In Madeleine L'engle's book "A Wind in the Door", much hinges upon a certain creature's willingness to move from its juvenile life of freedom, to its mature phase of being rooted and immobile. A child will live or die resulting from its decision. It resists, it wants its freedom, it wants to see everything, experience everything. But in the end, it is persuaded to go on, to become more through forgoing that freedom, and through its roots to bear fruit for the nourishment of others. That's what I've been called to, I think, to be still, to sink my roots deep and forgo a multitude of experience. Perhaps that isn't the call everyone experiences ( I'd be quite astonished if it was), but it seems to me that many people don't even recognize it as a possibility.
That's it, my "spirituality of locality". I haven't explained it entirely to my own satisfaction, and there are probably things that later I'll remember and wish I'd included, but good enough to be going on. I try to grow up by staying close to home.