I’ve just started reading Robert MacFarlane’s book, The Old Ways : a journey on foot.
It’s one of those books that I can read only in stages, not because it’s heavy going, but because I want to savour the thoughts and descriptions, the journey.
I particlularly like his thoughts on landscapes, that they enter into us like sunlight ‘flickeringly unmappable in its plays yet often quickening and illuminating’, that we get to know things in particular places that we don’t know elsewhere, and, more challenging, what do these places ‘know of me that I cannot know of myself?’
I like those questions, especially the last.
It hangs in the air like a wind chime waiting for the breath of our effort, or our going with the flow, listening.