From "Solitude" by Alexander Pope (1668 - 1744):
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
I have this impulse within me, but then I'm also enough of a child of the Enlightenment to appreciate many values and experiences that cosmopolitanism presupposes or entails. Which only proves that I am one of the multitude of walking paradoxes who wander the face of the earth in search of contentment.
Of course, this is only a problem if the choice exists. Hundreds of millions of people are practically given one or the other extreme (permanent rootedness or a recipe for cultural nomadism) at birth.