Emily DeWoolfson--Nolan Trail

I never have a sense of where I am in the world; maps are like foreign languages to me, and I couldn't describe how to get to City Center from my apartment on East Campus if my life depended on it. So finding the Lions Gate Bridge for this class was probably more of a "flow" experience for me than actually participating in the lessons once I arrived.

I set out from another class around 5:45 and headed up the street and into the Mariner's Museum park. I had a general idea of where to go, having been to the spot once or twice before, but I had no concept of how long it would take. I followed the road; I thought at first that the turtle bridge near campus was supposed to be our meeting place, but I could see it through the trees, and realized it was empty. Most other students would never have made a mistake like that, but I had some association between the two bridges in my head, and I lack a lot of common sense.

I passed the turtle bridge and called out to a runner who had stopped for a breath, asking if he could point me in the right direction. He did: "just follow this road and you'll get there eventually." I started walking.

The area is wooded, but with cars passing every few minutes I still felt very distracted by the man-made aspects of the landscape. The road, especially, was uneven, with no sidewalk and edges that dipped sharply into the ground, so that I had to pay close attention to stay safe from passing cars, or even from tripping.

After a while I noticed a girl walking ahead of me, seemingly in the same direction. I thought I recognized her from class, but from the back I couldn't be sure. She was on the phone for a while, but once she hung up I tried to make obvious noises to let her know I was behind her, to see if she might turn and decide to walk with me. She didn't.

We walked for what seemed like hours, never speaking, and slowly the distance between us grew. Once in a while she would disappear into the trees ahead of me, and I would feel worried, afraid suddenly that I might be lost, that my impromptu guide had disappeared completely. She would always reappear, though, and I would feel relieved.

The road became more unkempt, and the cars became fewer. We passed some little houses behind a wire fence; I saw more squirrels, heard more bird songs. Everything seemed calm. The girl I was following was far in front of me by now; if I had called out she may not even have heard me. I imagined myself as Alice, following the white rabbit, farther and farther into an unknown place. I felt overwhelmingly that if I lost concentration, if I lost her, I would be hopeless.

Finally, finally, I saw water in the distance. I felt renewed; it seemed that we were almost there. Thankfully, too, since my shoes had started to blister my feet, and every step became a defiant act against the pain. The road twisted more sharply here, and I lost sight of my guide, but for once I had faith that she would be around the corner when I got there.

She was, and so was the class, standing on a hill. I think I actually laughed out loud when I saw the semi-familiar faces. It seemed like I had been in the woods for years. I looked at the clock on my cell phone. It was about 6:30.

Colin Beidler: Nolan

       I often venture to the James river for a number of reasons.  Mainly because it offers such tranquility and a release from the daily hustle and bustle.  I take comfort and slowly become mesmerized by the metalic nature of the water at sunset, especially in the way that it constantly shape shifts.
       I especially enjoy the vast space that you're presented with. If offers so much room to just BE and toy with whatever happens to be invading my mind.  The sun always likes to make a grand departure just behind the clouds and land afar.  So many textures and patterns, you can get lost in the intricacies of the forest and just bask
      The tree at the edge of the water takes the toll of the blunt force presented by a storm for sake of its younger gin that reside within the depths of the forest.  The clouds play into the forest just as much as the trees or moss or saplings.
     Sounds of unknown animals can be quite nerving at dusk.  The silly fears of danger within me crawl up, but I suppress them for i know that if my demise were to be at the hands of a wild animal, at least I would be a tasty snack!
     The world around me pulsates with life.  I am enamored by its presence.  I feel a part of it, although my physical being may be so artificial and, thus, far from its true structure.  Theres something about the scratches one gets from gently blazing the forest that is, in a way, rewarding.

