packing ...

... since I have to carry everything I put in the rucksack, choosing what's needed and what's not is quite important ... though stuff can be jettisoned along the way and other stuff added, of course ... considering a tent, it occurred to me that at the end of each day, the universe might say, "Camping eh, here's a field, OK?" So, no tent or cooking gear . . . keeping it light to see what will appear . . .  

equanimity

. . . of all things I seek equanimity . . . peace of mind . . . daily life provides plenty of opportunities to practice . . . the sitting and walking help settle the mind and the interactions with other people sometimes stir it up . . . perhaps progress is in the time it takes for the agitation to settle . . . and then to decline the triggers, walk away from dramas which no longer serve and meet the world with a smile . . .

. . . friends sometimes say they prefer the vicissitudes to "flatlining", accepting the lows for the sake of the highs . . . then there is the conflation of equanimity and psychopathy . . . both, after all appear as emotionless states . . .

. . . these questions arise because people are saying, we will miss you, will you miss us, will you miss Stanhope, the beautiful fells . . . and I ponder, what is the compassionate response . . . the truth is, I love Stanhope, its friendly folks, its wonderful scenery . . . and I am grateful for all of it . . . and I am letting all of it go gladly . . . this doesn't feel like flatlining or psychopathy . . . just inevitability and equanimity . . .

time

. . . in the 3rd year of secondary school, the geography teacher explained how running water eroded rocks . . . this is great material for Taoism and I recruited a few friends to form the stonewatchers society whose purpose was to sit beside streams and observe the process of erosion . . . Barney, our teacher, declined the post of honorary president, sensing his reputation could be at risk in this surreal society . . . it was summer and we enjoyed the game for a while, not realising that if we had sat long enough and quiet enough, we may have transcended linear time and seen the rocks become sand . . .

philosophy

. . . the headteacher of Wimborne Grammar School (or Queen Elizabeth's Grammar School I think they called it . . . founded in the time of the first Liz so you can imagine the historic pride we were supposed to feel) was "Neddy" Neil, an effete Cambridge chap, who taught me philosophy in the lower 6th . . . the school was actually run by a sergeant major type called Joe Kerswell, with whom you did not mess . . . as for the philosophy, I remember two quotes: to thine own self be true and follow the argument wherever it leads you . . . I thought they were ancient Greek, but the first appears to be Shakespeare and not presented as a rule for living, since the words were given to Lucretius, who seems not to have been intended as an heroic role model . . . whatever, they resonated with me and confirmed my growing suspicion that my school days were over, so I spent a week or so having an existential crisis at home . . . Dad, who had always of necessity worked hard and elevated that need to a principle called Protestant Work Ethic, gave me the option of returning to my studies or getting a job and paying my way . . . within a week I found myself holding a pole for surveyors on the new road Wimpeys were building from Ringwood to Bournemouth . . . last time I looked, the road was still there, so I must have held the pole pretty straight . . . a month or two later I went off to Scotland to work at the Breadalbane Arms in Aberfeldy and some time after that set off on my first adventure, to Spain and Morrocco . . . of which more later . . .

map

Here's Google Maps' idea of the route and how long it will take - though I didn't tell them I am taking a train to Winchester, awaiting guidance during a three day retreat at the Krishnamurti Centre, following diversions according to intuition .... and possibly stopping off along the way, especially if winter sets in and a warm berth presents itself ...

solitude

I am lucky to have been able to embrace solitude for as long as I can remember ... perhaps as the third child of four there was no shortage of company at any time in my childhood and whilst I was reasonably gregarious, joining in the football, cricket and other group games, I also recall times when I climbed my favourite pine tree, in which I had made a nest at the top, and laying there watching the clouds crossing the sky .... reflecting on childhood, choosing a mother who offered unconditional love to all her children,a father who modelled self-reliance, independent thinking and a sense of justice as well as providing a sometimes authoritarian figure I could practice rebelling against, and a rural setting in which I could wander freely, provided a great platform ... and as third child a certain invisibility which was useful ... (discovering from mum that they only wanted two children amused me, though my younger sister took it rather personally ...)

Solitude is such a blessing, an opportunity to feel the connection to everything .... intimacy with a special other has been harder to sustain and I am grateful to the women who taught me about love, and set me free ... this journey to the Dao has to be taken alone to deepen the solitude and paradoxically to open the space for others to fill ... and whilst I am not walking all the way, I will be walking alone a lot and that is the time I sometimes manage to lose my mind for a while .... which is an experience hard to describe but delightful to know ...

on paradox . . .

. . . readers please be aware I embrace paradoxes, which gives the appearance of sometimes contradicting myself . . .  this began when I inadvertantly suspended the operation of the left hemisphere of my brain, having walked for several hours alone across the fells . . . in an instant I saw two things, clearly opposite, as both true . . . one: I am the centre of the universe (as are we all), two: I am completely insignificant on a cosmic scale . . . of course, playing with these extremes is the fun part . . .
. . . another thing I saw was that everything is interconnected . . . which is very mindblowing, though I don't spend much time thinking about it . . .

tools ...

Being a 21st century journey, there are contemporary tools available ... and whilst I am trusting the benevolent universe I am also equipped with a tablet and looking forward to trying out lift share site blablacar .... accommodation site couchsurfing .... longer stays with work for bed and board at helpx ... all part of the sharing economy ...

