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We Treat Desire As A Problem To Be Solved, Address What Desire Is For And Focus On That Something And How To Acquire It Rather Than On The Nature And The Sensation Of Desire, Though Often It Is The Desire Between Us And The Object Of Desire That Fills The Space In Between With The Blue Of Longing.

-Rebecca Solnit

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We Treat Desire As

Rebecca Solnit

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We Treat Desire As A Problem To Be Solved, Address What Desire Is For And Focus On That Something And How To Acquire It Rather Than On The Nature And The Sensation Of Desire, Though Often It Is The Desire Between Us And The Object Of Desire That Fills The Space In Between With The Blue Of Longing.

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The Great Majority Of People Are Calm, Resourceful, Altruistic Or Even Beyond Altruistic, As They Risk Themselves For Others. We Improvise The Conditions Of Survival Beautifully.

That's What I'm Trying To Get Over: The Idea That Anarchism Offers A Description Of Equitable Relations That Go Way Back Rather Than A Hypothesis Of What The Future Should Look Like.

Walkers Are 'practitioners Of The City,' For The City Is Made To Be Walked. A City Is A Language, A Repository Of Possibilities, And Walking Is The Act Of Speaking That Language, Of Selecting From Those Possibilities. Just As Language Limits What Can Be Said, Architecture Limits Where One Can Walk, But The Walker Invents Other Ways To Go.

A Path Is A Prior Interpretation Of The Best Way To Traverse A Landscape.

We Are Entering An Era Of Heightened Disaster, Thanks To Climate Change. Being Prepared For Disaster Will Mean Being Prepared To Sift Truth From Rumour, And Being Prepared To Adjust Our Worldview.

Credibility Is A Basic Survival Tool.

Perhaps It’s That You Can’t Go Back In Time, But You Can Return To The Scenes Of A Love, Of A Crime, Of Happiness, And Of A Fatal Decision; The Places Are What Remain, Are What You Can Possess, Are What Is Immortal. They Become The Tangible Landscape Of Memory, The Places That Made You, And In Some Way You Too Become Them. They Are What You Can Possess And In The End What Possesses You.

Perhaps Walking Is Best Imagined As An 'indicator Species,' To Use An Ecologist's Term. An Indicator Species Signifies The Health Of An Ecosystem, And Its Endangerment Or Diminishment Can Be An Early Warning Sign Of Systemic Trouble. Walking Is An Indicator Species For Various Kinds Of Freedom And Pleasures: Free Time, Free And Alluring Space, And Unhindered Bodies.

The Oil Dinosaurs Want To Win So Badly In My Home State Because What Happens Here Matters Everywhere. The Nation Often Follows Where California Goes.

Kindness And Gentleness Never Had A Gender, And Neither Did Empathy.

For Me, Before I Learned How To Read I Was Really Interested In Story And In Landscape And Nature. I Decided To Become A Writer Almost As Soon As I Learned To Read.

Language Is Like A Road, It Cannot Be Perceived All At Once Because It Unfolds In Time, Whether Heard Or Read. This Narrative Or Temporal Element Has Made Writing And Walking Resemble Each Other.

There Are Infinite Shades Of Grey. Writing Often Appears So Black And White.

Black And White

I'm Grateful That, After An Early Life Of Being Silenced, Sometimes Violently, I Grew Up To Have A Voice, Circumstances That Will Always Bind Me To The Rights Of The Voiceless.

I Think One Of The Primary Goals Of A Feminist Landscape Architecture Would Be To Work Toward A Public Landscape In Which We Can Roam The Streets At Midnight, In Which Every Square Is Available For Virginia Woolf To Make Up Her Novels

I Still Think The Revolution Is To Make The World Safe For Poetry, Meandering, For The Frail And Vulnerable, The Rare And Obscure, The Impractical And Local And Small.

It Is The Job Of Artists To Open Doors And Invite In Prophesies, The Unknown, The Unfamiliar; It’s Where Their Work Comes From, Although Its Arrival Signals The Beginning Of The Long Disciplined Process Of Making It Their Own. Scientists Too, As J. Robert Oppenheimer Once Remarked, ‘live Always At The ‘edge Of Mystery’—the Boundary Of The Unknown.’ But They Transform The Unknown Into The Known, Haul It In Like Fishermen; Artists Get You Out Into That Dark Sea.

You Write Your Books. You Scatter Your Seeds. Rats Might Eat Them, Or They Might Rot. In California, Some Seeds Lie Dormant For Decades Because They Only Germinate After Fire, And Sometimes The Burned Landscape Blooms Most Lavishly.

Beauty Is Often Spoken Of As Though It Only Stirs Lust Or Admiration, But The Most Beautiful People Are So In A Way That Makes Them Look Like Destiny Or Fate Or Meaning, The Heroes Of A Remarkable Story.

We Are Often In Two Places At Once. In Fact We Are Usually In At Least Two Places And Occasionally The Contrast Is Evident....here, Most Often, Is Nothing More Than The Best Perspective To Contemplate There.

An Aptitude Test Established Architecture As An Alternative [career]. But What Decided The Matter For [teddy Cruz] Was The Sight Of A Fourth-year Architecture Student Sitting At His Desk At A Window, Drawing And Nursing A Cup Of Coffee As Rain Fell Outside. 'i Don't Know, I Just Liked The Idea Of Having This Relationship To The Paper And The Adventure Of Imagining The Spaces. That Was The First Image That Captured Me.

There Is No One As Dangerous As He Or She Who Has Nothing To Lose.