Colin Beidler: 2nd Class Discussion

         In class we discussed the transition from viewing ones own realm of journey and the interaction that one has with other's journeys.  We also covered the concept of taking three steps forward and two steps back.   Now i may not admittedly fully grasp either of these trains of thought, but they certainly struck me as fascinating.  So many ideologies come to mind when considering such actions.  Clearly the first is patience, but followed closely by wisdom.  If one were to retrace every step, not just once, but twice, you would gain so much more!  Reddick mentioned that its only on the reverse journey when your forced to retrace your path that the mind truly quiets down and you have room to reflect.  I can relate to this concept in that re-experiencing certain visual cues often spark flash bulb memories.  All of a sudden though, you find yourself experiencing the same thing, but from the opposite perspective.  This is much the same perspective as viewing inwardly toward someone else's journey and how you interact with said journey.  It is all to easy to disregard someone else's path as you pass them with nothing, but intrigue toward what lies ahead for you.  Walking back through, you begin to wonder if that person's experience was all that dissimilar from your own and, if so, how?  How does your own presence interact with that experience? Indeed, once you begin to wander down that philosophical path, you begin to wonder how you ever managed to grasp any real level of gravity toward ones actions without taking the time to retrace one's own steps.  In discovering the inadvertent or latent effects that one exhibits outwardly toward an infinite number of paths, you begin to realize the gravity of every action you are capable of performing.  

Colin Beidler: Class discussion

                In class we talked about flow and its significance on the journey.  Flow was defined as the merging of action and awareness.  It is the ability to visualize not only the end of your journey, but the steps you must take to get there.  Following the lead of another drastically hinders one's own flow because your merely committing an action.  You lose the sense of awareness that is so vital when you're independent of suggestion.  Confidence comes from the assertion of will.
              The trail is very different from the market place in regards to flow.  In the market place it is important to fit in.  You're constantly struggling to gain the upper hand from your peers and other merchants.  The stress of running the risk of getting scammed asserts a flow of conformity that is restricting and hinders perceptions.
             In leaving society, in this case the market place, the mind is left to itself without the distracting demands of the masses.  A certain sense of clarity can be much more easily achieved and one is left to ponder mysteries of the inner self, while only being concerned with the most basic necessities of life.  Here, your flow is not concerned with self-consciousness, but rather with self-worth and personal strength.  The only barrier between yourself and your goal is the will to achieve it.  Here you are left to find your own meaning, your one sense of flow.  

Colin Beidler: Landscapes of the sacred intro

The intro to landscapes of the sacred made some very good points that I've never considered before.  The first page really pulled you in too.  I especially connected with his comment on being able to smell the "ozone filling the air" just before the storm.  Theres nothing more ominous than smelling a storm brewing when your exposed on the face of a mountain!

"The construction of personal and communal identity is invariably related to primal spacial categories... Who we are, in other words, is enseperable from where we are."

 This holds deep where ever you go.  If someone starts small talk with you, one of the very first questions is always "where'ya from?" It brings so much insight to what type of person your likely to be, culturally.  In American respects however, there is a saying from the movie Joe Dirt that hits home, literally; "home is where you make it."  Its not about where your ancestors hail, but rather what place holds the most personal significance and the reasons behind it. It seems that American culture is all about finding your own center of rootedness for one's own personal reasons.  Is that more significant than holding true to ancestral ties?  Perhaps the answer to that question is insignificant.  The more important question in this intro seems to be "what does your rootedness mean to you?"

Henry Miller: "Our destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things."

I am left with many questions though, primarily centered around the difference between sacred and spiritual.  Is there a difference? How big is the step from 'significant' to 'sacred'?

C. Cleaves-Noland Trail

   I was really excited to go to the Noland Trail for class because I had never been before, but I was not really sure what to expect.  Dr. Redick read a passage from Annie Dillard's novel and set the tone for our class that day. Our mission is to examine various sites while utilizing all of our senses and to record our experience. We start off by looking over the James River and the view is honestly so beautiful.  The loud rushing of the rhythmic water is heard in the background as I get lost in the scenery.  Birds were fighting on the water, gnats swarmed wildly, and the consistent chirp of various bugs were the soundtrack of our visit. But still there is a certain kind of peace in the midst of the natural commotion.Next we examined the leaves of a steel magnolia tree and smelled its fruit.  Later we crossed the street and stood next to a humongous statue.  The sound of runners, cars, and conversation float softly in the air from the road behind us.  We examined shrubbery, trees, leaves etc. More than learning an assortment of facts about these different things, I really just enjoyed being outside and observing.  It's amazing what you can see when you really pay attention.It reminded me of when I was younger and my family and I would go for walks every night after dinner. I always felt so calm and peaceful on those nights.  It was like every part of the trail had an independent story that eventually overlapped.  There was a lot more going on than what you might first realize.  We discussed the age of certain trees, and how recently they died, and which berries were safe to eat and which were not!  As we walked along the path the trees loomed over us like giants.  Squirrels weaved across the trail trying to avoid our loud footsteps invading their turf. Shrubbery grew over the path and hidden stumps became our demise.  There was a small thicket of flowers, which most were dead.  A few remained, though, a bright gold color in a sea of green. So many other people were interacting with the trail as well, all with a different goal in mind.  There were serious runners that we made way for, and a sweet young family enjoying an early evening stroll.  I wondered if this was a normal routine for many of them or if this was a new journey for others.  After a while of traveling down the path we were sent on our own to discover and experience new things. I stayed next to the lake for a little bit and just stared aimlessly at the trees and the algae on the water, once again, lost in the scenery.  I found my way back down the path and stopped and sat at the base of a huge tree with a group of other students. I sat their and thought about the beginning of class and it turned out to be something more than what I was expecting.  I felt like I could stay out there for hours- no words are needed.  I jot down a few thoughts in my notebook and before you know it I see the rest of the class approaching and it's time to go.  I head back to my car and prepare to drive away.  Maybe next time I will get to hear the rest of those stories.

