For the Love of Ambient Space
Look at the hill on the horizon. In the green hillside that stretches across the horizon, we can see a connection to history. It is cut with hedge rows and tall poplars or the occasional oak forest that tops a hill sporadically. Within the timeless picture, amidst the wind-driven clouds and birdsong, a single moment is etched into the rolling downs.
A white horse sits there, symbolizing a culture that deeply impacted history thousands of years ago. They saw this hill, a unique location that they visited every year, and they decided to carve their most important animal into its side. They tattooed the earth with the belief that the land would take care of them. Furthermore, they came back year after year. We know that they returned regularly because people still do. Every year, people bring their trowels and kneel on the grass to remove weeds and imperfections from the horse’s body. It has been a destination for barefooted pilgrims since the Bronze Age.
On seeing a landmark cut in to the chalk that has survived millennia you are reminded that human footprints and handprints are built into the structure of culture. We are the way we look at the land. We are the way we mark the land. And we are the way that we understand the shape of the landscape and the way we move through the world. History can observe us throughout the ages. Our walks should never be a lonely affair when there are so many places to find our footprints that have been trod before.
Erling Kagge threw the batteries for his radio in the bin before he stepped out of the plane in Antarctica. His only safety line was severed from the beginning because he was seeking silence. Stephen Jay Gould walked for miles while ruminating on the essays he would eventually publish in Natural History and other publications. He also wrote about Leonardo da Vinci, who walked across the hills that cut through Italy searching for shellfish. Leonardo da Vinci demonstrated, at least in his own belief, that what was once located in the sea can now be discovered on hillsides and mountain peaks. He found his moment of clarity while alone in the hills, listening to his own thoughts and the sounds of nature. Indeed, Chomolungma (Mt Everest) was once under the sea.
The purpose of walking is to step away from civilization and gain a deeper understanding of your life in the present. One valuable lesson I’ve learned about escapism is that you can find solitude even in the busiest streets of New York City — and the same applies to other bustling metropolises. There is no defined journey in ambience, just that which can be found by the individual. Oliver Sacks discovered a unique form of escapism in the sight of rare ferns growing in the cracks of concrete pavements in New York (he was English, so I will call them pavements).
But can you escape connectivity in the modern era? Mountainous regions have traditionally been areas where daily conflicts cannot take place because there are no cell phone signals in these remote areas. Here in Aotearoa, New Zealand the second decade of the 21st century is slowly catching up with the rest of the world. We often find ourselves lagging behind in terms of technology and culture, usually by a few years.
I imagine that other countries have already utilized Starlink before us. Soon texting will be ubiquitous, even in the deepest darkest corners of Fiordland. There will be no dead zones. My mother might still be able to send me a text, possibly reminding me of something extremely important, such as the date of my brother’s birthday, even if I’m patiently waiting out a storm in my tent. Ping. Remember that it’s your brother’s birthday today. Pointless, and yet it will break into my dream of pointless adventure, just as the string of Star Link satellites intend to break my flow of thought every time I remember they are there.
Obviously universal texting is going to be a boon for many the globe over, but for those of us who wish to disappear it will come as somewhat of a burden. Sometimes, we need empty space in which to breathe and reflect.
I should clarify. I do not see walking as a form of self-help. I do not see wilderness trips as self-help. Although they certainly can be, and should be valued as such. That is not their function. In truth, they have no inherent function. And we should value those insignificant moments of peace, as they can lead to profound insights. Just remember that profundity is not the point.
Taking a different tack. A few years ago, my partner and I flew for four hours from Shanghai to Xian to visit the Terracotta Warriors. It was a day trip. The most wondrous and insane day trip I have ever experienced. The gap between my cultural competency and ignorance is at its widest when it comes to China. The Terracotta Warriors transcend that space, taken together, even in their incomplete nature. There is nothing like an army built for a dead emperor to bring chills to your bones, along with the biting cold in northern China. Walking around the great pit felt surreal. There are limited ways to describe something so astounding. The noise was constant, and the chatter in the windy warehouse was incomprehensible. Apparently, it was crucial to keep the doors open. All that noise is what makes my partner’s observation even more thoughtful.
Her camera lens tracked along the ground, paying no attention to the chariots or the ordinary soldiers. Instead, she focused on a partially buried head with a crooked mouth, showing signs of previous damage. Through her lens, the head lay at an angle, resembling a desolate spectator crushed in the midst of an imperial procession, or a neglected prince whose existence has faded away like sand slipping through an hourglass, as he gradually sinks beneath the soft soil. It is a unique aspect of the archaeological arena that no one else seems to be focusing on. Within a mindful environment, there are things that others overlook. That is where curiosity resides, regardless of whether it is your turn to experience it or not.
Go for a walk. There need not be any destination. During my training as an alpine instructor I was repeatedly reminded that the summit was not the target. The aim was to journey through the mountains and return home safely. The journey was sold as the purpose. Yet I believe that the true marvel of working and walking in the mountains is the opportunity to give space to your Default Mode Network — the part of your brain that is constantly active, that never seems to switch off — while being immersed in the chaotic beauty of nature: the heat, the buzzing of mosquitos, the wind rustling through the trees, the distant roar of an avalanche echoing from the peaks above, the hooting of an owl piercing through the darkness, and the crackling of a fire that keeps the imagination alive. The moments when you quietly walk through forests are filled with inspiration, which becomes the foundation of your creative output. It can bring a sense of clarity to life that cannot be achieved by staying still and stressing over food-truck menus. The wonder of walking is that one can disappear into something quiet surrounded by noise.
What does this mean? All that it says is that there is no silence to be found. Even when you sleep, as Guy Leschziner describes, chaos often reigns — especially for someone with a chronic parasomnia like myself.
What can we truly call silence if there is always noise? Perhaps we can refer to it as space-time. Space is the shape of the world around us. Sentient beings exist amongst each other, unable to communicate, yet shaped by the same landscape so that past and future intertwine. Time can be described as the empty period that is given to us for creation. Our feet take us to places that demand nothing from us. There are no deadlines, only the power of imagination that can develop a cure for cancer, outline a novel that could win the Booker Prize, inspire the creation of a remarkable art exhibition, or simply provide a space for us to exist separate from all these things. At that moment, with the sunlight glinting off the chalk drawn horse on the hillside, walking becomes more than just exercise. It becomes an adventure, where the world transforms in front of your eyes.