Nothing To Lose

The Poet Marianne Moore Famously Wrote Of 'real Toads In Imaginary Gardens,' And The Labyrinth Offers Us The Possibility Of Being Real Creatures In Symbolic Space...in Such Spaces As The Labyrinth We Cross Over [between Real And Imaginary Spaces]; We Are Really Travelling, Even If The Destination Is Only Symbolic.

Pain Serves A Purpose. Without It You Are In Danger. What You Cannot Feel You Cannot Take Care Of.

We Make Ourselves Large Or Small, Here Or There, In Our Empathies.

The Art Is Not One Of Forgetting But Letting Go. And When Everything Else Is Gone, You Can Be Rich In Loss.

...the Gym Is A Kind Of Wildlife Preserve For Bodily Exertion. A Preserve Protects Species Whose Habitat Is Vanishing Elsewhere, And The Gym (and Home Gym) Accommodates The Survival Of Bodies After The Abandonment Of The Original Sites Of Bodily Exertion.

Time Itself Is Our Tragedy And Most Of Us Are Fighting Some Kind Of War Against It.

Exploring The World Is One Of The Best Ways Of Exploring The Mind, And Walking Travels Both Terrains.

Exploring The World

At A Certain Fork In The Road Of Automatization, Europeans Chose To Have More Time, And They Work Far Less Than We Do And Get Much Longer Vacations. We Chose To Have More Stuff, The Stuff Sold To Us Through Those Beckoning Adjectives-bigger, Better, Faster: Jet Skis, Extra Cars, Second Homes, Motor Homes, Towering Slab Tvs, If Not The Time To Enjoy Them Or To Enjoy Less Commodified Pleasures.

A Place Is A Story, And Stories Are Geography, And Empathy Is First Of All An Act Of Imagination, A Storyteller's Art, And Then A Way Of Traveling From Here To There.

To Lose Yourself: A Voluptuous Surrender, Lost In Your Arms, Lost To The World, Utterly Immersed In What Is Present So That Its Surroundings Fade Away. In Benjamin’s Terms, To Be Lost Is To Be Fully Present, And To Be Fully Present Is To Be Capable Of Being In Uncertainty And Mystery.

Memory, Even In The Rest Of Us, Is A Shifting, Fading, Partial Thing, A Net That Doesn't Catch All The Fish By Any Means And Sometimes Catches Butterflies That Don't Exist.

I've Been Gratified To See Over The Twenty Or So Years Of My Writing Life The West Become Less Of A Colony Of The East; Maybe New Technologies And Too Much Travel Undermine The Idea Of Provinciality.

I Was Not Going To Surrender To The Status Quo And Corporate Insistence That Ordinary People Have No Power And Influence.

Before Writers Are Writers They Are Readers, Living In Books, Through Books, In The Lives Of Others That Are Also The Heads Of Others, In That Act That Is So Intimate And Yet So Alone.

...[cabeza De Vaca] Ceased To Be Lost Not By Returning But By Turning Into Something Else.

The Desire To Go Home That Is A Desire To Be Whole, To Know Where You Are, To Be The Point Of Intersection Of All The Lines Drawn Through All The Stars, To Be The Constellation-maker And The Center Of The World, That Center Called Love. To Awaken From Sleep, To Rest From Awakening, To Tame The Animal, To Let The Soul Go Wild, To Shelter In Darkness And Blaze With Light, To Cease To Speak And Be Perfectly Understood.

We Have Only The Language For Fun And Miserable, And Maybe We Need Language For Deep And Shallow, Meaningful And Meaningless.

Sense Of Place Is The Sixth Sense, An Internal Compass And Map Made By Memory And Spatial Perception Together.

...the Questions A Photographer Raises May Be More Profound Than The Answers The Medium Permits.

Roads Are A Record Of Those Who Have Gone Before.

Modern Life Is Moving Faster Than The Speed Of Thought, Or Thoughtfulness.

Sometimes A Few Passionate People Change The World; Sometimes They Start A Mass Movement And Millions Do.

Space--as Landscape, Terrain, Spectacle, Experience--has Vanished.

How Will You Go About Finding That Thing The Nature Of Which Is Totally Unknown To You?

Walking, Ideally, Is A State In Which The Mind, The Body, And The World Are Aligned.

For Me The Insurrectionary Possibilities Of Disaster Are What Make Them Really Interesting And Sometimes Positive - Mexico City's Big 1985 Earthquake Brought A Lot Of Positive, Populist, Anti-institutional Social Change.

A City Always Contains More Than Any Inhabitant Can Know, And A Great City Always Makes The Unknown And The Possible Spurs To The Imagination.

Solitude In The City Is About The Lack Of Other People Or Rather Their Distance Beyond A Door Or Wall, But In Remote Places It Isn’t An Absence But The Presence Of Something Else, A Kind Of Humming Silence In Which Solitude Seems As Natural To Your Species As To Any Other, Words Strange Rocks You May Or May Not Turn Over.

There Was An Assumption That Aerial Bombing Of Civilians In World War Ii Would Cause Fragile, Working-class People To Basically Have Nervous Breakdowns And It Would Paralyze The State. That Was The Logic Of Aerial Bombing. In Fact, It Doesn't Happen At All, But The Logic Behind Aerial Bombing Has Never Stopped, Even Though It Never Demoralizes, Terrorizes, Or Paralyzes A Population.

Violence Always Seems To Me The Worst Form Of Tyranny. It Deprives People Of Their Rights, Including The Right To Live.

A Lone Peak Of High Point Is A Natural Focal Point In The Landscape, Something By Which Both Travelers And Local Orient Themselves. In The Continuum Of Landscape, Mountains Are Discontinuity -- Culminating In High Points, Natural Barriers, Unearthly Earth.

