Preface

It is probably a bit much to have a preface after an introduction, but I am still warming up to this thing. The other reason for that title is that the last post looked back in time and now I want to look forward.

Let me start with Robert Hunter's words from the song, Ripple:

There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone

One of my favorite types of story or novel is the journey where the author or the protagonist makes a journey and while traveling there is some significant psychological development. Tony Horwitz's 2002 Blue Latitudes, Boldly Going where Captain Cook has Gone Before is a variation on the theme in which there are two travelers, Cook (along with his sailors and passengers) and Horwitz.

It seems to me that in traveling, we leave our ordinary habits of mind behind with our ordinary lives and have an easier time getting into "beginner's mind." Being in new places, it's easy to look on them with fresh eyes and be open to the possibilities.

So, in this blog, I hope to be able to reflect upon the journey, starting with a brief mention of two little ones this weekend.

This weekend was cold in Nashville (highs in the 30s), but not so cold as it has been. Having been cooped up for a while, I was anxious to exercise and my preference for that is always outdoors. So on Saturday I hiked along Henry's Creek in Beaman Park.















On Sunday afternoon I biked through Percy Warner. I stopped and took the trail down to Dripping Spring and found this sycamore leaf. It was late afternoon when I heard a barred owl.

Introduction

I imagine "calling Shotgun" was an institution in lots of families. In my family of origin, there was another reason to want to sit next the driver besides getting to see better and the legroom. On family trips, the person riding shotgun also was "the navigator." It was a rare situation in which I got to tell my father where to go.

I do remember when I learned which way was north. I think I was about ten. We talked about that in my family. It seemed kind of arbitrary, but I figured it was just part of what people know. That was probably about the time I learned to read maps. It wasn't until I was around 18 that I learned that there are people who don't always know which way is north. Later I learned that there are people who don't read maps for fun and don't feel disoriented upon landing in an airport in a new place until figuring out the directions.

So, you begin to see why the name of this blog. Family and friends call me up on the phone when they are lost. Even when they are in different cities. When I lived in New England for a while, I joined the New England Orienteering Club. My wife says she doesn't need a GPS, she's got me. However, it wasn't until I started hanging around with recreational tree climbers (the subject of a future post) that it became official. I was told that if I didn't choose a nickname, someone would choose one for me. While I was trying to come up with something, a friend from New Tribe suggested The Navigator and I decided I could do a lot worse.