I am in the valley by Uzzicar - named like some magicians' spell - where I find patterns emerging in the self - this desire to explore the new rather than revisit the familiar - makes me wonder if I am become a consumer of the land instead of a genuine explorer. This relates to my writing as well.
What do I mean?
Well, every day this week I have opened out the OS Map and figured a new route to try - one that will not cross any path I have taken in the days beforehand; that is my prime criteria, no repetition - either on foot or on my trusty Velocity bike. I like to believe I am learning about my surroundings, this new and enticing landscape, thereby locating myself ecologically, geographically and psychogeographically.
All well and good - in theory.
But I start to wonder about the necessity of going deeper, to better understand a tract of land (or, similarly, a piece of writing) in such a way that one finds more than just the immediate, the surface, the obvious - getting to grips with what Richard Mabey calls 'the naming of parts' on his journeys into the East Anglian landscape - identifying, coming to terms with detail, the exact ecology of place, the exact name - it is a parallel to writing, the hunt for the exact word - the wild language, Gary Snyder once said, sought daily -
So am I simply consuming space out here as I readily produce words, gaining ground in both ways? Or am I finding a method of understanding the land, the self, and therefore my work? If this is so I know I don't want the easy option - the packaged landscape that the consumers come for; I want to get beneath, inside, to get dirty. That is wholly important to my understanding of land and, thereby, self and if I understand self a little more then maybe my writing will be better? I can only get beneath by persevering with the familiar. Revisiting, having patience (the same as any birdwatcher for example, the patience to wait and maintain observation), never allowing myself to become spoilt by what I see.
This is good news. If this is the case, then I am learning and the land is helping me. It is a balance, a way forward that I had forgotten was necessary.
Two buzzards are circling on thermals over Barrow. A ram's bleeting echoes across the valley and back. A drift of wood smoke crosses eastward on the breeze.
I believe I am once again taking time to see, to feel. To understand imagery and emotions linked.
I'll stay seated here for a while and tomorrow I'll return.
Uzzicar, Cumbria
10/5/06
What do I mean?
Well, every day this week I have opened out the OS Map and figured a new route to try - one that will not cross any path I have taken in the days beforehand; that is my prime criteria, no repetition - either on foot or on my trusty Velocity bike. I like to believe I am learning about my surroundings, this new and enticing landscape, thereby locating myself ecologically, geographically and psychogeographically.
All well and good - in theory.
But I start to wonder about the necessity of going deeper, to better understand a tract of land (or, similarly, a piece of writing) in such a way that one finds more than just the immediate, the surface, the obvious - getting to grips with what Richard Mabey calls 'the naming of parts' on his journeys into the East Anglian landscape - identifying, coming to terms with detail, the exact ecology of place, the exact name - it is a parallel to writing, the hunt for the exact word - the wild language, Gary Snyder once said, sought daily -
So am I simply consuming space out here as I readily produce words, gaining ground in both ways? Or am I finding a method of understanding the land, the self, and therefore my work? If this is so I know I don't want the easy option - the packaged landscape that the consumers come for; I want to get beneath, inside, to get dirty. That is wholly important to my understanding of land and, thereby, self and if I understand self a little more then maybe my writing will be better? I can only get beneath by persevering with the familiar. Revisiting, having patience (the same as any birdwatcher for example, the patience to wait and maintain observation), never allowing myself to become spoilt by what I see.
This is good news. If this is the case, then I am learning and the land is helping me. It is a balance, a way forward that I had forgotten was necessary.
Two buzzards are circling on thermals over Barrow. A ram's bleeting echoes across the valley and back. A drift of wood smoke crosses eastward on the breeze.
I believe I am once again taking time to see, to feel. To understand imagery and emotions linked.
I'll stay seated here for a while and tomorrow I'll return.
Uzzicar, Cumbria
10/5/06
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