Revolution Is A Phase, A Mood, Like Spring, And Just As Spring Has Its Buds And Showers, So Revolution Has Its Ebullience, Its Bravery, Its Hope, And Its Solidarity. Some Of These Things Pass.

The Earth We Evolved To Inhabit Is Turning Into Something More Turbulent And Unreliable At A Pace Too Fast For Most Living Things To Adapt To.

You Get Lost Out Of A Desire To Be Lost. But In The Place Called Lost Strange Things Are Found.

It's Hardly Surprising That The Corporate Aliens Lie When It Comes To The Relationship Between Doing Something About Climate Change And The Economy.

The Magic Of The Street Is The Mingling Of The Errand And The Epiphany.

If Gold Has Been Prized Because It Is The Most Inert Element, Changeless And Incorruptible, Water Is Prized For The Opposite Reason -- Its Fluidity, Mobility, Changeability That Make It A Necessity And A Metaphor For Life Itself. To Value Gold Over Water Is To Value Economy Over Ecology, That Which Can Be Locked Up Over That Which Connects All Things.

[in Mountaineering, If] We Look For Private Experience Rather Than Public History, Even Getting To The Top Becomes An Optional Narrative Rather Than The Main Point, And Those Who Only Wander In High Places Become Part Of The Story.

When Someone Doesn't Show Up, The People Who Wait Sometimes Tell Stories About What Might Have Happened And Come To Half Believe The Desertion, The Abduction, The Accident. Worry Is A Way To Pretend That You Have Knowledge Or Control Over What You Don't--and It Surprises Me, Even In Myself, How Much We Prefer Ugly Scenarios To The Pure Unknown. Perhaps Fantasy Is What You Fill Up Maps With Rather Than Saying That They Too Contain The Unknown.

Sometimes It Seems That The Fate Of The World Is Decided Entirely In The Ether Of Electronic Communications And Corporate Backroom Deals.

Everywhere People Are At Work To Build A Better World In Which We - And Some Of The Beauty Of This World - Will Be Guaranteed To Survive. Everywhere They Are At War With The Forces Threatening Us And The Planet.

People Rescue Each Other. They Build Shelters And Community Kitchens And Ways To Deal With Lost Children And Eventually Rebuild One Way Or Another.

I Sometimes Wonder What Those Of Us Who Are Writers Would Become In A Nonliterary Culture - Storytellers? Hermits?

The Bigness Of The World Is Redemption. Despair Compresses You Into A Small Space, And A Depression Is Literally A Hollow In The Ground. To Dig Deeper Into The Self, To Go Underground, Is Sometimes Necessary, But So Is The Other Route Of Getting Out Of Yourself, Into The Larger World, Into The Openness In Which You Need Not Clutch Your Story And Your Troubles So Tightly To Your Chest.

It's All About A War Of Social Impulses And Beliefs That Is As Powerful In Its Way As A Big Hurricane.

....there Are Three Prerequisites To Going Out Into The World To Walk For Pleasure. One Must Have Free Time, A Place To Go, And A Body Unhindered By Illness Or Social Restraints.

A Lone Walker Is Both Present And Detached, More Than An Audience But Less Than A Participant. Walking Assuages Or Legitimizes This Alienation.

For Me, Being In A Car Or On An Airplane Is Like Being In Limbo. It's This Dead Zone Between Two Places. But To Walk, You're Some Place That's Already Interesting. You're Not Just Between Places. Things Are Happening.

Every Minute Of Every Hour Of Every Day You Are Making The World, Just As You Are Making Yourself, And You Might As Well Do It With Generosity And Kindness And Style.

It Turns Out That We're Actually Capable Of Something Other Than Neoliberalism And Actually We're Really Capable Of Enjoying Ourselves More Than We Do Under Neoliberalism. It Feels That If Neoliberalism Is First About Privatizing Desire And Imagination Before The Economy, Then We're In This Process Of Publicizing It Again.

The Promenade Is A Special Subset Of Walking.

I Often Think That The Reason Capitalism Hasn't Completely Destroyed Everything Is That A Huge Amount Of Anti-capitalist Endeavor Goes On, From Labors Of Love, Nurture, Friendship, And Barter To Gift Economies And Different Kinds Of Exchanges, Not Just One Alternate Model But A Whole Host Of Other Ways In Which We Engage With Each Other And With The World That Aren't Financial And Debt-based.

When I Think About, Say, 1995, Or Whever The Last Moment Was Before Most Of Us Were On The Internet And Had Mobile Phones, It Seems Like A Hundred Years Ago. ... Time Passed In Fairly Large Units, Or At Least Not In Milliseconds And Constant Updates. A Few Hours Wasn't Such A Long Time To Go Between Moments Of Contact With Your Work, Your People Or Your Trivia.

Anarchists Believe That We Can Govern Ourselves In The Absence Of Coercive And Centralized Authority; The Underlying Premise About Human Nature (to Use An Infinitely Problematized But Necessary Term Here) Is Fundamentally Positive. And The Evidence That In Disasters People Are Really Pretty Kind, Generous, Brave, Resourceful And Creative Fed That.

A Restlessness Has Seized Hold Of Many Of Us, A Sense That We Should Be Doing Something Else, No Matter What We Are Doing, Or Doing At Least Two Things At Once, Or Going To Check Some Other Medium. It's An Anxiety About Keeping Up, About Not Being Left Out Or Getting Behind.

Walking Shares With Making And Working That Crucial Element Of Engagement Of The Body And The Mind With The World, Of Knowing The World Through The Body And The Body Through The World.

