by The Steampunk Vicar
In a world empowered by horseless carriages, aeroplanes, and rapid public transit, just as much as a world whose wheels are greased by trains, dirigibles, and mechanical walkers of varying degrees of complexity, it has been far too easy, throughout my life, to give up on the discipline of walking. To stroll, idly, is a joy that the Lord has shared with humankind since the very Beginning – after all, did not God walk with Adam and Eve in the Garden?
There are certain magicks in walking. Lord Baden-Powell, a British hero of the Second Boer War met his future wife, and recognized having seen her before – by her walk. It is both the most intimate way in which we interact with God’s green earth, and the way that humans were first able to have dominion over the same. Our capacity for travel in this particular way enabled – and enables – us to travel vast distances when necessary.
For me, however, the greatest point of essence in the walk is its spiritual nature. I find that walking is a sort of prayer. even in my hours of greatest perceived distance from God. To drive, also, can be a sort of prayer, but it feels more wasteful, and further separated from the earth beneath my feet.
And, finally, I write more when I walk. When I take to my feet, whatever road calls to me, I reflect and remember, and the words begin spinning. This weblogue would not exist without the chance that I have to walk, and to write in walking. I would by no means consider giving up my Auto-Mobile Sacristy, or my Airship Chapel, but, from time to time, it is good to mobile my own autos.
Has walking meaning for you? Or is it all Chevrolets and magneto-trains?