Those of us who walk, and like to consider the meaning of walking, tend
to believe that a walk is something special.
We like to think a walk can be a source of inspiration, a form of
meditation, a sacrament, a journey of discovery both of the world and the
self. And of course it can be, and often is, all those things.
But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes
it’s just a walk.
And of course it ought to be possible to walk without thinking, without
writing about it after the event, without blogging about it, without taking photographs
en route and downloading them when you get home. But you know, we’re all
creatures of habit, and sometimes “just walking” is much harder than it sounds,
perhaps much harder than it ought to be.
Sure, you don’t want to get into a rut, but when walking has becomes a
means of looking, observing, recording, and also I suppose, metaphorically, a
form of hunting and gathering, it becomes hard “just” to go for a walk. Maybe that’s OK after all, and even if it’s
not I’m not sure we can do much about it.
We are how we walk: we walk how we are.
Here are some things I saw and snapped on some recent walks within the
borders of Hollywood. They don’t add up
to a source of inspiration, or a form of meditation, a sacrament, or a journey
of discovery both of the world and the self.
But we’re just going to have to live with that.
