The first hike that really left an impression on me was heading up Mt. Diablo, outside Livermore, California, on July 4, 2010. In the years that followed, I started camping and hiking more, which expanded my awareness of the world through walking. I had lived in and around New York City for a few years after college, and while I noticed the city, I felt disconnected from seemingly simple things, like changes in the seasons. It took me a full summer in the city to realize that cicadas and birds make noise there just as they do elsewhere, but you have to listen much more closely.
When I moved to Maryland in 2009, there was less background noise to tune out and I felt the tug of seasonal change in a way I hadn’t in some time. Two summer weeks in California, which included that Diablo hike, stirred my blood in a new way. I needed to be outside; I needed to walk, to hike, to have as my sole purpose putting one foot in front of the other. Really, how else could I want to spend a day?
Walking and hiking in new places led me to begin reading more about them (not surprising for an English teacher) and to care more about the idea of place and the intersection between human actions and their effects on places. I have made lifestyle changes, admittedly minor, in response to increased knowledge not only about the effects of my daily actions on the places where I spend time, but also their cascading effects on other places. Indeed, there are many ways individuals can shift their perspectives and daily practices in order to fall more in line with values that show respect for self, other, and environment.
What is troublesome is that so many blogs and articles focused on sustainable lifestyle changes have an underlying message, sometimes voiced, sometimes not, that by making changes, a person is helping to “save the world.” I find this dubious, at best. Individual action seems unlikely to “save the world”; frankly, collective social or political action often seem doubtful. Still, I believe it is incredibly useful to be informed, to appreciate both historical and contemporary views of the natural world, and to reflect on our individual paths. What we need are conversations about living, not guides to salvation.
So, this is not about saving the world. It is barely about saving yourself. What it is about is a heightened awareness of both internal and external complexities that arise as we attempt to navigate the present in the face of what, for all purposes, appears to be a threatened future. When we choose to pay attention, there is beauty, there is choice, there are exploration and connection, if only we keep putting one foot in front of the other and remain open to the experiences that unfold beyond walking.