The Things We Want Are Transformative, And We Don’t Know Or Only Think We Know What Is On The Other Side Of That Transformation Never To Get Lost Is Not To Live.

As For Me, The Grounds Of My Hope Have Always Been That History Is Wilder Than Our Imagination Of It And That The Unexpected Shows Up Far More Regularly Than We Ever Dream.

Activism Is Not A Journey To The Corner Store. It Is A Plunge Into The Unknown. The Future Is Always Dark.

I Grew Up With Landscape As A Recourse, With The Possibility Of Exiting The Horizontal Realm Of Social Relations For A Vertical Alignment With Earth And Sky, Matter And Spirit. Vast Open Spaces Speak Best To This Craving, The Spaces I Myself First Found In The Desert And Then In The Western Grasslands.

You Don't Have To Be A Preacher To Talk About What Matters, And You Don't Have To Drop The Pleasures Of Style

I Roam Around A Lot In My Territory, But What I Learn At One End Inflects And Opens Up My Understanding At The Other.

To Write Is To Carve A New Path Through The Terrain Of The Imagination, Or To Point Out New Features On A Familiar Route. To Read Is To Travel Through That Terrain With The Author As A Guide-- A Guide One Might Not Always Agree With Or Trust, But Who Can At Least Be Counted On To Take One Somewhere.

The Object We Call A Book Is Not The Real Book, But Its Potential, Like A Musical Score Or Seed. It Exists Fully Only In The Act Of Being Read; And Its Real Home Is Inside The Head Of The Reader, Where The Symphony Resounds, The Seed Germinates. A Book Is A Heart That Only Beats In The Chest Of Another.

Hope Is Not A Lottery Ticket You Can Sit On The Sofa And Clutch, Feeling Lucky. It Is An Axe You Break Down Doors With In An Emergency. Hope Should Shove You Out The Door, Because It Will Take Everything You Have To Steer The Future Away From Endless War, From The Annihilation Of The Earth's Treasures And The Grinding Down Of The Poor And Marginal. To Hope Is To Give Yourself To The Future - And That Commitment To The Future Is What Makes The Present Inhabitable.

In The Bare Room Under The Old Library On The Hill In The Town At The Tip Of The Small Peninsula On The Cold Island So Far From Everything Else, I Lived Among Strangers And Birds.

We Are Moving Into A World Of Unaccountable And Secretive Corporations That Manage All Our Communications And Work Hand In Hand With Governments To Make Us Visible To Them. Our Privacy Is Being Strip-mined And Hoarded.

As I Started To Pursue The Subject More Deeply I Realized That Walking Was This Wonderful Meandering Path Through Everything I Was Already Interested In - Gender Politics, Public Space And Urban Life, Demonstrations And Parades And Marches. The Relationship Between Walking And Thinking And Between The Mind And The Body.

We Fly; We Dream In Darkness; We Devour Heaven In Bites Too Small To Be Measured.

A Lot Of People Think Of Political Activism As Some Grim Duty, And I Think We Do Have An Obligation To Be Citizens - To Be Informed And Engaged.

Joy Doesn't Betray But Sustains Activism. And When You Face A Politics That Aspires To Make You Fearful, Alienated And Isolated, Joy Is A Fine Initial Act Of Insurrection.

The Oil Corporations Spend A Lot Of Money To Get, Say, The Tar Sands Pipeline Through, But Nobody's - You Know, There Are Definitely Environmentalists Being Paid - But A Lot Of People Are Acting For Something Other Than Financial Compensation. So If The Tar Sands Pipeline Doesn't Get Made, It's Because A Huge Amount Of People Are Doing Something That Doesn't Involve Remuneration, Money, Etc., Because We're Not Actually The Self-interested Financial Instruments That Economists Like To Imagine We Are.

To Be Hopeful Means To Be Uncertain About The Future, To Be Tender Toward Possibilities, To Be Dedicated To Change All The Way Down To The Bottom Of Your Heart.

Walking Articulates Both Physical And Mental Freedom.

Every Walker Is A Guard On Patrol To Protect The Ineffable.

Globally, As The Nation-state Becomes Increasingly Less Meaningful - A Provider Of Positive Goods And More And More Just An Army And Some Domestic Enforcement - People Are Withdrawing To Shape And Support More Localised Forms Of Organisation And Power. To The Extent That It's Part Of That Civilised And Localising World, The Same Is True Of The U.s.

For Me, Childhood Roaming Was What Developed Self-reliance, A Sense Of Direction And Adventure, Imagination, A Will To Explore, To Be Able To Get A Little Lost And Then Figure Out The Way Back.

The Stars We Are Given. The Constellations We Make. That Is To Say, Stars Exist In The Cosmos, But Constellations Are The Imaginary Lines We Draw Between Them, The Readings We Give The Sky, The Stories We Tell.

The Subject Of Walking Is, In Some Sense, About How We Invest Universal Acts With Particular Meanings. Like Eating Or Breathing, It Can Be Invested With Wildly Different Cultural Meanings, From The Erotic To The Spiritual, From The Revolutionary To The Artistic.

I Don't Think My Work Has To Be Loved By Everyone, And It's Loved By Enough People That I'm Grateful And Able To Keep Going.

Everyday Life Is A Disaster, And Disaster Can Liberate Us.

No One Is Born A Writer; Literacy Is A Peculiar Mode Of Being, But I Was All About Stories From A Very Early Age, Before Reading.

I Think That Fear Of The Mob, The Expectation That People, Particularly Poor And Nonwhite People Become Mobs Almost Automatically In The Absence Of Coercive Authority, Is Inculcated By The Media, The Movies, And Politicians.

