Camino de Santiago, Astorga, Spain (26.06.2023)
On pilgrimage, on walkabout, the destination isn’t really the point. There’s no goal. It’s a conversation with the land, it’s peaks and rivers, the flowers, weather, history, rocks. It’s a conversation with the interior landscape. Slow walking holds not knowing. To race to a destination invites injury and alienation.
Australian aboriginal songlines are a way of being in the world. These first people sing the world into existence, step by step, a deep form of bearing witness. Every tree and mountain has its role in a vast web of songlines that guide to ancient resources certainly, but more importantly to the Ancients who created this world and to neighboring people who sing their part of the world into being. “An unsung land is a dead land.”
Slow walking holds pace for insight to emerge from the landscape itself. A hidden spring in a ravine, a tiny jewel-green frog in the black forests of Washington, the deep indigo sky on top of Mt. Whitney, all these are best savored slowly. Likewise, seeing into the heart of another takes time, holding space between two people. Listening each other into existence.
Slow walking side by side, on a journey with neither beginning nor end. The word saunter comes from French, “a san terre.” Go slow, go far.