Walking Backwards

 

Walking Backwards

I have been doing this for a couple of weeks now, metaphorically that is, I suspect that if I had physically been doing this for any period of time I would not be in a fit state to write this!

My last blog reflected on moving on, working out what exactly is it that I want to do?

Midsummer Procession 2015.

'I will walk backwards away from what I thought I was going towards, to gain an overview of it and its environs. I will retreat slowly and carefully and see what aspects of the blog writing that I miss, and hopefully this will remind me of why I have kept writing every week for the last year.'

Well, thankfully it hasn't taken long to recognise what I miss and also what it is that I enjoy discovering whilst out walking, that I want to share with others.

Talking to people who have read the blog over the last year and hearing their impressions of it have greatly helped too.

Shadow company on the path.

I have been told that it is easy to 'dip into', another said it was 'an escape', a third told me how much she appreciated reading about my walking experiences when she herself was unable to walk any distance due to poor health, she said it was like she was accompanying me anyway! These comments were very much appreciated as I gather my thoughts on why, how and what type of book I shall be writing.

Finding Form

Despite any disappointment I may have had that the publisher didn't instantly give me a huge cheque for my thoughts when I met up with him the previous week, I have still kept up with any walking, research and networking opportunities! I went to a fascinating poetry reading at the University of Kent with a friend a couple of weeks ago. Tom Chivers was reading from his new (beautiful) book 'Dark Islands', published by Test Centre, 2015. I loved the way his writing was highly observant, imaginative and often playful.

Here are a couple of stanzas from my favorite poem in the book, titled 'The Islanders'.

'The islanders were digital natives,

bronzed and nubile, their ankles garlanded

with flash drives fashioned from conch shells.

At dusk they danced a ritual waltz,

the men intoning Windows log-off

as the sun passed beyond the horizon.'

Tom's work, especially this one, reminded me of some writing by Will Self, in his Penguin mini-book 'Scale' about the future tribes who will inhabit service stations on the defunct motorways. I feel that imagination like this is very accessible and it excites me as it is a subtle and clever twist on our known reality. Both Tom's and my own work is inspired by similar interests although the processes and outcomes are different, so I hope to keep in touch with him.

Reflections.

I will continue to find my form in the next couple of weeks and then I will be off, knowing I am moving in the right direction. I may not be following an existing path but making my own. Perhaps that is what has been the hesitancy in progressing with this book any sooner.

Moving On

Moving On

Time is moving on, even as I write this the clocks continue to tick, life moves forward through the seasons and the smaller daily events that we choose to engage with keep us busy as time duly passes.

A year on from starting this blog I am far more aware of where this work is going and yet blindly naive of its final outcome. With this in mind I have decided to slow down on the blog and concentrate on the big picture.

I was directed to a poem during a workshop with Mary Reynolds-Thompson last year titled 'The Summer Day' by Mary Oliver. Here is the last part of it, which I feel is relevant to how I feel and where I am now.

'I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?'

What exactly is it that I want to do? I met up with a publisher earlier this week and he asked me that. I told him I am in the process of writing a book based on my blog. Silence. Then I remembered the last Friday's 'Blue Banana' business meeting and I understood what he meant.

 

What was my 'prime directive', what strategy was I following? For example, did I want to produce the book as a 'calling card' by which I could market at workshops and talks? What is of value in the blog that I want to share, which reflections have moved my project on? What actually is my project? Why am I even considering writing a book?

 

So with this in mind, this deep questioning of my plan...'with your one wild and precious life', I will walk backwards away from what I thought I was going towards, to gain an overview of it and its environs. I will retreat slowly and carefully and see what aspects of the blog writing that I miss, and hopefully this will remind me of why I have kept writing every week for the last year. What is it that I enjoy discovering whilst out walking, that I want to share with others?