Never Turn Down An Adventure Without A Really Good Reason.

What Is Kind Of Beautiful About Katrina Is That Even Though The Media And Officials Are Working Hard At Telling Us Everyone In New Orleans Was A Monster, In The Immediate Aftermath More Than 200,000 People Invite Displaced Strangers Into Their Homes Through Hurricanehousing.org And An Uncounted Horde Go To New Orleans And The Gulf Coast To Give, To Love, To Be In Solidarity, And To Rebuild.

Perhaps The Central Question About [eliot] Porter's Work Is About The Relationship Between Science, Aesthetics, And Environmental Politics. His Brother, The Painter And Critic Fairfield Porter, Wrote In A 1960 Review Of [porter's] Colour Photographs: 'there Is No Subject And Background, Every Corner Is Alive,' And This Suggests What An Ecological Aesthetic Might Look Like.

How Do You Calculate Upon The Unforeseen? It Seems To Be An Art Of Recognizing The Role Of The Unforeseen, Of Keeping Your Balance Amid Surprises, Of Collaborating With Chance, Of Recognizing That There Are Some Essential Mysteries In The World And Thereby A Limit To Calculation, To Plan, To Control. To Calculate On The Unforeseen Is Perhaps Exactly The Paradoxical Operation That Life Most Requires Of Us.

I Was Fifteen, And When I Picture Myself Then, I See Flames Shooting Up, See Myself Falling Off The Edge Of The World, And Am Amazed I Survived Not The Outside World But The Inside One.

Getting Lost Was Not A Matter Of Geography So Much As Identity, A Passionate Desire, Even An Urgent Need, To Become No One And Anyone, To Shake Off The Shackles That Remind You Who You Are, Who Others Think You Are.

Passionate Desire

We Treat Desire As A Problem To Be Solved, Address What Desire Is For And Focus On That Something And How To Acquire It Rather Than On The Nature And The Sensation Of Desire, Though Often It Is The Desire Between Us And The Object Of Desire That Fills The Space In Between With The Blue Of Longing.

To Hope Is To Give Yourself To The Future - And That Commitment To The Future Is What Makes The Present Inhabitable.

What's Your Story? It's All In The Telling. Stories Are Compasses And Architecture; We Navigate By Them, And To Be Without A Story Is To Be Lost In The Vastness Of World That Spreads In All Directions Like Arctic Tundra Or Sea Ice. To Love Someone Is To Put Yourself In Their Place, We Say, Which Is To Put Yourself In Their Story, Or Figure Out How To Tell Yourself Their Story. Which Means That A Place Is A Story, And Stories Are Geography, And Empathy Is First Of All An Act Of Imagination, A Storyteller's Art, And Then A Way Of Traveling From Here To There.

No Matter How Deeply You Come To Know A Place, You Can Keep Coming Back To Know It More.

If You Look At A Lot Of Traditional Societies, They're All Organized Along What We Might Call Anarchist Guidelines, But It's Not Like The Zapatistas Were Reading European Social Theory.

I Think That Walking Down The Middle Of The Street With Several Thousand People Who Share Your Deepest Beliefs Is One Of The Best Ways To Take A Walk.

Italian Cities Have Long Been Held Up As Ideals, Not Least By New Yorkers And Londoners Enthralled By The Ways Their Architecture Gives Beauty And Meaning To Everyday Acts.

Violence Doesn't Have A Race, A Class, A Religion, Or A Nationality, But It Does Have A Gender.

There Is So Much Information That Our Ability To Focus On Any Piece Of It Is Interrupted By Other Information, So That We Bathe In Information But Hardly Absorb Or Analyse It. Data Are Interrupted By Other Data Before We've Thought About The First Round, And Contemplating Three Streams Of Data At Once May Be A Way To Think About None Of Them.

[on The] Question Of Why We Might Want To Look At Images Even More Than The Real Thing: I Think There Is Some Quality When You Look At An Image Of, Not Only Seeing This Thing, Whether It's The Horse Or The Sky, But You Are Seeing Somebody Point At It And Say, Look!

Perfection Is A Stick With Which To Beat The Possible.

There Are Those Who Receive As Birthright An Adequate Or At Least Unquestioned Sense Of Self And Those Who Set Out To Reinvent Themselves, For Survival Or For Satisfaction, And Travel Far. Some People Inherit Values And Practices As A House They Inhabit; Some Of Us Have To Burn Down That House, Find Our Own Ground, Build From Scratch, Even As A Psychological Metamorphosis.

We Know Less When We Erroneously Think We Know Than When We Recognize That We Don't.

There Are Fossils Of Seashells High In The Himalayas; What Was And What Is Are Different Things.

I Feel Like We're In A Truly Revolutionary Period, Not Just In Terms Of Practical Activities To Overthrow Regimes In The Middle East Or Occupy But Also In Terms Of Radical Redefinitions. I Feel Like Workers Are A Big Part Of It, But There's So Much More Going On.

In A Sense The Car Has Become A Prosthetic, And Though Prosthetics Are Usually For Injured Or Missing Limbs, The Auto-prosthetic Is For A Conceptually Impaired Body Or A Body Impaired By The Creation Of A World That Is No Longer Human In Scale.

The Present Rearranges The Past. We Never Tell The Story Whole Because A Life Isn't A Story; It's A Whole Milky Way Of Events And We Are Forever Picking Out Constellations From It To Fit Who And Where We Are.

The Poor Have Often Been Subversive Just Because They Don't Always Believe Their Own Depiction As Brutes And Loafers And Leeches, And New Economy Is Making Lots More Poor Or Recognize Their Fellowship With The Insecurity Of The Poor, The Portion Of The Population For Whom The System Does Not Work.

