A Path Is A Prior Interpretation Of

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.

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.

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.

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

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