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            I’ve never been very good at wandering or walking without any sort of plan.  Hence the reason a planned to circle the campus out edges and then explore its inner parts.  Of course, like with any sort of plan, it inevitably changed. I began my walk after brunch, around noontime, heading down Erdman Driveway.  In this part of campus, the boundaries were very clear, usually marked by sidewalks or beautifully trimmed bushes.  After deciding that these boundaries were easily identified, I turned my attention toward my surroundings, marveling at the clear sky with perfect clouds and reading license plates.  Eventually my gaze fell upon this little white house right beside the Admissions parking lot.  Here began my true saunter and my plan began to fade away.  I was able to identify the building as the site of Human Resources and continued through the parking lot to take a look at the next never-before-seen sight.  After learning that the gate to Admissions was adorned with lanterns given to the college by the Alumnae Association to celebrate past, present and future Mawrters, I turned the corner onto Yarrow Street and was met with a yet another gateway that presented me with a little bit of a conundrum.

I had some moments of introspection during my walk which I will touch upon more in this post. Firstly, I questioned my willingness to do "work" at nine in the morning; I am not and have never been a morning person, so it was curious to me that I had the get-up-and-go attitude that early in the morning. As I mentioned in my paper, I attribute that to being in college, where I can take whichever classes I want (most of the time) and do assignments because I want to, not just because I have to. In high school I was pressured by my college counselor to take classes that are "worthwhile," that "colleges would appreciate seeing on a transcript." Instead, I look classes like Environmental Science, Drama, and Geography because I liked them, thus severely perturbing my counselor. Still, I was always scrutinized for taking "the easy classes" and "not trying hard enough" to get into a "good college." But oh how the times have changed - my (former) college counselor now seeks help from me for college application. Yes, that same person that told me I probably won't get accepted anywhere and that "Bryn Mawr is a weird college" is now trying to sweet-talk me into doing his job for him. We'll see how that goes.

            I was very struck by Anne’s idea that speaking up in class is akin to sharing, while staying quiet is selfish – somehow keeping brilliance under lock and key, and not giving the rest of the class access.  I’ve never had a problem with talking in class, especially since coming to Bryn Mawr, but I often wish I could edit myself more and filter the ideas in my head slightly better before blurting them out.  As much as I recognize that silencing oneself is not always a good thing, especially if it is out of censorship or fear or anxiety, I often find it helpful to just shut up and listen.  When I silence myself in the classroom at any given moment, I notice that it tends to give someone else the opportunity to speak and share an idea.  So is the converse true?  Can my voice silence others?

           In order to walk through Bryn Mawr like Thoreau, I began at the center. I felt that as locating the center was an objective of mine, I could not let a predetermined destination interfere with the way nature wanted to take me. Nature was guiding me. Nothing else should be guiding me. Following Thoreau, I wanted to be guided unconsciously by “nature’s subtle magnetism” rather than by an end point. A walk should have no purpose or destination, so I set out on my sauntering walk to see where the walk took me.

Silence is a precious item to find on this planet. Therefore, I picture it as the mystery hidden under the deep sea. Silence is far away but tempting. To visualize the concept of silence, I choose to use the deep sea as the representation of silence. Even though I describe silence in my graph as unknown, mysterious and isolated. My impression of the word silence is positive.

I.
For this walk, I felt restricted in my wanderings. I was uncomfortably aware of the need to reflect rather than simply being in the moment. And when I think, was I "present," in my own proceedings? I have to admit that, no, I was mostly divided. I saw, I felt, I heard, and all the time I wanted to translate this into words. But that act of translation, of recording, seems to ruin the experience, no? Or maybe it just leads to other experiences.

While on my “Thoreauvian” walk, I discovered that it’s not necessarily best to have a destination in mind; in fact, I was more self-engaged and contemplative when I didn’t really know where I was going. Time passed more quickly than I had expected to, and I travelled farther than I thought I would have without realizing it. One of the subjects of my paper was defining a boundary, and on my walk, I arrived at the conclusion that in many cases, boundaries aren’t limited to geographical terms, but can also be defined as a diffusion of sensation. As I moved away from campus, I thought less and less about the tribulations of my day and more on subjects that had been moved into the back of my mind — subjects that were surprisingly relevant to my new experiences at college. I also thought a lot about one of the Thoreau’s quotes that troubled me. He explains to his readers that, “if you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother, and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again—if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled your affairs, and you are a free man—then you are ready for a walk”. Although it’s a romantic thought, I find that it’s not a very realistic one. The concluding thought of my paper played with the idea of choosing between humanly love and peace in nature.

First: this campus has some highly strange things in and around it (Moon bench? What?). Second, my version of Thoreauvian walking forced me to notice these weird things that are out and about around me everyday. I didn't have anywhere I was walking to, so my brain and my body began occupying themselves (after about 20 minutes of solid walking) with not what I was going to have for dinner or what I was going to do after I ate, but with the direct stimuli around me. Notable things I found (in a manner of speaking, they weren't lost exactly) were a huge, fat, making-sound-in-the-trees insect in the grass near Brecon (terrifying), a surprising amount of bumperstickers in various parking lots, very few pedestrian sidewalks (sadly..), and a medium-sized, permanent-looking fake boulder plopped down near the entrance to Denbigh. The latter was by far the most provoking thing I had seen all day. Of course, my mind immediately races to the fantastical: hidden pirate treasure from the 18th century colonial days! But really, let's be serious. Why would there be a fake rock anywhere on campus? Question for further thought/action..