On Walking

James Blog Final.jpgGuest post by James Arthur

Somehow I never got around to taking my driver’s test. I make various excuses for not having a license (I grew up in a city with a subway, I’m doing my part for the environment, I have bad eyesight, cars are expensive, gas is expensive, etc.), but the truth is, I don’t know why I never learned to drive, except that I’ve never really wanted to. I walk everywhere and take a foolish, conceited pleasure in the fact that some people find this eccentric.

But from a writer’s point of view, there’s at least one justification for long walks. Walking, though it’s inefficient (or maybe because it’s inefficient?), lets you carve out blocks of time in which you can daydream: time that you’re not spending on the phone, on the Internet, at your job, or even at your desk, writing.

To walk somewhere, when driving would be more sensible, is to recognize that inefficiency is worth something.

walking.JPGWhen I lived on Capitol Hill in Seattle, my favorite walk was west-southwest down Pike Street from Broadway, turning north at the Pike Place Market and following Elliott Avenue to Myrtle Edwards Park, and then on to the Pier 86 Grain Terminal, where grain brought by rail from eastern Washington and further inland is loaded onto hulking steel freighters and carried across the Pacific.

Going for a walk puts you into an intimate, observant relationship with the physical world, and I think the chemistry that takes place between the objects we see and the moods we bring to bear on them–causing, for example, a sequoia to seem melancholy if the observer is in a melancholy frame of mind–is at the very core of why and how we make metaphors.

Looking outward, in my opinion, is not the opposite of looking inward; both are the opposite of not looking at all.

Photo credit: Vladimir Menkov.

This is James’ fifth post for Get Behind the Plough.

No related content found.

This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to On Walking

  1. DeMisty Bellinger says:

    I have a license, but I hardly use it. Really, I’ve never driven alone (only twice, when my husband had to return a U-Haul and I had to follow him so that he may get back home). I only got a license because I felt I needed one in case of some dire need.
    Like you, I had excuses: The bus system is decent (I grew up in Milwaukee). Boyfriend has a car. Sister can drive me. Dad can drive me. I like to walk.
    But I really do like to walk. I don’t have a problem walking more than a couple of miles a day. And although I like walking with others, I absolutely love walking alone. I’ve had many epiphanies while on foot and moments of serendipity that I would have missed had I a walking partner.
    I really don’t know if this has anything to do with writing or if it is just coincidence. But, when I was pregnant with my twin girls and put on bed rest (or in hell, whatever you want it to call it), I found my writing mind stagnating along with my leg muscles. This was also the case when I was laid up with a broken leg (and that came from learning how to ride a bike, which is a different story). Both times, in spite of all the time I had to write, I wrote nothing.