Which is probably just as well seen as I'm still without bike...
The Hanging Wood
At any rate, from where I live in Ibrox-Cessnock it's no problem at all to get into the Kilpatrick Braes and Hills even without a bike. It takes all of 30 minutes to find myself suddenly surrounded by sea sky and soil, as opposed to sewers, pylons and concrete. Not that I find the city so abominable, but I do find it essential to tap in to real Culture now and then, the sort of culture that nourishes existential and eco-minded growth, that enables a spacious mind and body, that attunes the self to the all...
Where the hills are a place of inter-being (the small self dissipates for there is nothing to reflect it back), the city is emphatically a place of ego and (small) self-centred action.
In terms of spiritual cleansing (an essential task in a world beset by pollution, physical, existential and otherwise), one could do a lot worse than going for a solitary walk (or cycle) in the hills. Indeed, to be in a city like Glasgow, nestling in a valley surrounded by gentle hills, is to be close to the essence of one's self.
The small self framed by two blades of grass; the wider self on the other hand cannot be framed since it is both immense and thus immeasurable. A selfie in the great existential sense would thus be impossible.
Angelomorphosis amidst the Braes....
A day when you re-cognize your own birdhood, where you inhale the vastness of space open to you, where you can see the sea and the city, is never a day wasted.
The inimitable Scots pine, the Clyde estuary, and in the distance the peak of Corlic Hill above Greenock.
And so it is, a ninety minute ramble in the hills, a ten minute train ride to Yoker, another ten minutes to walk down to the little ferry, and from there, crossing the Ganges, everything is timeless....
Cycling without cycling.... !
No comments:
Post a Comment