THE HEROIC WANDERER

“The chivalrous and heroic spirit that once belonged to the knight now seems to have taken up residence in the wanderer—not the knight-walker, but the wandering walker.”

These are the words of Henry David Thoreau, one of my greatest walking heroes. Thoreau’s thoughts on civil disobedience and humanity’s moral obligation to renounce the injustices of the system (in his time, slavery) inspired Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi’s civil disobedience was also grounded in walking—the perseverance and pacifist strength of the wanderer, who does not participate in cycles of consumptive, addictive behavior. He stood upright against an unjust system. The quiet protest of walking became a political statement, a protest that grew stronger with every witness who rose to their feet. From America, Dr. King saw how Gandhi, through his simple philosophy, revolutionized the balance of power in India. King’s engagement with Gandhi’s ideas inspired him to ground the American Civil Rights Movement in the same principles: pacifist disobedience as an active and purposeful form of resistance.

Perhaps we ourselves will reach the day when the only true answer is to rise and walk upright in quiet movement. Courageously. Together. And what will we walk for, and what will we walk against?

But Thoreau also asks:

“What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something outside them?”

During his walks, he did not wish to think a single thought that did not belong to the forest. He kept society’s conditions and injustices separate from his wandering, where he wanted only to think “place-thoughts.” As if he understood that the place itself was listening. Should the forest hear about bookkeeping and disagreements? Or did the woods speak to him of other, more important things?

I believe that all places call us to be present. Sensory awareness is not only a practice for the forest—it is a practice we can cultivate at all times. We simply live in environments that strain our nervous systems in unhelpful ways (like now, as I close my window against the pounding of construction drilling on my nerves). We live in bodies that are constantly alert to danger. The jolts and noise of the city, the rumble of traffic, push us into overdrive (and if not the city’s dangers, then the imagined dangers of our own thoughts). When sensory impressions slow down and shift less abruptly, something else happens to our bodies, our thoughts, and our emotions. And perhaps slowness is heroic—if it creates the clarity and strength needed for what we truly must create together.

Quotes: Henry David Thoreau, Walking and Other Essays. Gaia Series. A Mock Book.