Writers Walking

I’ve always enjoyed walking, maybe never so much as in my student days when I took to the streets and stairways of San Francisco, and I was always happy when others joined me. On one of my favorite walks we’d start at Grace Cathedral, not far from where I lived, heading up to Ina Coolbrith Park on Russian Hill, and then descending via Macondray Lane to North Beach for a much needed breather and cappuccinos. On another walk, I’d climb one or another of the narrow stairways above Mill Valley, following an old fire road for a surprising view of the bay in the distance. Now, during the renewed shutdown, walking turns out to be a good way to social distance and keep active.

There’s just something about it that’s relaxing and invigorating at the same time. More than that, it can be inspirational, as attested by several writers over the years. Of the 19^th century romantic poets, William Wordsworth swore by his “rambles” through the Lake District in northern England, extended walks that resulted in the “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings” in poems such as Tintern Abbey. His sister, Dorothy Wordsworth, wrote of her sibling that “starlight walks and winter winds are his delight.”

Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson were both inveterate walkers. “Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow,” Thoreau observed, while Emerson advised that, “Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence, and nothing too much.”

In the 20^th century, Virginia Woolf, Ernest Hemingway, and Richard Wright all walked as a way to relax and promote creativity.  Novelist Jack Kerouac’s semi-autobiographical novel, The Dharma Bums, described a hiking trip he took with poet Gary Snyder in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in the early 1950s. Known today as much for his environmentalism as his poetry, Snyder has written that, “Walking is the great adventure, the first meditation, a practice of heartiness and soul primary to humankind. Walking is the exact balance between spirit and humility” (The Practice of the Wild, Counterpoint Press).

For myself, I generally prefer walking in tamer environs, say on a sidewalk at the edge of a park where I don’t have to worry too much about falling off a cliff or encountering a dangerous critter, as poet Mary Oliver once did on a Florida sojourn. (She came uncomfortably close to an alligator.) Then, my mind is naturally free from nagging thoughts and I start to pay attention to the world around me. Sometimes these walks prompt a poem or a haiku, sometimes not. In either case, I feel better for it.

Why is walking such a balm? A study in the British Journal of Sports Medicine found that, “those who adhered to a walking program showed significant improvements in blood pressure, slowing of resting heart rate, reduction of body fat and body weight, reduced cholesterol, improved depression scores with better quality of life and increased measure of endurance.” If that’s not enough, a recent study from Stanford University found that “walking boosts creative output by 60 percent…” Research suggests that, because walking utilizes both the left and right sides of the body, it enhances communication between the two hemispheres of the brain. That can translate to feeling more relaxed, more in tune with body and mind, and more open to inspiration.  Contemporary essayist Rebecca Solnit puts it this way: “Walking, ideally, is a state in which the mind, the body, and the world are aligned, as though they were three characters finally in conversation together, three notes suddenly making a chord” (Wanderlust: a History of Walking, Granta Publications.)

If you’re planning an outing, you may want to check out these guides: Walking San Francisco, by Tom Downs, Wilderness Press; Stairway Walks in San Francisco, by Adah Bakalinsky, Wilderness Press; Walking San Francisco’s 49-Mile Scenic Drive, by Kristine Poggioli and Carolyn Eidson, Craven Street Books. If you’re feeling more adventurous, consider Moon 101 Great Hikes of the San Francisco Bay Area, by Ann Marie Brown, Moon Travel, or 100 Hikes in the San Francisco Bay Area, by Mark Soars, Mountaineers Books.

Ruth Weiss

“Original,” “innovative,” and “a trailblazer” are all words that have been used to describe poet Ruth Weiss, sometimes referred to as the mother of the Beats. “I don’t quite like the term Beat, bohemian would be more appropriate for me,” she once said. One of the few women poets performing on the San Francisco scene in the 1950s, Weiss died July 31 at her home in Mendocino County, California. She was 92 years old. She was the first to read her work with live jazz accompaniment and created “a whole new performance art,” according to Jerry Cimino, founder of the Beat Museum in North Beach. It was a move that was soon adopted by others, including poet and publisher, Lawrence Ferlinghetti. As a child, Weiss fled Nazi Germany with her family, emigrating to the United States where they settled in Chicago. The author of twenty books and a contributor to numerous anthologies, including A Different Beat: Writings by Women of the Beat Generation (1997), she also appeared in several films, including  Luminous Procuress (1971), directed by Steven Arnold. An award-winning documentary, ruth weiss, the beat goddess, directed by Melody C. Miller was released last year and, just recently, Weiss was awarded the 2020 Maverick Spirit Award from the Cinequest Film Festival.

Poetry in the Schools 

Poet and critic Kadish Morris tells how “poetry saved me” and why denying it to students is a mistake, particularly for speakers of English as a second or other language. (August 9, 2020, www.theguardian.com.)