Days 21 and 22 were both days of seeing old friends, walking paths with them in new places. We have walked together metaphorically over the years; what a pleasure to walk again with them in person – to cross our paths on purpose, to intermingle our thoughts and weave together the stories that have happened on our separate paths over the years.
I travel to connect to the things, places, and people that mean something to me, that feed my soul. I walk for the same reasons.
On Day 21, I was in Seattle. Lots of hills, lots of art, lots of good food.
I love that in cities, the idea of “walking distance” expands.
As I walk in cities, I see things I wouldn’t see from a car; and in a walking city, people leave things for walkers to see. Quirky objects, bits of art, flowers, words.
As I walk in cities, I hear things I wouldn’t hear otherwise – different languages, different music, birds, dogs, snippets of conversation. I cross paths with people who are different from me, with different backgrounds, and I like that. It wakes me up. It reminds me that there are many ways to live and be in this world.
I walked to lunch with one friend, and dinner with another. Walked in the evening up these lovely stairs to a deck on which to write.
On Day 22, I walked with a dear friend in Port Angeles. It was quieter than the city, more expansive, more room to look around, and room to look inward in a different way. Water. Mountains. Breath. Light.
This friend and I have both wandered the country (and other countries) over the years, and luckily both of our meanderings led us west at the same time for a bit this month. We overlapped! In a place I visited more than ten years ago, and a place she was in for the first time, we encouraged each other and laughed together, we made fun of ourselves and commiserated, we talked of love and betrayal.
These two days (21 and 22) were filled with inward/outward connections: my own small moments of discovery and delight, and nourishing conversations with friends that inspired and rejuvenated me.
They were meaningful to me in a way that is hard to convey in a public blog post – I have struggled more to write this one than any others. The moments were so particular that the only real way to write about them would be to go back ten, or fifteen, or thirty years ago, and build from there, where the paths of friendship started.
To Farida, to Shanna, to Ru. Thank you for walking with me.