A Leisurely, Mandatory Stroll

I should really thank my professor for this assignment. It’s too bad all of my grades don’t depend on me getting exercise. If they did, I might eventually fit back into my pre-baby wardrobe, since I’m apparently more dedicated to my GPA than to my waistline. As assigned, a few days ago I took my camera (which usually accompanies me everywhere anyway) with me on a little stroll. As my biggest nemesis is time, I decided to take my leisurely stroll as I walked across campus to my vehicle after class. It was remarkably symbolic for a walk through a parking lot.

I usually walk along the road on campus because it’s paved and it’s easier to walk on than the earth which is pockmarked everywhere by gopher holes. But when an SUV hugging the edge closely seemed poised to hit me, I suddenly felt like an intruder on the roadway. I felt forced up onto the lip of pavement that separates the road from the expanse of field next to it. Where does the person belong on the campus pavement of life? On that narrow meridian between the natural and the artificial? So much these days it seems that the human body balances between those two opposing sides. The wide open field beside the road made me feel exposed. I felt conspicuous, obvious. I wanted to hide in the trees and be a surreptitious observer, rather than the observed. It often amazes me that someone who talks as much as I do can also want to be a recluse as much as I do.

The real me

They're not as far away from the rest of me as they look in this picture.

The pavement equivalent of what is starting to happen to my body since I stopped being twenty-something





My happy place

A flimsy bridge between the made and the unmade



Levitation crossing.



My short walk was surprisingly punctuated by much unexpected wildlife. As I was walking along, deep in thought about the symbolism of the pavement and the field, a grasshopper that looked like a leaf suddenly flew in my face. It had looked just like the other leaves on the ground, and its sudden flight took me completely by surprise. My body actually went momentarily numb because I have a sort of phobia when it comes to hybrid insects. They should either fly or not fly. Also, they should look like an insect or not look like an insect. Looking like a leaf is cheating. But it made me think about what it would be like to be able to have your body be so indistinguishable from the physical environment that you could exist completely unseen and unnoticed. Sometimes I yearn to be a hermit like that. But sometimes I don’t. How long would a person be content with the solitude before feeling compelled to leap into someone’s face just to be acknowledged?

Then there was the adorably rotund bumble bee taking tiny steps along the ground. That’s not where it’s supposed to be, not what its body is designed to do. What is the human body meant to do that it would be completely unnatural to see it not doing? The thin little garter snake that was slithering along a crack at the edge of the roadway was out of its element, too. After my initial shock, I had a moment of compassion for the little guy because I feel out of my element all the time.