Why I walk

"Not all those who wander are lost"

In fact, when I wander, it is a precious time - a fleeting time - where the world makes sense. A momentary awareness of being.

When I woke this Monday morning, the dark dog was at the door again. He’s been there often in this third edition. Fed richly by these extraordinary conditions. His shadow gnaws at your self belief, conviction, generosity, zest and purpose.

Implored out by the sunlight, and guided home by the moonlight. In the hours between - it could have been one, it may have been eight - the wonder of walking, of wandering, a refuge.

For this past year or two, it has not only been a pastime but a lifeline. In the many moments of uncertainty which have narrated this chapter - where next, what next, how next - it has been my one self-generated and unwavering ally.

There is something deep within our make-up - built into our physical and psychological profile - which finds peace in the clarity of left following right. 

The complexities of life stripped back by the simplicity of the act. Between A and B an unknown; punctuated by nature, light, sounds and symmetry. In the trees on the skyline, the mountain of clouds beyond, and the silence between, there is a boundlessness which is both life-giving and life-affirming.

In company, or alone. In silence, or sharing. For those few moments, hours, occasionally days, you are in unison. Mind, body, spirit and nature; at play, and at one. 

In this parity, free of any artificial falsity, there is a reassurance, and peacefulness, to hold onto. Even, and often, to endeavour from.

Today I noted also the novelty – lately at least – that for that window of time my mind was fine company. Dare I say it, even an excellent companion.

However, a wise friend recently reminded me of the value of not getting too attached to that feeling of limitlessness and possibility – as intoxicating as it is. Just like the woes and worries of a greyer day, life’s myriad of emotions are transient. It is why instead, I jot a joyful note in my diary - an essential reference point for when the clouds draw-in; this too shall pass. And equally, when the dogs at home, if I can muster the energy, I write also; a tool I use to remind myself to keep journeying forward – to keep seeking – to not turn back now.

Within the tapestry of a single lockdown day I find myself frequenting each end of the spectrum, multiple times over. The finest of margins flitting you between that sense of hopeful direction and hapless despondency.

It is why the sanctuary of sauntering - however transitory its vibrancy - has never been more valuable. 

25.01.21