I love to step outside.
I like walking, walking and reading, walking and thinking. I feel a necessity for walking. I walked the Camino de Santiago. I walked for everyone I know and knew. I walked to regain control of what it means to be in my body, what it means to walk away. I walked with awareness without skill, expressionless, near solitary, near-deprogrammed, but because I could still walk. I walked slowly, listening to my interior murmurings and fragmentations as they butted up against countless landscapes, each day, each new person I met. Top-soil thinking abated. I was resourceful in my walking, containing and expanding energies. In walking I set up rhythms, a continual meditation in gentle motion, walking the talk. I rejoiced in social engagement while walking, the little chats and the long discoveries. I walked as part of my art practice listening to my thought, my body, my soul. No beginning, no end. A sum of an infinity of points, moments of solitary contemplation, shared joys and hardships. And it went on and on and on..
I walk as a way of life, as a practice.