Before I left for my travels, I read Katherine May's new book Enchantment.
In it, she describes her experience of going for a long walk, which reminded me of my experience taking this break from work. At first I felt panicked at the reality of doing “nothing”, then I had a million ideas for new projects and offerings, and then it all emptied out and the void emerged.
Here's the passage from the book—
When I walk, I fall through three layers of experience. The first is all about the surface of my skin, the immediate feedback of my senses. It is often twitchy and uncomfortable: my boots are too tight; there's a twig in my sock. My backpack won't sit square on my shoulders. My walking is stop-start in that phase, curtailed by an endless series of adjustments. I am never sure if I really want to go the distance.
But if I walk on through that, those sensations eventually fade and they’re replaced by bubbling thought, a burgeoning of ideas and insights, a sense of joyous chatter in the mind. This is the point in a walk when the interior of my mind feels luxuriant, a place so pleasurable to inhabit that I never want my legs to stop. It's a creative space, a place where problems are solved in unfathomable ways, the answers arriving like truths known all along.
If I carry on walking, eventually that fades, too. Perhaps it is low blood sugar, or perhaps the popcorn brain burns itself out eventually, but at some point I reach a very different state of mind, a place beyond words in which I feel quiet and empty. This is my favourite phase of all, an open space in which I am nothing for a while, just an existence with moving parts and a map in my hand, whose feet know the route and do not need my interference.
Nothing happens here, or so it seems. But in its aftermath, I find my most profound insights, whole shifts in the meanings and understandings that underpin who I am. In this state, I am an open door. — Katherine May
