Venturing Without Seeing

I am always on the go. As soon as I complete a task or adventure, I look for the next. I dread sitting still, remaining in one place, moving too slowly, and moving without purpose. I always have a goal in mind and this is why I struggle to see. Annie Dillard’s “Seeing” and John Stilgoe’s “Outside Lies Magic” eloquently explain the phenomenon of truly seeing and experiencing nature. Dillard discusses the struggle “to gag the commentator” (34). I now strive “to hush the noise of useless interior babble that keeps me from seeing just as surely as a newspaper daggled before my eyes” (34). I hadn’t before thought of experiencing nature in this way. Without internal commentary – just seeing what is before me. I suppose a meaningful experience in nature doesn’t always have to be associated with profound thoughts and technical commentary. Sometimes, I need to simply see.

I  know I am missing out as I move so quickly. My experiences in the outdoors all involve some goal, whether it is summiting a mountain, reaching a certain distance, cardiovascular exercise, climbing a rock face, paddling to a location in the lake. I hope to apply the advice of Stigloe. He states, “Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything…Walk. Stroll. Saunter…Explore” (1). I am a prime example of a poor explorer. I do not move without purpose or a plan. I fear of getting lost and I typically follow a set trail or a leader. Stigloe explains, “Ordinary exploration begins in casual indirection, in the juiciest sort of indecision, in deliberate, then routine fits of absence of mind” (9). I long to explore as I have rarely, or possibly never, done before – drifting mindlessly forward. Stigloe’s call for exploration is an essential way of seeing as Dillard describes.

A recent experience I had running with a friend through the neighborhoods and hills surrounding Lafayette was a clear example of my failure to see. It took experiencing my regular running route with a friend with fresh eyes and a unique perspective for me to truly see the trail and all that surrounded me. I plan to expand on this experience and these ideas in my response paper.

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