A Walk for Peace (Of Mind)

Field Notes IV.II: A photo essay of a journey through the mundane

Welcome to Field Notes!

* I realize many of you (myself included) read essays through the app on you phone. When I use photo ‘galleries’ here they show up on your phone simply as any other photo. Shown in sequence as you scroll down, that is, without any space saving or layout intention upheld. The format of this photo essay is an effort to get around that and prevent you from having to endlessly scroll through. I tried to do this in an interesting, creative, and fun way. It is an experiment, though. I would still highly recommend taking a look at this on a computer, if that is an option for you.

Why am I doing this? I’m not looking forward to it. A damp chill settles on my skin as she drives away, leaving me standing on the wet pavement of an empty gas station parking lot… just as I asked. The morning has been unseasonably warm for early January but is unfolding into a desaturated, gloomy kind of day that inspires a lethargy of the spirit.

Doubts crowd my mind about what lays ahead. Not about my ability to do it, but of my motivation for it. Although virtually flat, nearly 20 miles is still a lot of walking for one day. It is all along roads and highways. Nothing scenic. And now it’s drizzling. This is my weekend, and I can think of 100 other more productive things to do. Is there really a point to this?

The idea started with monks. A group of Buddhist monks embarked on a Walk for Peace from Texas to Washington, DC in order to raise awareness for peace, loving kindness, and compassion. Already in Georgia when I became aware of them, I saw that their route would take them directly through Athens and Clarke County, my hometown.

The monks’ endeavor struck me as genuinely aligned with my own interests. As a backpacker with aspirations to do very long thru hikes, I frame my trips as pilgrimages for philosophical introspection. I’ve also long been intrigued by the mindful aspect of Buddhism and see it as a potentially synergistic compliment to philosophy. With that in mind, I became excited over the possibility of walking along with the monks as they crossed Clarke County.

I followed the monks’ progress as they grew closer. I also saw just how popular they had become. Crowds of thousands gathered near Atlanta. Politicians showed up at their public meetings. And of course, multitudes wanting to share the novelty of these monks on their own social media pages.

As much as I support these monks’ mission and the attention they are drawing to it, wouldn’t I have an ulterior motive? I was intending on photographing them and writing about the experience. At least in some small way, wouldn’t I be trying to capitalize on their fame and catch a little bit of that spotlight for myself?

The monks changed their route in the days prior to reaching town. I speculate that this was due to the crowds and logistics of moving through urban areas. They would now be walking a more rural course south of Athens, rather than through it.

With that came my decision to forgo seeing the monks and to walk my own path across Clarke County, from its border with Oconee County in the east to Oglethorpe County in the west. Just because I’ve never done that before, and to see what the universe may place before me along the way. That is how I came to be standing here alone on a dreary Saturday, really only looking forward to getting this over with.

There’s only one way to put this behind me. That’s to start walking.

But there’s a lot more to living than you can find in books. It’s as if, on entering the stadium, an athlete were to be upset because he’s not outside, in training. This is what you were training for; this is what your weights were for, your sprinkled sand, your training partners. Are you really missing these now, when its time for action?

Epictetus Discourses 4.4.11

There is a time for books, but also a time to test what we’ve learned from books. Perhaps this is what today’s walk is about. Placing myself out in the world to see what I encounter. To experience the mundane from a fresh perspective. To see if I can take what I’ve learned from philosophy and test it out in the world.

Everything outside of my will is not in my control and thus indifferent. What is in my control in how I use impressions, how I react to circumstances, how I maintain equanimity amid adversity. Will this hold up in the arena of the real world?

The drizzle is persistent. My sleeves are wetted through and the chill grips me, despite a steady walking pace. Wet grass along the edge of the road has dampened my shoes, and I’m not even an hour into this walk.

So herein I find my first and most immediate challenge. Yes, the conditions are unpleasant. Yes, it will be a long day without much payoff. Yes, I could be in my dry home with a cup of coffee and a book. But does that mean this sucks? Must I term this ‘awful,’ or give it any other such descriptor?

The answer is no. Those terms are reactions of the mind to the circumstances. I won’t go along with them. Instead, I will view this entire walk as unfolding possibility.

There is a Buddhist tradition of walking mediation. I am only superficially familiar with it, but I’ve experienced something similar on my hikes. Miles underfoot, walking to the rhythmic crunching of leaves and the cadence of breath and pulse. It can bring one to an almost trance like state.

