Never a day off . . . (ak)

This morning a sparkling walk on Dartmoor in glorious sunshine and freezing air; a circular walk from Hay Tor Vale to Hound Tor and return via Hay Tor and thence to Hay Tor Vale for a drink (it is Christmas!) at the Rock Inn.

A familair walk (three and a half hours) for us (mmj and ak) so we could give our full attention to reflecting on three months of walkingtalkingwriting blogging.

In the left/right/left/right pattern of walking alternating views emerge, polarise, merge and magically change into their opposite.

What is this blog about?

Well, obviously it’s about walking and talking and writing.

Okay, and what does that mean?

Charting a journey, muliple journeys, symbolic journeys . . . one foot in the literary, the secular, the scientific, the culturally congruent, post-modern . . .

the other foot

puzzling in the religious. Puzzling because it’s now the religious that feels transgressive; something to keep private. No longer do we need to keep sex private, but religion, that’s a different story. No longer a dominant voice, perhaps only of historical interest. A polarisation between what appears as the unreason of fundamentalism and the reason of a liberalism in which the religious has been tamed and boxed in, something to be smirked over; just as we used to smirk over smutty pictures.

Yet this is where we are, a foot in each camp, devout and ironic, we walk into the New Year with hearts aglow.

ak


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