Politics Is Pervasive. Everything Is Political And The Choice To Be "apolitical" Is Usually Just An Endorsement Of The Status Quo And The Unexamined Life.

More And More I Think Of Privatisation As Being Not Just About The Takeover Of Resources And Power By Corporate Interests, But As The Retreat Of Citizens To Private Life And Private Space, Screened From Solidarity With Strangers And Increasingly Afraid Or Even Unable To Imagine Acting In Public.

In The Aftermath Of 9/11, People Had Not A Good Time, But A Deep, Profound, Rousing Time, Woke Up From Their Ennui And Isolation And Trivialization To Feel Engaged, Connected, Purposeful, Ready To Give, To Engage, To Care, To Learn.

Too Many Of Us Seem Far Too Fond Of Narratives Of Our Powerlessness, Maybe Because Powerlessness Lets Us Off The Hook... But We Don't Need Everyone On Board; We Don't Need One Magic Person In Office; We Need Ourselves. To Act. It's The Wind, Not The Weathervanes.

There's Enough Food In This World. There's Enough Housing In This World. There's Enough Shelter In This World. There's Enough Clothing In This World. There's Enough Teachers, There's Enough Universities For Everybody's Needs To Be Met, And The Reasons They Aren't Is Not Because Of Lack Of Resources. It's Because Of Distribution, And That's The Politics Of Hate, Which Is Why This Is A Movement Against That. It's A Politics Of Love.

How Will You Go About Finding That Thing The Nature Of Which Is Totally Unknown To You?" (plato) The Things We Want Are Transformative, And We Don’t Know Or Only Think We Know What Is On The Other Side Of That Transformation. Love, Wisdom, Grace, Inspiration- How Do You Go About Finding These Things That Are In Some Ways About Extending The Boundaries Of The Self Into Unknown Territory, About Becoming Someone Else?

I'm A Big Fan Of The Vigor Of Civil Society, Political Engagement, And Public Life In Many Parts Of Latin America.

Hope Is Not Like A Lottery Ticket You Can Sit On The Sofa And Clutch, Feeling Lucky.... Hope Is An Ax You Break Down Doors With In An Emergency.

Musing Takes Place In A Kind Of Meadowlands Of The Imagination, A Part Of The Imagination That Has Not Yet Been Plowed, Developed, Or Put To Any Immediately Practical Use…time Spent There Is Not Work Time, Yet Without That Time The Mind Becomes Sterile, Dull, Domesticated. The Fight For Free Space — For Wilderness And Public Space — Must Be Accompanied By A Fight For Free Time To Spend Wandering In That Space.

Stories Are Compasses And Architecture, We Navigate By Them, We Build Our Sanctuaries And Our Prisons Out Of Them, And To Be Without A Story Is To Be Lost In The Vastness Of A World That Spreads In All Directions Like Arctic Tundra Or Sea Ice.

Every Woman Knows What I'm Talking About. It’s The Presumption That Makes It Hard, At Times, For Any Woman In Any Field; That Keeps Women From Speaking Up And From Being Heard When They Dare; That Crushes Young Women Into Silence By Indicating, The Way Harassment On The Street Does, That This Is Not Their World. It Trains Us In Self-doubt And Self-limitation Just As It Exercises Men’s Unsupported Overconfidence.

The New Architecture And Urban Design Of Segregation Could Be Called Calvinist: They Reflect A Desire To Live In A World Of Predestination Rather Than Chance, To Strip The World Of Its Wide-open Possibilities And Replace Them With Freedom Of Choice In The Marketplace.

Women Often Find Great Roles In Revolution, Simply Because The Rules Fall Apart And Everyone Has Agency, Anyone Can Act.

The Process Of Transformation Consists Mostly Of Decay.

Leave The Door Open For The Unknown, The Door Into The Dark. That’s Where The Most Important Things Come From, Where You Yourself Came From, And Where You Will Go.

Places Matter. Their Rules, Their Scale, Their Design Include Or Exclude Civil Society, Pedestrianism, Equality, Diversity (economic And Otherwise), Understanding Of Where Water Comes From And Garbage Goes, Consumption Or Conservation. They Map Our Lives.

Never To Get Lost Is Not To Live, Not To Know How To Get Lost Brings You To Destruction.

The Positive Emotions That Arise In...unpromising Circumstances Demonstrate That Social Ties And Meaningful Work Are Deeply Desired, Readily Improvised, And Intensely Rewarding. The Very Structure Of Our Economy And Society Prevent These Goals From Being Achieved.

Sure, You Can Say Nuclear Power Is Somewhat Less Carbon-intensive Than Burning Fossil Fuels For Energy; Beating Your Children To Death With A Club Will Prevent Them From Getting Hit By A Car. Ravaging The Earth By One Irreparable Means Is Not A Sensible Way To Prevent It From Being Destroyed By Another. There Are Alternatives. We Should Choose Them And Use Them.

It Had Come To Me Not In A Sudden Epiphany But With A Gradual Sureness, A Sense Of Meaning Like A Sense Of Place. When You Give Yourself To Places, They Give You Yourself Back; The More One Comes To Know Them, The More One Seeds Them With The Invisible Crop Of Memories And Associations That Will Be Waiting For You When You Come Back, While New Places Offer Up New Thoughts, New Possibilities. Exploring The World Is One Of The Best Ways Of Exploring The Mind, And Walking Travels Both Terrains.

