JOURNAL NO.10

My walk through Park Monceau was a pleasant one. A sunny and warm Sunday afternoon, I dragged my roommate out of the house to walk with me.

We took the metro and got off right in front of the entrance of the park. 

Reminiscing on this specific walk I took with Ali, the strongest feeling I remember is cheerfulness. As we strolled through the cement of the park, sometimes stepping on the damp grass very briefly, I felt happy and present in the moment. 

It wasn't a very pensive walk. It was more of a nice, fun thing to do. Something that made us 100x happier to be here in Paris and be together. 

This walk made me think about history. The history of the different statues that are placed throughout the grounds. Why are they there? Who created them? What's their meaning? I don't really know the answers to any of these questions.

But I then start to think about the people who have walked through this park in the past. The people who walked through this park the day before I did, or 80 years before I did. This brought me back to my idea of invisibility of street art and invisibility of common walkers.

The people who have walked through Parc Monceau before I have, are invisible to me. They're invisible to the rest of the world, now. 

There were some people who walked through this park alone, trying to figure out why their hearts were hanging so low in their chests. There were some people who walked through this park trying to figure out how their hearts could beat so fast and feel so good. There were people who walked through this park that just walked and looked around. Some who didn't even look at all. 

I think taking a walk isn't something you can really define or something you can explain how to do. Everyone walks throughout their lives. Sometimes, a walk could be life changing or eye opening. Sometimes a walk could be just a plain old walk. Sometimes they can be dreadful. 

It's hard for me to say whether or not someone knows how to walk, or if they're good at it. And I don't mean literally how to place one foot in front of the other, but figuratively about the thinking or pondering they do whilst walking.

I don't think we always need to have a specific outcome in mind while we're walking. Sometimes it's nice to talk a walk and take in the fresh air. Sometimes it sucks to take a walk because your feet hurt and your legs are tired and you're running late for something important. Sometimes its nice to walk around with your best friend and forget about your surroundings while simultaneously discussing everything you see. 

That's how Ali and I walked through Parc Monceau. We made a point to look at each statue we saw and we even noticed a strange area with different trees and mosses that didn't seem to belong or didn't seem quite natural.

We noticed the horses walk past us. We noticed the old men sitting on the bench talking and throwing bread at the pigeons. But we forgot to notice the birds. We forgot to notice the sky and each tree. We forgot, for that walk, that we were in Paris. Instead we were just in the park. Taking photos of statues. Making fun of the people we see. Reminiscing on our childhoods and wishing to be 4 years old again.

I was told to meditate on walking for this blog post. For me, walking is so many different things. I go on walks that consist of tears and pain and sadness. I go on walks that consist of joy and laughter and thirst. 

There are all different types of walks one can go on. There are all different types of walkers. Everyday, we change the type of walker we are. Sometimes more than once in a day. 

Walking is something we all do. It can help us learn and it can help us grow. It can just be a pleasurable activity. It can be a necessity. 

I'd hate to give it one definition or one type of person who meets the criteria. Who walks correctly.

A walk is a walk is a walk is a walk is a walk....