Walking with my imagination

I had allotted myself an hour and a half today to go for one of my nature walks. I have been feeling a little overwhelmed with work lately and working out hasn’t alleviated much of that stress. I decided to talk an “urban walk” this time, hoping to clear my head while getting away from campus and all the stress associated with it. I started by walking down Forbes Avenue to the Cathedral of Learning. I stopped by the small, grassy park area and rested for a bit. It was bitter cold, but it surprisingly felt really nice in combination with the sunshine.

I observed people milling about while other clearly walked with purpose towards some unknown destination. This got me thinking about how most people always have a destination and purpose in mind. It is increasingly difficult to simply meander about without heading in some planned direction. Even in this walk I couldn’t help but plan where I wanted to go, no matter how general the direction.

This unconscious planning is most apparent in my family vacations. Every exotic country or far away state we travel to, my father always schedules every minute of our time there. There is immense pressure to “see everything” and “do everything.” There is no time to wander the streets of a new and exciting place, to become fully immersed in the foreign culture. I can barely enjoy my vacation; we do so much sight-seeing that I’m usually always exhausted by late afternoon. I understand my father’s idea of truly experiencing a country, however I think there should be some balance. When I travelled to Germany, I loved visiting the Reichstag and seeing firsthand where so much infamous history occurred. However, I also would have appreciated the freedom of wandering the streets of Berlin without any plan to see famous landmarks. I find I get the most enjoyable memories from spending my day in a foreign country as I spend my days in America.

This thought reminded me of Emerson’s feelings on travelling: “Travelling is a fool's paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty, and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I seek the Vatican, and the palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go” (Emerson, 227-8).

I disagree with Emerson’s theory. I cannot fathom why he would be content staying in his natural habitat. Imagination is one of man’s greatest friends, however actually experiencing someplace new, especially a foreign country, is incredible. Seeing the people, the architecture, the culture; tasting the food; hearing the native language are all indescribable. They are experiences that cannot be created within the mind; they must be felt in real life.