the widespread use of the compass with its needle pointing ever north, placed East at the top.
I wonder, would the pole drawing my gaze be different on an inverted map?
I wonder, would the pole drawing my gaze be different on an inverted map?
The word North comes from an old High Germanic word meaning “left; below:” North is on your left when you watch the rising sun.
The earth itself is lop-sided, top-loaded: Most of the planet’s land mass is in the north of the Northern Hemisphere. To feel the sun on the right side of your face as it rises is to face the great boreal forests of Canada and Siberia, the taigas, the frozen oceans (sometimes, for now).
Here are some aspects of North that have shaped my ideal of it.