New Edited Version: Walking and Public Awareness

Following is a slightly edited reposting of my Tuesday, March 8th meditation on walking. Somehow I managed to post those comments in a font that was practically impossible for good reading. I have not deleted the previous posting because there was a fine comment in response to it that you might want to look at. In the future, I will be doing all postings on the Blue Ogee with this font and this size. Let me know if it is easier to read.

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"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to bloom on the Earth with every step. " -- Thich Nhat Hanha, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.

"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll, Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." -- John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.

More than eight years ago, I " divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapoois, and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.

One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.

This self-imposed restriction of means of transportation and this slowing-down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are exluded from people who speed along the fast lange in vehicles.

They miss so much.

Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.

Here are some of the things that I noticed:

--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved residential neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate. Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on on either side of the highway?

--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that "someone" is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge hear the highway. I almost expected a voice to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in a home. But, of course, this didn't happen.

--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things--artefacts of a throw-away society--that have been cast out of cars as unimportant. There are some red flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock. McDonalds ketchup packets. . . .

--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has the building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed? Or both?

--There are different churches: Indianpolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church; First Lutheran--one more downtown congregation that has closed shop, I think. People are beginning to enter Central and the Praise Cathedral . . . . . looking for what? God? Friendship? Time out?

--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building (oh well, not beautiful but sort of imposing in a sixties brutal concrete way), University Park, and the Indianapolis Circle with a lavish monument to the Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.

--I have walked by myself but also I have passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me. This is still a "big small town" where some hospitable Midwestern practices survive. I feel new energy from these expressions of civility.

--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here and there. I look at the emerging buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate sends the right signal.

--As I am walking, I don't maintain a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my big extended family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean, crisp morning air.

--When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic , the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.

By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many backgrounds who use it.

For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.