That is not what I am trying to achieve today. This walk is about engagement with the world. It is about observation. It is immersing myself in everyday sights, but from a pedestrian perspective I have never before experienced around here. With this in mind, the ordinary becomes remarkable and the world seems to be a menagerie of the exceptionally odd.

A figure stands with his back turned to me at the far side of the highway, strategically positioned at one exit from a Sam’s Club parking lot. I scarcely notice him, taking him to be a homeless man with a sign. A strum of guitar strings catches my attention as I’m passing by and I realize he’s playing for tips.

There is no crosswalk here. Traffic is light on this Saturday morning, but I still have to choose my moment to dart across the five lanes of rushing cars.

“That’s good. How long have you been playing?”

“A long time. How long have you been traveling?”

“Just today” I answer. I tell him about my walk and the monks that inspired it. He tells me a little about where he’s from and how much money he can make playing here. Jimmy Infinity is his name. He lets me take his photograph and is happy for me to share it.

I wish Jimmy well and as I continue on my way I wonder how I’m going to get back across the road.

Jimmy Infinity. Shared with permission.

When he brought you into the world, what kind of being were you? A mortal one, right? One who would live here on earth along with a scrap of flesh, to witness his governance and play a small part in this procession, this gala that he’s laid on. So shouldn’t you use your allotted time to be a spectator of the pageant and the festival? And then, when he leads you away, shouldn’t you go with reverence, thanking him for all you’ve heard and seen?

Epictetus Discourses 4.1.104-105

What if we thought of life as a festival? Even on a somber day such as this. Perhaps then everything we encounter would be a source of wonder. A key aspect of this might be the outward focus. Epictetus tells us to be a spectator. To be a spectator we must observe and see what is out there and not think of ourselves and how those external things affect us.

If you retain your equanimity, imperturbability, and composure, if your the observer of events rather than the observed, if you’re not envious of people who’ve been preferred to you, if you’re not phased by the material world, what is it that you lack?

Epictetus Discourses 4.4.10

Freedom. That’s what Epictetus is describing. Freedom from control by the material world.

So many today, and I doubtlessly include myself, are concerned with image. How do we look to our friends? How do we present ourselves on social media? It is a trap that is easy to fall into, even for someone striving for authenticity. We must be popular these days for anyone to find our writing, our photography, our art. We need to have a following; to be Instagram famous. Today it matters less how skilled your craft is. What has eclipsed this is you influence. And for this you must present yourself as a persona to the public.

All of this makes you the observed rather than the observer. It chains you to the material world and to reactions of people you don’t know that are beyond your control. It robs you of freedom.

So today, just maybe, I can stay focused less on myself and how I will present to an audience, and more on the curiosity of the ordinary that is laid out before me. Therein I might find gratitude.

In this trek eastward Atlanta Highway morphs into West Broad St. Somewhere along this transition is where I become aware of just how un-pedestrian this country, or at least this little section of it, is.

Sidewalks. They seem like such a basic concept, but I am finding them to be a useless patchwork of disconnected and half-hearted attempts to fulfill government regulations. It seems that each bit of commercial property along the state route is required to build its own section of sidewalk. Some stretches have it. Many don’t. Where it exists, I have to cross ditches or culverts to get to it, only to find that it ends abruptly at a property line bordered by a fence or just an overgrown hedge.

There are other stretches of sidewalk on the other side of the road. But a crosswalk to get there? Nah, not a concern. So now there is the all too frequent choice of either dodging across lanes of traffic or edging along a shoulder where no fine print mandate has led to a walkway for foot travel.

This makes for rough walking at times, but dwelling or complaining won’t move me along any easier. I’ll just consider it urban bushwhacking.

It is about mid day as I reach downtown Athens. I wondered whether I would encounter any unique personalities here today. Not so much. The cold and the wet have kept most people indoors. The streets are subdued, vehicle traffic minimal.

This town is a strange mix. There are historical buildings interspersed with specialty shops. The plethora of bars catering to the college crowd aren’t busy yet. In the midst of this commercial hub, there is no shortage of the homeless huddled against storefronts under awnings.

There’s only one path that leads to contentment- and this is a thought you should have at hand morning, noon, and night- and that is to renounce things that aren’t subject to the will, to think of none of them as yours, to surrender your whole life to the gods and fortune.

Epictetus Discourses 4.4.39

Would that truly be possible? If I were laying on the cold concrete next to these homeless, could I honestly feel content by focusing entirely on my will? That is the goal, but I can’t say I could live up to that today.

