Mary Eynon

Interdisciplinary Artist and Maker

The path that leads me to think and see

The path that leads me to think and see

Walking is a way I can escape my busy life and clear my mind. At first I recite all the responsibilities in my head, go through all the things I have to do and schedule a way to complete them. I go over past conversations and recall recent events. But once this bundle of confusion is out of my mind, my head is free to wonder and enjoy the landscape. The aim of the walk is to think of nothing at all, to get lost in my mind and the landscape. The aim is not to think but I have to get all the thinking done first. It is a space for me to shut my mind down. And then my thoughts and attention wonder to the objects around me. A large shaped rock with neat creases along one side, a stick with beautiful moss taking over its form, an old fence blending into the forest green. And I begin to notice more and more things that I would not normally see. When you begin to look for objects, you clear your mind and focus on those objects and see things you would not normally. This is when my mind gets lost in the landscape, searching for something that I do not know. 

 

“There are known knows. There are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns. That is to say, we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns, the ones we don’t know we know” 
Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost
It is a constant search, l am always learning new things I didn’t know I could know. I have a rough idea of how my landscape functions, how animals live and plants grow, but there are always new things to surprise me. Like a stallion can get territorial over his mares who are down the bottom of the hill he proudly stand on, the direction you are heading in. And even though he has seen countless humans, and had other walkers pass by up the hill pass his mares and towards him, he will still charge and chase you through the mud and uneven ground to protect them. And I learnt that a pair of kestrels have nested on my daily dog walking path. They perch on a burnt tree with their nest somewhere inside the hollow trunk, only accessible from their soaring height. High above the path they go unnoticed from many, the normal brigade who look down at the floor or their phones. But those who are so engrossed in their news-feed and their music, strolling along  not really in the same place I am, miss the perfect sound of the baby owl. They miss the other one calling back in return and they most certainly don’t see it glide across the path right before my very eyes. Its tiny body swooping perfectly in the open then disappearing from plain sight. It amazes me what people do not see, and I know I can not see it all either. But when a muntjac is standing clear as day besides the bushes eating the grass, even my dogs stand in wonder. Yet people walk on not looking around them. Another person stops as I do to observe and then as the munjac decides she’s had enough and shoots off, we look at each other in admiration. It is at that point that others turn their heads at the sound of the bushes rustling, my dog taking her chases to catch it, and both mine and the other gentleman’s head looking in the same direction with a grin on our faces. For they have missed the rare spectacle and they realise they have not had their eyes open, and I hope that they will now.  

So I would describe myself as wanderer. Wandering and roaming not worried about getting lost as that’s the most exciting part. When you no longer have a clue where you are. But this does not happen very often, most land has previously been walk and there will be someone at some point who you will bump into. But for a few minutes you can be lost in unknown territory, and this excites me. 

In (Walter) Benjamin’s terms, to be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery. And one does not get lost but loses oneself, with the implication that it is a conscious choice, a chosen surrender, a psychic state achievable through geography. That thing the nature of which is totally unknown to you is usually what you need to find, and finding it is a matter of getting lost. The word “lost” comes from the Old Norse los, meaning the disbanding of an army, and this origin suggests soldiers falling out of formation to go home, a truce with the wide world.
Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

I think this passage really sums up what the walking means to me and why I do it. It is at these times I am fully present in my mind but lost at the same time. To be able to lose yourself in the landscape is difficult but upon walking, it come naturally for me.

140 thoughts on “The path that leads me to think and see”

  1. Thank you for your sharing. I am worried that I lack creative ideas. It is your article that makes me full of hope. Thank you. But, I have a question, can you help me?

  7. Thank you for your sharing. I am worried that I lack creative ideas. It is your article that makes me full of hope. Thank you. But, I have a question, can you help me?

  53. Thank you for your sharing. I am worried that I lack creative ideas. It is your article that makes me full of hope. Thank you. But, I have a question, can you help me?

  64. Thank you for your sharing. I am worried that I lack creative ideas. It is your article that makes me full of hope. Thank you. But, I have a question, can you help me?

  137. I don’t think the title of your article matches the content lol. Just kidding, mainly because I had some doubts after reading the article.

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