I walk. A lot.
In fact, everywhere I go with some regularity, I create and keep a route. I have one in Sunset Beach, North Carolina, and one in Chicago. I have one in Brooklyn and one in Boston. St. Louis. And of course, home.
The one at home is the most frequented, since I manage to take it at least 4-5 times a week when I’m around. In all weather, at any time of day or night. (I own snowshoes and enough personal illumination to make me a convincing parade float.)
But all the routes I’ve created over the years hold memories and emotions like a sponge, and each time I walk one I both experience the past and create another layer with the present.
The indigenous Australians have something wonderful called Songline or Dreaming Track, where the way across vast distances is understood by knowing a song that, when sung in the right sequence, recounts water-holes, landmarks, and other natural phenomena. Sometimes I feel like my daily walk orders my soul so I can move around easier.
I always bring my camera, because hey, I’m still a photographer. The path is a meditation, but also a gentle exercise in seeing – both within and without.
Here’s a few views.