M Setness- Nolan Tail

September 27th, 2013

I show up to class at the Lion's Bridge this past Thursday in a Tommy Hilfiger mini, Cream Sweater, and Justin boots-- mentally writing the day's class off before is starts, I'm in a mindset of "hurry up and get this over with", because I have to go to my internship after class. I feel semi guilty before the class begins because I want to put the effort into the class yet I often feel lost and in another world. Class begins over the spill way into the James River. I'm immediately taken back by the water color sky as the sun runs west, I've always had a weak spot for aquatic settings. I take notes as Redick suggests and note the sound of rushing water as well as waves lapping at the shore. As small and "ugly" the bank of the James may be, I have the urge to go sit in the sand... Over the river a Blue Heron soars and glides to the rivers surface, I anticipate a stealth catch of a fish but it proceeds out of view. I try to "get into nature" but am distracted by "native war painting" Redick displays to our class. I look back down to the bank and it's shrubbery and notice a small bird perched on a flimsy limb snatching berries from surrounding bushes. Once again my "getting in touch with nature" is distracted by the sounds of a barking dog and passing cars. We move on to the Magnolia tree and I apply my Botany skills and notice the cutical present on the magnolia leaves, the tree smells green and reminds me of a Christmas Tree. The class progresses to the trail and I notice the start is not a dirt trail but crushed shells. I want to pick up a half broken one, but resist and look up instead. There's a Dogwood ahead and it makes me think of my grandma, back in Oregon she'd take us on hikes in the woods and identify different plants, expressing all of her botanist  knowledge. Through the branches I can see geese fly over the lake and hear their distinct calls echo off the water. As we progress down the trail we are regularly split as the Red Sea to let trail runners by, many of which display military paraphernalia. At the back of the group I miss a talk of a thorn bush and example, a classmate startles me by offering it towards me, it falls to the ground. I feel bad and pick it up only to be pricked by the tiny thorns covering the stem. The trail curves and a sad looking garden area is exposed from the trees. All the flowers seem to be dead. The trail snakes to a pond. As we walk I look up and the trees look as they all shoot straight up into infinity. Ivy and small vines snake and curl around the trunks up to the sky. One tree shades the path with large holey heart shaped leaves,  next to it are small spiney trees that tickle to the touch. Redick "releases" us much to my horror to explore on our own. Not bringing my bug spray and not wanting to ruin my outfit for my internship, I cautiously stray from the path to view the lake better and to snag a few picture for instagram. I head back down the trail, but try to notice the little things as I walk. I see bright purple berries attached to a green leafy bush, noticing the contrast of green to purple in the dimming light. I walk on and find star shaped leaves creating a canopy over my head. Once again at the statue the sunset amazes me. Do you every just sit and wonder how something in nature can look so beautiful? I walk back to the bank of the James, dropping my bag in the grass and walking straight to the sand. My heels slip under me as I continue to the very edge of the water. The bridge has twinkling lights along it in the evening light. I walk over to a down tree and perch myself on it to take in the view. Broken slabs of concrete surround me and I wonder how they got there. I climb over to the rocks and discover a colony of black crabs scattering into the rocks to hide from me. Deciding to leave them alone I walk back to my tree and notice two wave lines of green algae.  The light is fading and my ride should be coming to pick me up any minute. I turn one last time to look over the river and take in its serenity, I take a shore river picture (once again for instargam), grab my bag and head back to campus.