Exploring The World

In Her Novel Regeneration, Pat Barker Writes Of A Doctor Who 'knew Only Too Well How Often The Early Stages Of Change Or Cure May Mimic Deterioration. Cut A Chrysalis Open, And You Will Find A Rotting Caterpillar. What You Will Never Find Is That Mythical Creature, Half Caterpillar, Half Butterfly, A Fit Emblem Of The Human Soul, For Those Whose Cast Of Mind Leads Them To Seek Such Emblems. No, The Process Of Transformation Consists Almost Entirely Of Decay.

People Are Actually Very Good At Being Communists In The Sense That They Instantly Abandon Capitalism, That They Love These Relationships Of Mutual Aid, Because The Astonishing Thing About Disasters Is That People Are Often Weirdly Joyous In Them, Because They've Recovered A Sense Of Agency, A Sense Of Power, Etc.

Las Vegas Suggests That The Thirst For Places, For Cities And Gardens And Wilderness, Is Unslaked, That People Will Still Seek Out The Experience Of Wandering About In The Open Air To Examine The Architecture, The Spectacles, And The Stuff For Sale, Will Still Hanker After Surprises And Strangers. That The City As A Whole Is One Of The Most Pedestrian-unfriendly Places In The World Suggests Something Of The Problems To Be Faced, But That Its Attraction Is A Pedestrian Oasis Suggests The Possibility Of Recovering The Spaces In Which Walking Is Viable.

I Walk Wherever My Errands Take Me.

I Am Against Resources Being Controlled By Corporations, But That Doesn't Mean I Want Them Controlled By The State.

Despair Is Easy, Or At Least Low Cost.

The Battle With Men Who Explain Things Has Trampled Down Many Women - Of My Generation, Of The Up-and-coming Generation We Need So Badly, Here And In Pakistan And Bolivia And Java, Not To Speak Of The Countless Women Who Came Before Me And Were Not Allowed Into The Laboratory, Or The Library, Or The Conversation, Or The Revolution, Or Even The Category Called Human.

Eduardo Galeano Notes That America Was Conquered, But Not Discovered, That The Men Who Arrived With A Religion To Impose And Dreams Of Gold Never Really Knew Where They Were, And That This Discovery Is Still Taking Place In Our Time.

I See Disaster Everywhere; I Also […] See Generosity And Resistance Everywhere.

Thinking Is Generally Thought Of As Doing Nothing In A Production - Oriented Society And Doing Nothing Is Hard To Do. It's Best Done By Disguising It As Doing Something And The Something Closest To Doing Nothing Is Walking.

Revolution Is As Unpredictable As An Earthquake And As Beautiful As Spring. Its Coming Is Always A Surprise, But Its Nature Should Not Be.

Many People Nowadays Live In A Series Of Interiors...disconnected From Each Other. On Foot Everything Stays Connected, For While Walking One Occupies The Spaces Between Those Interiors In The Same Way One Occupies Those Interiors. One Lives In The Whole World Rather Than In Interiors Built Up Against It.

While A Lot Of People Want To Join The Left To React Against The Mainstream Or Right, I In Many Ways React Against The Left - Not A Lot Of Its Fundamental Commitments, But Its Often Dismal Tone, Righteousness, Defeatism, Etc.

Previous Technologies Have Expanded Communication. But The Last Round May Be Contracting It. The Eloquence Of Letters Has Turned Into The Unnuanced Spareness Of Texts; The Intimacy Of Phone Conversations Has Turned Into The Missed Signals Of Mobile Phone Chat ... ('you're Breaking Up' Is The Cry Of Our Time).

We Talk About Politicians Being In Public Life, But They Seldom Appear In The Public Space Where Everyone Is Free To Appear As A Citizen.

Cities Have Always Offered Anonymity, Variety, And Conjunction, Qualities Best Basked In By Walking: One Does Not Have To Go Into The Bakery Or The Fortune-teller's, Only To Know That One Might. A City Always Contains More Than Any Inhabitant Can Know, And A Great City Always Makes The Unknown And The Possible Spurs To The Imagination.

The Famous Zen Parable About The Master For Whom, Before His Studies, Mountains Were Only Mountains, But During His Studies Mountains Were No Longer Mountains, And Afterward Mountains Were Again Mountains Could Be Interpreted As An Alleory About [the Perpetual Paradox That When One Is Closest To A Destination One Is Also The Farthest).

Books Are Solitudes In Which We Meet.

Walking Allows Us To Be In Our Bodies And In The World Without Being Made Busy By Them.

The Power Of Large Corporations Is Still A Scourge On The Earth, But At Least The Arguments Supporting Them Are Undermined Now.

What Gets Called 'the Sixties' Left A Mixed Legacy And A Lot Of Divides. But It Opened Everything To Question, And What Seems The Most Fundamental And Most Pervasive In All The Ensuing Changes Is The Loss Of Faith In Authority: The Authority Of Government, Of Science, Of Patriarchy, Of Progress, Of Capitalism, Of Violence, Of Whiteness.

Given A Choice Between Their Worldview And The Facts, It's Always Interesting How Many People Toss The Facts.

When You Say 'mother' Or 'father' You Describe Three Different Phenomena. There Is The Giant Who Made You And Loomed Over Your Early Years; There Is Whatever More Human-scale Version Might Have Been Possible To Perceive Later And Maybe Even Befriend; And There Is The Internalized Version Of The Parent With Whom You Struggle- To Appease, To Escape, To Be Yourself, To Understand And Be Understood By- And They Make Up A Chaotic And Contradictory Trinity.

