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It takes me 12 minutes to get from my car to class.
10 on a good day.
I park in the green zones. They're the cheapest, but also the furthest away. The route I trudge along has changed over the semester. As my university’s campus has become more familiar, I’ve discovered all the alternative routes and shortcuts I can take.
One thing about me is that I am terribly impatient (I am my father's daughter). I love a hidden courtyard to cut through, or skinny lane to meander down. I love taking the diagonal across the grass, or the road over the wayward footpath. This habit exists between a desire to squeeze out every possible drop of time from my life, and a silly game to play in my head. I’m constantly racing against an invisible, internal clock. Beyond efficiency, impatience, and entertainment, this habit stems, at its core, from an insatiable curiosity. A longing to discover, to know, and to experience more.
We live in a world where many of our journeys are paved before us; endless, meandering paths intended to serve us all equally somehow. Sure, some offshoots take us in different directions, but these are standardised, and built with expected destinations in mind. Over time, I’ve begun to realise that the path I’ve been following isn’t the right one for me. I think it was inevitable; we all start down paths we later realise were wrong turns or deviations, and my curiosity was bound to lead me astray at some point. The confusion of winding up somewhere that doesn’t feel right doesn’t make it any easier, though.
These past few weeks, I’ve plucked up the courage to leave the path entirely. To step foot on the unsealed dirt and feel my way to an elusive destination. It’s going to be a slow, unsteady process, but an integral one. And I’m not the first to do it.
The first time I heard about “desire lines”, I fell in love with their capacity to hold layers and layers of meaning. Merriam-Webster defines them as “an unplanned route or path (such as one worn into a grassy surface by repeated foot traffic) that is used by pedestrians in preference to, or in the absence of, a designated alternative (such as a paved pathway)”.
These lines represent the inextinguishable human desire for adventure.
The quiet ways we allow ourselves to be drawn from what is easiest towards what feels true, time and time again.
The ubiquitousness of our yearning.
There's a concept in landscape architecture called a desire line. It refers to a path worn into the ground…in defiance of the planned curves of sidewalks and roadways.
— Henry Grabar
Perhaps my departure from the path I’d been following will be short-lived, and I’ll return to it at a different point, later in time. As the saying goes, all roads lead to Rome. I’d still like to believe the journey I take to get there makes all the difference, even if only to me.
Perhaps I’ll find myself along the way.
Yours in rumination,
Caitlin ❧
In case you missed it…
My Year of Rot and Rumination // From Budding to Blooming
Dearest Ruminator,
Let it be known that this is my second attempt at writing to you. At trying to adequately and gracefully thank you for being here and losing (or finding?) yourself amongst myriad musings from a stranger on the internet. Let it be known that thank you doesn’t quite cut it.
Nearly a year ago today, I launched Ruminations...
beautiful!!
I am so happy I found your page, I have binged some of your pieces for the past couple of minutes and I am in awe. Thank you for sharing the inner workings of your mind as they are lessons and a gift xx