Marking Time

Marking Time

Soon it will be Midsummer. The longest day of daylight hours will be celebrated here in Whitstable again as it has been over the past few years when I will lead a procession of people up the hill on the old Salt Way, walking slowly and mindfully.

The Salt Way, Whitstable.

We will remember the history of this place in another time when it was a main trading route which carried salt from its origins on the coast through to the centre of Kent, where it was needed as an essential commodity.

Seawater, handmade clay vessel and small copper fire-pit.

I initially created this event as a one off piece of fieldwork for the MA project I was working on. I wanted to ‘re-enchant’ this overlooked and disused historic path by creating a spectacle that could be both participated in and viewed as a shared experience. Over the years it has become a regular occurrence and now past participants look forward to it.

Midsummer Fire on the Salt Way.

Midsummer day is a natural marker in the year to take stock of what has already been achieved and take some time out for anticipating future developments and clarifying the flow of our own activity on this lightest of days.

The sun setting last Midsummer.

From past experience I know that the practice of walking together in a procession and slowing down to a steady mindful pace does physically mark time for all of us and creates a wonderful and essential sense of connection with people, place and season, outside our busy lives.

Seasonal Senses

Over Easter I had a great break away, staying in a treehouse in Wales. I wrote about it here, two entries ago. What I most appreciated when I returned to Kent was the abundance of fruit blossom that was out in the orchards, amongst the roadside hedgerows and especially in my garden. We have planted many fruit trees here to add to the much older stock that we were lucky enough to inherit when we moved into the house and its garden 20 years ago.

Returning from the beautiful lush, wild and rocky landscape of Wales to suburban Kent was slightly disappointing until I opened the back door and saw that our garden was full of blossom! The pear blossom was nearly finished and didn't smell as sweet as the fresh apple tree flowers that were busy with bees, but the overall view of the garden was one of abundance and beauty.

Apple blossom.

Throughout the year as the seasons change there are always familiar elements to look forward to. In the woods in which I regularly walk, once the white carpet of Wood Anemones has finished, the Bluebells fragrance the air and their vibrant blue colour can become almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Seasonal variations in light and shadow can be appreciated whilst out walking.

These cyclic seasonal changes are reassuring and a great reminder of our place in the world, putting ‘front page news events’ into perspective. I believe that to walk and observe this regular seasonal change connect us to our senses and in fact sometimes are the only thing that ‘makes sense’. It reminds us that we are also part of the flora and fauna of these islands and that in itself is a humbling thought.

Making Sense

We like things to make sense; it gives us a feeling of well-being and security. With the onward march of the terror group ISIS, record and fatally high temperatures in India, FIFA corruption and constant government policy announcements in the news it can be a relief to walk out and use our senses to remind ourselves of the real world.

Walking allows us to focus on reality.

Walking allows us to slow down and observe seasonal changes and as we do so we start to recognise natural fragrances such as Bluebells or leaf litter, learn bird-songs or understand the light and shadow play at a specific time of year. Wild food foraging allows us to connect deeper to our environment knowing when and where to look for specific berries, leaves, seeds etc.

Wild Food Mandala created by Jo Barker and participants of her foraging walks.

‘The Spell of the Sensuous’ by David Abram was one of my favorite books I used when I studied for my MA. Its subtitle was ‘Perception and language in a More-Than-Human-World’. There is a chapter on the 'Ecology of Magic' that includes this quote,

‘Caught up in a mass of abstractions, our attention hypnotised by a host of human-made technologies that only reflect us back to ourselves, it is all too easy for us to forget our carnal inherence in a more-than-human matrix of sensations and sensibilities.’

Walking encourages us to slow down, that in itself is a start to making sense of it all. When we are at a walking pace we are able to observe and recognise the place that we are in. Steadily one step at a time we are able to become more than human.

Last years Midsummer gathering.

Mindful walking, alone or in a procession, creates a sense of enormous well-being and that is why I will be returning once again to the Salt Way at Midsummer, with others, to share a special experience that will help us make sense of it all.