I.
For this walk, I felt restricted in my wanderings. I was uncomfortably aware of the need to reflect rather than simply being in the moment. And when I think, was I "present," in my own proceedings? I have to admit that, no, I was mostly divided. I saw, I felt, I heard, and all the time I wanted to translate this into words. But that act of translation, of recording, seems to ruin the experience, no? Or maybe it just leads to other experiences.

While on my “Thoreauvian” walk, I discovered that it’s not necessarily best to have a destination in mind; in fact, I was more self-engaged and contemplative when I didn’t really know where I was going. Time passed more quickly than I had expected to, and I travelled farther than I thought I would have without realizing it. One of the subjects of my paper was defining a boundary, and on my walk, I arrived at the conclusion that in many cases, boundaries aren’t limited to geographical terms, but can also be defined as a diffusion of sensation. As I moved away from campus, I thought less and less about the tribulations of my day and more on subjects that had been moved into the back of my mind — subjects that were surprisingly relevant to my new experiences at college. I also thought a lot about one of the Thoreau’s quotes that troubled me. He explains to his readers that, “if you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother, and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again—if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled your affairs, and you are a free man—then you are ready for a walk”. Although it’s a romantic thought, I find that it’s not a very realistic one. The concluding thought of my paper played with the idea of choosing between humanly love and peace in nature.

First: this campus has some highly strange things in and around it (Moon bench? What?). Second, my version of Thoreauvian walking forced me to notice these weird things that are out and about around me everyday. I didn't have anywhere I was walking to, so my brain and my body began occupying themselves (after about 20 minutes of solid walking) with not what I was going to have for dinner or what I was going to do after I ate, but with the direct stimuli around me. Notable things I found (in a manner of speaking, they weren't lost exactly) were a huge, fat, making-sound-in-the-trees insect in the grass near Brecon (terrifying), a surprising amount of bumperstickers in various parking lots, very few pedestrian sidewalks (sadly..), and a medium-sized, permanent-looking fake boulder plopped down near the entrance to Denbigh. The latter was by far the most provoking thing I had seen all day. Of course, my mind immediately races to the fantastical: hidden pirate treasure from the 18th century colonial days! But really, let's be serious. Why would there be a fake rock anywhere on campus? Question for further thought/action..

As I started my walk my definition of center and border changed.  I began planning out my journey by choosing the Thomas cloisters as a geographic center and the areas near the roads surrounding Bryn Mawr as its borders.  However, as I walked another interpretation of center popped into my head.  Biologically, organisms clump themselves around where there are the most resources.  Typically, there is the most life where there is the most water because most organisms need that to survive.  Humans have partially removed themselves from this practice.  Because we have tools that bring our necessities to us, we look to go to places that satisfy our social or academic needs.  So, as an academic institution, the people of Bryn Mawr center themselves around the buildings where they have classes.  The whole campus is set up with academics at the center.  This is where the most activity happens on week days.  Then, on the weekends, the center shifts to the dorms as students seek to fulfill their social needs.  As the human mind is complex, an idea like center is more complex than mathematical proportions.

When Henry David Thoreau wrote in “Walking,” “How womankind, who are confined to the house still more than men, stand it I do not know; but I have ground to suspect that most of them do not STAND it at all,” he must have been referring to Mawrtyrs. We have a keen ability to sit in hard chairs all day, perhaps in their carrels in Canaday or Carpenter or around a table in a classroom, pouring over textbooks or activating Serendip. And this is not always a choice because of the pure rigor of our environment. (Welcome to senior year.) We tend to exercise our minds more than our legs. And often, we our brains are so exhausted that when we do walk, it is the distance from our desks to our beds.

Since today is Sunday, a day free of classes, I decided to take a break from my studies and meander across campus. Bryn Mawr truly is beautiful, especially in the sunshine. All jokes aside, I love talking walks around campus and do it often: to clear my mind, to be freed from the Internet and my vastly growing collection of academic articles, to simply revel in the splendor of greenery on Senior Row, behind Ermdan, or in front of Rhoads. I also enjoy gazing at the bold and beautiful buildings of Bryn Mawr. Thoreau writes, “Then it is that I appreciate the beauty and the glory of architecture, which itself never turns in, but forever stands out and erect, keeping watch over the slumberers.” I can say the same.

I chose this photograph because it speaks also to the silence imposed upon one’s self, the limitations we may feel in forming the opinions we do

or do not voice. This past week I have had several realizations leading ultimately into an epiphany about the way silence plays a role in my life, and how it will continue to affect my interactions with classmates in this 360.

I recently come to restructure how I believe epiphanies form, in that I no longer see an epiphany as a sudden realization. Instead I recognize it as a gradual process, one that takes into account multiple realizations and experiences. Often I will discover a piece of an epiphany through my surroundings, or an experience, or another person. Eventually, those small pieces accumulation into a full actualization; into a moment of clarity generally categorized as the epiphany. However, the pieces leading into that moment are crucial and inseparable from the mean

As I traveled around campus and tried to imitate a Thoreauvian Walk my brain was unusually peaceful. All my school work seemed to fade away and whatever was plaguing my mind at the time was put on hold. When all these extra thoughts fell away I was much more aware of my inner monologue and the thoughts I contemplated during my walk. Why is everyone always rushing? I know that I do it too, but why must we live in a world of dates and deadlines that cause excess amounts of stress? I was not able to answer this question because ironically I had to be at the gym for a volleyball practice and was almost late.

I also thought about the different perspectives of each individual person and how their normal routes on campus only give them one personal view. My walk consists of leaving Rock, walking to Erdman or Haffner, then to my classes (in Thomas, Taylor, Park), back to lunch, to the gym, dinner, and lastly to my room. This walk is all very centralized and rarely do I walk along the edges of campus to see whats there. During my walk, I did walk behind Goodhart and found a ledge or patio that ran along the side of the building. My initial thoughts we "How beautiful". Then as I thought more deeply it occured to me that someone with classes in Goodhart was most likely fully aware of this picturesque view and had probably seen it on a regular basis. This concept of relative perspective has spurred my want to explore more of Bryn Mawr's campus.

I had done an assignment similar to this one in my senior year of highschool, where I was told to go out and experience something new and write an essay about it. That assignment was not difficult for me and so I thought this one wouldn’t be either. But it turns out that this assignment was difficult for me. I think the reason lies in one key difference - I wasn’t writing while I was walking ( for my high school assignment I wrote while I was experiencing the new experience). I think the point of this assignment was to experience the walk fully, and then to separately write about it. I found it hard to separate the walking from writing about (or preparing to write about) the walking. I found it necessary to take notes while I walked, but also found that note taking pulled my attention away from the present, and pushed it into the future where I would be sitting down to write. I wonder if it is possible to fully experience something while at the same time trying to document it. For now I think the answer is that it is not possible. 

My essay differed from Thoreau's in that I wasn’t urging anyone to go out for a walk, or trying to convince the reader that walking is a necessary part of life. Instead I was writing about my thoughts and experiences from one particular walk. My walk differed from a Thoreauvian walk in that I was unable to completely escape from my obligations to society. They clung to me and I clung to them.