Saving the American Soul from Total Surrender to Materialism Starts with Walking

Walker/hero

Walker/hero

I used to think animals were better than people and cars were the ultimate evil. I still think baby animals are cuter than most people, but who doesn’t? Maybe the people who club baby seals . . . hmm. But the mind tends to wander when you walk–alone–without a blue tooth in your ear.

Riches never bothered him.
Riches never bothered him.

Did you know that Theodore Roosevelt walked thirteen miles a day for fun with his kids? I tried a walk with my kids (one mile) and it goes down forever in their minds as the forced march. Even our dog had to be carried off the nature trail, foaming at the mouth.

As a kid my parents kept weird hours. We’d get up, feed ourselves then leave for the day as far as our feet would take us. I went to the polluted Hackensack River mostly and mourned the occasional dead fish, throwing my muddy little fist up towards God who created death and chemicals. I’d sit on a moss covered spot for what seemed like hours under a tree overhanging the sad river and contemplate things 7-year-olds contemplate–death, loving your enemies even when they throw Pepsi cans in the river and why school was invented to enslave innocent children.

Am I going to get to the 19th century with all of this? Okay, calm down, this is a meandering walk/post. Theodore Roosevelt swam across the Potomac. Can you imagine? My mother swam in the Hudson the day before they put up signs saying the pollution had won and swimmers had lost.

Bearded wonder . . .
Bearded wonder . . .

Walkers are great. They’re not intense fitness joggers who look like they’re dying and wear stupid clothes. They’re not cyclists constantly veering out of the bike lane (need I say anything about their clothes?). Walkers think. They stop when a golden retriever crosses their path. They have time to note the beaver swimming in the canal beside the towpath. They’re almost as cool as shepherds.

Back in the good old 19th century, places with names like Tannersville and Gloversville really messed with the rivers making gloves and tanning leather with BAD chemicals. But there were cool walkers back then, too.

John Muir not only had the whole beard thing going on, he really was the GUY who convinced Theodore Roosevelt to save some great walking spots from the constant onslaught of materialist land grabbers (hey, we all do this–we live in houses or apartments on land that used to be wild–downtown Manhattan streets follow the deer and Indian trails of long ago). John walked 1000 miles just for the hell of it from Indiana to Florida and wrote about it in A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf. He didn’t do a blog tour and never made much money in life, but he didn’t seem to care. His passion was wild. When he finally married and settled onto his wife’s orchard she’d laugh when that look came over him and shoo him up to the mountains where he’d spend nights in swaying pine trees as sudden storms whipped through the forest.

John’s father beat him as a kid and forced him to memorize the Bible. Did the psalms about the wonder of creation come to mind as he roamed? He wrote his own psalms. The words and actions of his life offer profound insight into stewardship. Speaking of sight, he was blinded for a time when working at a sawmill led to an eye injury: “This affliction has driven me to the sweet fields. God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons.” Very true words, Mr. Muir.

Imagine a country so young that rules and regulations and super highway systems didn’t choke off the walkers’ vast possibilities? Sure there were Indians, but usually these meetings were fairly harmless. Muir’s first experience with them led to his favorite horse being stolen, but the further west he went the more he grew to have at least a grudging respect–for some of them (and why must we cage people by their ethnicity or praise them for it either?).

Muir with Burroughs.
Muir with Burroughs.

When he walked he read Emerson and when he read Emerson he wanted more walking. In the end his love affair with creation and its beautiful wildness in America saved bits and pieces of it for us. Walk on, you walkers. You bless the world more than you know.

http://www.pbs.org/nationalparks/people/historical/muir/

12 thoughts on “Saving the American Soul from Total Surrender to Materialism Starts with Walking

      • Yes. Many. Currently, my sunrise walks around the lakes of Minneapolis have proven very inspiring, far more than I would have ever imagined arising in an urban environment. Another perennial favorite: the hike up to the top of Eagle Mountain in northern Minnesota. More along the Minnesota and Mississippi rivers & North Shore of Lake Superior. And others further afield. And you?

        Like

      • I used to walk my dog in the rain at night. I don’t know why I loved it but I did. I live in a beautiful part of Upstate NY so everywhere I walk is amazing, but there’s a shaded stream down the dirt road by us. It so peaceful there.

        Like

      • In 1980 I did a bicycle trip from Minnesota to the coast of Maine. Took the transcanada Hwy from Sault St Marie to Ottawa. Came down from Ottawa to Ogdensburg, NY. Stayed at a youth hostel in Lake Placid. Biked through the Adirondacks. Beautiful country. Took the ferry across Lake Champlain to VT. I envy your landscape in which everywhere you walk is amazing. Your favorite walk sounds lovely.

        Like

  1. Great post! I love to walk ~ it is so refreshing. I like to ride my bike ~ not a mountain, just a red bike with a wire basket on the front. I ride in my skirts with a hat (with flowers on it) on!!

    Like

  2. “it goes down forever in their minds as the forced march. Even our dog had to be carried off the nature trail, foaming at the mouth.” LOL

    Something I’ve thought about – in fact, entertained for a post. Not only the vastness to walk yesteryear but the space for free play and exploration. We shelter our kids physically in many ways nowadays (bc we need to, given the rise in crime, the sheer infrastructure of the land, as you mentioned) but we’ve lost something in the organic connection with land and air that impacts less of childhood today than it once did.

    Enjoyed the post, A.

    Like

    • I think the media has created a bit of safety hysteria in our generation. I remember reading a book entitled something like, “The Good Old Days and Why They weren’t So Good.” It mentioned the fear people had of hobos running off with children as they walked in the woods. I always wondered if some of them were Civil War veterans. I think we too often protect our kids from life–and steal the fun. 🙂

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s