When was the last time your gaze stretched out to a distant horizon, allowing all between you and that distant point to fill your heart, mind, and soul?
Before hiking the Hadrian’s Wall Path, it had been too long for me. And I find that the visual compression of my everyday life – living between the distance of my eyes and the screen of whatever device I’m on, or concentrating on my feet as I navigate the rugged cobblestones of San Miguel – mirrors the compression of my thoughts. Everything seems to be dense, urgent, and short-term.
Walking along the wide open spaces of northern England returned me to spaciousness. As we walked along the estuaries of the Solway along the Atlantic side, we witnessed the rhythms of the tides. Moving through lush pastures and fertile fields (the soil!), we connected to the abundance of Mother Earth, even as the hands of humans shaped the landscape. And as we climbed the gentle slopes of the northern Pennines, we had vistas stretching for miles and centuries.
It wasn’t just our vision that was rejuvenating us. We breathed clean, brisk air deeply, cleaning stale cobwebs from our lungs and our minds. Each environmental space offered its signature scent—from salty tides in the West, to the farm smells of dung and hay, and to the heights of the Pennines with that metallic cold. We ended back in the urban environment of Newcastle, which was a sharp contrast to the nature we had experienced for the previous five days, but in a way is more familiar to me.
And it wasn’t just the senses that benefited from following distant horizons. Being unplugged from devices was a liberation. We read about how important it is to limit screen time and unhook ourselves from the 24/7 digital world we’ve voluntarily committed ourselves to. And I try. I walk away from my phone at 9 pm and don’t bring it into my bedroom. But that hardly creates the distance that a week of minimal digital engagement created.
A week-long walk in nature without news, without notifications, and with minimal digital fodder allowed my brain to stretch out and follow my gaze. My hiking partner and I thought we’d chat for a day or two and then sink into reverie or podcasts. But on Day Six, we were still engaged in conversation and reverie. The quality time put to shame the quick cup of coffee or even a longer meal that passes for “let’s catch up.” This was connection.
Now that I’m home, the compression of my daily life is crushing the spaciousness the hike brought me. At home and abroad, world events are creating a compression that is suffocating.
For my own health, I need to make time for vastness. I need nature to fill my eyes, soul, and mind out to the very distance of the horizon. Join me at WonderCrone.com and let’s exchange ways to stretch our vision, hearts, and minds.
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