... and unlike hard core travellers, I have some money for food, the occasional train, maybe a bed for the night ... this is thanks to an amazing system I seem to have paid into almost incidentally whilst driving buses in London (this was a cover for my revolutionary activities) as well as working on play-buses in Gateshead ... it's called "pension" and over £350 a month arrives in my bank account whether I work or not ...

.... as for method, there is no plan ... just one step at a time and leaving all options open. . . with plenty of time and space for reflection to allow the journey to reveal itself . . . 

structure . . .

. . . structure of the blog . . . grammarians may have noticed my unusual punctuation . . . which I favour, since it somehow flows better without.full.stops.  life has no full stops . . . just flow with pauses . . . even at death perhaps . . . however, I do prefer to spell words correctly (English version, despite the encroachment of U.S. versions along with their expressions and cultural values) and have a slight obsession with apostrophes . . . feel free, dear reader, to pick me up on any errors you spot . . . and if I use the word "awesome", rest assured it will be describing something quite spectacular . . . well, that should trigger some American readers ( yes, Google knows where you are folks) . . . to reassure liberal friends, I do know plenty of fine Americans . . . and plenty of shallow Brits too . . . and will be reporting back on national stereotypes as I go along . . .

structure of the journey . . . is to be as free as it can be . . . without limit of time . . . without detailed plan . . . mostly one step at a time, leaving options open . . . a wonderful wander, though not always walking . . . and maybe not arriving at Rio Dao or even Portugal . . .

A Place to Be

The cottage in Stanhope was rented almost three years ago as the base for a project called A Place to Be ... at its simplest, a retreat centre in the North Pennines of England, based on an open spirituality, inspired by the Findhorn Foundation near Inverness ...

... in the way of things, the cottage has been such a place and many have visited to sit in circle, share food, silence, ideas, books and most of all, love ... which, after all, is the universe in ecstatic motion ...

... and since change is always to be embraced, the Wear & Dao journey is also an APtB journey .... wherever the journey takes me, there will surely be places to be and people creating them .... and you will see them in this space .... some may even be seeking new folks to join them or a whole new team to get them going ... in this way the original modest vision will grow and play its part in creating the new earth of which we dream ....

on non-attachment . . .

. . . interesting that there is no resistance to leaving this idyllic little cottage by the river in the friendly village of Stanhope . . . and no pull towards any new place particularly . . . it seems like a journey that wants to happen and is happening in the space between aversion and desire . . . with three weeks to go before I set off, with my life in my rucksack, there is no discernible excitement . . . only equanimity in the inevitability . . .

more history ...

.... the itch for the trip started about a year ago and I posted FB to let friends know the intention ... then Rachel arrived to say goodbye and that has taken a year ... no point rushing a farewell and the year has been beautiful ... and a chance to set away a community project called Wheels to Meals, which has worked out well .... very popular with the mostly older folks who welcome the chance to get out to local restaurants and socialise ... the cottage and garden are very pleased that Rachel is staying to take care of them ... 

. . . history

. . . who knows where these schemes start . . . this trip has been brewing for a while . . . over three years ago, I had the idea to declutter my mind and my stuff . . . the mind is a tricky one and likes to be busy . . . mindful meditation and plenty of walking over the fells helped and continues to do so . . . as for the stuff, the thought was to only have what would fit into a rucksack . . . and at the time the rucksack was quite big, with a baby day bag which zipped onto it . . .however, whatever is in the rucksack has to be carried and plenty of walking is likely . . . so I have reverted to my old and smaller one . . . three t-shirts, three pairs of boxers. three pairs of socks, spare trousers, waterproofs, spare shoes, sleeping bag, washbag, towel, survival bag . . . and the tablet for blogging of course . . . the rest, which is not that much, is going or gone . . . and I feel lighter every day . . . developing the art of mitigating gravity, known to Tibetan Lamas, will be one of my practices along the road . . .

Getting into the zone ...

First stop - a three day retreat at the beautiful Krishnamurti Centre near Winchester, Hampshire ... space booked, train booked ... Monday 3rd November is the day ...

I grew up less than an hour's drive from here and Krishnamurti was at Brockwood Park frequently in those days .... though I knew nothing about him, even when studying alternative education systems in the early 70s ... A.S Neill was the guru then and Summerhill the inspiration ... my own schooling was classical conditioning at Wimborne Grammar, which I escaped before completing the brainwash and set off on my travels to see the world outside and explore the world within ...

Last year I came across the work of Krishnamurti and paid a couple of visits to Brockwood Park ...the school is based in the old house, the centre was only finished after K's death in 1985 ... he planned it without icons or symbols, but based on sacred architecture and with easy flow from simple accommodation to tranquil meditation room to library for study to lounge for discussion and dining room for refreshment .... plus the gardens and surrounding countryside for fresh air and exercise ... this visit will be self-programmed around those elements .... should get me in the zone for the wander south ....

From here to there .... maybe

Well, here we are at Stanhope, a village in the North Pennines of England, a few miles from the source of the River Wear and the starting point of this trip ... and the best place to start, since this is where I live and it is always best to start where you are ...

... and this is the Rio Dao, where I am headed .... slowly ... I have never been there before, but I have been to Portugal a few times (of which, more later) and the word Dao or Tao resonates for me, being one of my philosophical influences ... and whilst I am not attached to getting there soon or at all, it helps to have a direction of travel ... and since winter is on its way in Stanhope, south seems a good idea ...