Imagine the freedom in achieving that. If we consider that what we know from ancient history as accurate, then perhaps Diogenes of Sinope has already demonstrated that it is in fact possible. Known as The Dog, he lived his life as a homeless paragon of authenticity and virtue.

I stop in at a local coffee shop, Jittery Joe’s. The dark roast of the day is called ‘Travelin’ Joe.’ That’s perfect. I order a large.

The cramped cafe is clamorous with conversations. The young lady working as barista has a fascinating array of makeup and jewels bedazzled across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She would make a delightful subject for a portrait, but she’s distracted. She hands me my coffee and immediately turns away.

My attention is then drawn to the warm patina of the wooden tables and chairs. They are the same ones that I sat in when I frequented this cafe a quarter century ago while attending college. This place was called Cafe Royale back then.

I try to photograph the chairs and table but my lens has fogged in the humid warmth inside. It’s back out into the grey light of day, but now with a coffee to sip and warm my fingers as I walk.

The trestle is new. A ruined older version stood here until a few years ago. It became famous for gracing the cover of an REM album. It’s gone now, replaced by a functional trestle supporting the Firefly Trail.

The Firefly Trail is interesting. It is still under construction, but will span 39 miles to connect Athens with Union Point, Ga. If I can figure out its official route, I eventually intend on walking the entire thing in one day. Why? Because no one has before. That means that when I do it I will have set the fastest known time for thru hiking it, by default!

Just don’t flaunt your position or boast about it, but demonstrate your caliber by your actions. And if no one notices, let it be enough that you’re healthy and happy yourself.

Epictetus Discourses 3.24.118

And so I come to the east side of town. I’m beyond the halfway point, and my feet are feeling the strain. I feel my attention reaching towards the end of the journey. I struggle to keep focused in the moment, to continue to observe what is before me.

The miles pass, slowly. Achingly slow. This side of the county is less developed. Businesses become more spread apart. What was Broad St becomes Oconee St and then Lexington Rd. Lexington is another stretch of five lane highway, much more crowded with traffic than earlier in the day.

Still, I plod along hugging the shoulder as tightly as possible. I pass the airport. And then the Walmart on this side of town. Beyond that, Lexington Rd collapses into a two lane road leading towards Oglethorpe County.

It is deceptive to think that a smaller road leading into a rural county would be easier walking. There is little shoulder to walk on here. Tractor trailers careen past by inches, blasting me with wind in their wake.

I focus on the goal. To maintain composure, and to observe.

I had not called her to pick me up yet. I still have two miles to go, but Heather passes me on the road, shouting and waving as she flies past. I text her. She tracked my progress and doesn’t mind waiting on me at the finish, the Oglethorpe County line.

By now my thighs are painful and my feet scream with each step. I can’t help but check the map to watch my progress inch forward. A gentle upward grade rises before me and as I make my way along her car comes into view in the distance. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more steps and this walk is done.

And they say that a human being, in addition to having greatness of mind and the ability to see the unimportance of everything that isn’t subject to will, has this further attribute, that he isn’t rooted or attached to the earth, but moves from time to time to different places, sometimes driven by certain needs and sometimes just to see what there is to see.

Epictetus Discourses 3.24.12

Did this trek have a point to it, after all? Sure. The point was just to put myself out into the world. To expose myself to what the universe and fate had to offer. In doing so, I might have achieved a bit of insight into my world, my philosophy, and myself.

I didn’t encounter any epic scenery or dramatic events. That was not the point. It was a journey just to realize that this world is such a strange place. It’s all outside of my control, so I might as well observe it like observing a festival, for as long as I’m here. To marvel at its peculiar beauty and be thankful at the opportunity.

As Epictetus says, sometimes we need to move to different places, just to see what there is to see.

* I used the Robin Waterfield translation of Epictetus for these quotes.

I hope this photo essay has been interesting. It certainly was interesting for me to do. This was one of those things that I’m very glad to have done, but I’m not certain I want to do again. That is, unless I come up with a different purpose for doing so.

The concept is sound, however. I really enjoyed just getting out into the world and approaching it with a more street photography style. I’d like to do more of that.

Let me know your impressions of this kind of thing! Have you ever done anything similar? And what do you think of the way I’ve presented these pictures? Drop me a comment!

Most of these photos were cropped in to some degree to fit in the frames you see them in in this essay. If you’re interested in seeing the actual photos, and only the photos, I invite you to check out my photo galleries on my website. I created a gallery just for this adventure and I have another for more nature oriented photos of Athens and surrounding areas.

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