The Rhythm Of Walking Generates A Kind Of Rhythm Of Thinking, And The Passage Through A Landscape Echoes Or Stimulates The Passage Through A Series Of Thoughts. The Creates An Odd Consonance Between Internal And External Passage, One That Suggests That The Mind Is Also A Landscape Of Sorts And That Walking Is One Way To Traverse It. A New Thought Often Seems Like A Feature Of The Landscape That Was There All Along, As Though Thinking Were Traveling Rather Than Making.

A Contrarian At Heart, I Am Often Guided By What I Disagree With And Don't Want.

There Are Disasters That Are Entirely Manmade, But None That Are Entirely Natural.

Some Things We Have Only As Long As They Remain Lost, Some Things Are Not Lost Only So Long As They Are Distant.

Having The Right To Show Up And Speak Are Basic To Survival, To Dignity, And To Liberty.

All Gardening Is Landscape Painting,' Said Alexander Pope.

Landscape Painting

The Language Of Commerce Has Been Engineered To Describe The Overt Purpose Of A Thing, But Cannot Encompass Fringe Benefits Or Peripheral Pleasures. It Weighs The Obvious Against What In Its Terms Are Incomprehensible. When I Drive From Here To There, Speed, Privacy, Control, And Safety Are Easy To Claim. When I Walk, What Happens Is More Vague, More Ambiguous-and In Many Circumstances Much Richer. I Am Out In The World. It's Exercise, Though Not So Quantifiably As On A Treadmill In A Gym With A Digital Readout.

In Great Cities, Spaces As Well As Places Are Designed And Built: Walking, Witnessing, Being In Public, Are As Much Part Of The Design And Purpose As Is Being Inside To Eat, Sleep, Make Shoes Or Love Or Music. The Word Citizen Has To Do With Cities, And The Ideal City Is Organized Around Citizenship -- Around Participation In Public Life.

They Are All Beasts Of Burden In A Sense, ' Thoreau Once Remarked Of Animals, 'made To Carry Some Portion Of Our Thoughts.' Animals Are The Old Language Of The Imagination; One Of The Ten Thousand Tragedies Of Their Disappearance Would Be A Silencing Of This Speech.

If Sorrow And Beauty Are All Tied Up Together, Then Perhaps Maturity Brings With It Not What Nabhan Calls Abstraction, But An Aesthetic Sense That Partially Redeems The Losses Time Brings And Finds Beauty In The Faraway.

A Labyrinth Is A Symbolic Journey . . . But It Is A Map We Can Really Walk On, Blurring The Difference Between Map And World.

A Book Is A Heart That Only Beats In The Chest Of Another.

Walking . . . Is How The Body Measures Itself Against The Earth.

Think Of Civil Society And The State As Joined In A Marriage Of Necessity. You Already Know Who The Wife Is, The One Who Is Supposed To Love, Cherish And Obey: That's Civil Society. Think Of The State As The Domineering Husband Who Expects To Have A Monopoly On Power, On Violence, On Planning And Policymaking.

The Fight For Free Space-for Wilderness And For Public Space-must Be Accompanied By A Fight For Free Time To Spend Wandering In That Space. Otherwise The Individual Imagination Will Be Bulldozed Over For The Chain-store Outlets Of Consumer Appetite, True-crime Titillations, And Celebrity Crises.

Worry Is A Way To Pretend That You Have Knowledge Or Control Over What You Don't--and It Surprises Me, Even In Myself, How Much We Prefer Ugly Scenarios To The Pure Unknown.

A Procession Is A Participants' Journey, While A Parade Is A Performance With An Audience.

Walking Itself Is The Intentional Act Closest To The Unwilled Rhythms Of The Body, To Breathing And The Beating Of The Heart. It Strikes A Delicate Balance Between Working And Idling, Being And Doing. It Is A Bodily Labor That Produces Nothing But Thoughts, Experiences, Arrivals.

Growing Up North Of San Francisco, I Immersed Myself In The Local Landscape And In Books About Native Americans, Cowboys, And Pioneers That Seemed To Ground Me In It, But To Pursue Culture In Those Days Meant Being Spun Around Until Dizzy And Then Pushed East.

Native American

For Millions Of Years, This World Has Been A Great Gift To Nearly Everything Living On It, A Planet Whose Atmosphere, Temperature, Air, Water, Seasons, And Weather Were Precisely Calibrated To Allow Us - The Big Us, Including Forests And Oceans, Species Large And Small - To Flourish.

Lost Really Has Two Disparate Meanings. Losing Things Is About The Familiar Falling Away, Getting Lost Is About The Unfamiliar Appearing.

For [jane Austen And The Readers Of Pride And Prejudice], As For Mr. Darcy, [elizabeth Bennett's] Solitary Walks Express The Independence That Literally Takes The Heroine Out Of The Social Sphere Of The Houses And Their Inhabitants, Into A Larger, Lonelier World Where She Is Free To Think: Walking Articulates Both Physical And Mental Freedom.

Every Woman Who Appears Wrestles With The Forces That Would Have Her Disappear. She Struggles With The Forces That Would Tell Her Story For Her, Or Write Her Out Of The Story ... The Ability To Tell Your Own Story, In Words Or Images, Is Already A Victory, Already A Revolt.

For Many Years, I Have Been Moved By The Blue At The Far Edge Of What Can Be Seen, That Color Of Horizons, Of Remote Mountain Ranges, Of Anything Far Away. The Color Of That Distance Is The Color Of An Emotion, The Color Of Solitude And Of Desire, The Color Of There Seen From Here, The Color Of Where You Are Not. And The Color Of Where You Can Never Go.

Mountain Ranges

Writing Is Saying To No One And To Everyone The Things It Is Not Possible To Say To Someone.

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Aulus Persius Flaccus

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