"Walking is a spiritual practice that yields so many dividends: replenishment of the soul, connection with the natural world, problem-solving, self-esteem, health and healing, and heightened attention. Movement seems to encourage dialogue and conviviality, leading to richer conversations with soul mates, friends, and even strangers. Artists report that walking activates the imagination and opens up the creative process. It is deeply restorative."
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Walking with Wordsworth
"Walking was central to Wordsworth’s poetry, he often wrote about walking and walkers, and he composed many of his poems, just like ‘Tintern Abbey’, while out walking in the countryside.
And for me the experience of reading Wordsworth is very like going for a walk. His blank verse in particular feels like an extended ramble, where he often starts off by describing the sights and sounds of the natural world around him, and then before long he’s describing the memories and thoughts and feelings that arise in him as he walks. And I think in this portrayal of the walking experience, Wordsworth is very accurate.
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And what happens when you go for an extended hike, or certainly when I do it, is you start off by being very alert and aware of the beauty of nature, oh just look at those hills, and look! there’s a waterfall, there’s a little sparrow, there are some primroses, whatever. And all of these things stimulate the senses and also the emotions and eventually memories and daydreams, and if you’re really lucky, moments of clarity and insight.
So at the same time as you’re walking through the countryside, the physical landscape, you’re walking through your own memory, your thoughts, and your feelings about those thoughts – your own self. And so this movement between the outer work and the inner life is very, very characteristic of Wordsworth, and I think he is the preeminent poet of this kind of experience."
- Mark McGuinness, from comments on Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey
As we learn above, William Wordsworth, one of the central figures of the Romantic movement, was an avid walker who found inspiration for his poetry in the natural landscapes he explored. His walking routes were primarily in and around the English Lake District, where he lived for much of his life. While he is often celebrated as a nature poet, he might also be described as a psychological poet, as his poems frequently involve an interfusion of the landscapes he observed and appreciated with the memories and feelings they evoked within him. In reading his work, the boundary between the external world and internal introspection often dissolves, creating a unified “occasion of experience,” to borrow the terminology of Alfred North Whitehead’s philosophy.
A Sense Sublime
One might imagine that Wordsworth could sit indoors, gazing out a window at the landscape, and experience similar reveries. Yet his habit of walking underscores the idea that physical movement—particularly the rhythmic motion of walking—was integral to evoking these reveries. Notably, in Tintern Abbey, Wordsworth recalls what many interpret as a kind of mystical experience: a sense of a sacred presence interfused within nature and also within himself. This sacred presence is not the personal God of Christianity—a transcendent Thou—but rather a windlike, immanent force:
"And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean, and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things."
Mark McGuinness, in the podcast linked below, describes this experience as an encounter with the Sublime and rightly distinguishes the sublime from mere prettiness. The Sublime is an encompassing “moreness” that Wordsworth sees as profoundly good—a source of wonder. It is what is felt when, for example, we are in the presence of powerful waterfalls, or strong winds, or deep caverns, or, as is the case today with help from telescopes, the starry skies above. The James Webb telescope has given many a sense of the Sublime. This “moreness” need not be personified to be meaningful. For many, it offers a deeply felt reassurance that life transcends fame, fortune, and power—beyond appearance, affluence, and marketable achievement.
Walking as a Practice
Interestingly, Wordsworth finds this presence not through a church or hymnal, a television or cinema screen, or even a great book. Instead, it is discovered through walking, looking around, and allowing inner thoughts and memories to emerge freely. Walking becomes, in this sense, a salve for “the still sad music of humanity.” Whitehead, in Process and Reality, speaks of the “withness of the body.” In Tintern Abbey and other poems, Wordsworth illustrates how walking itself, particularly in natural settings, can become a kind of sacrament. The moving body, attuned to its senses, becomes a vessel where holiness is found.
Urban Settings: Green Spaces
For my part, I wonder how people in urban settings, surrounded by steel and concrete, might partake in the Wordsworthian sensitivity if they desire. Wordsworth found his inspiration in the English countryside, but in cities, the experience of nature is green spaces.
A green space in an urban setting is a natural area within a city or town, such as parks, gardens, greenways, or community forests, designed to provide access to greenery and nature for residents. These spaces offer vital spiritual and health benefits by creating a sanctuary from the stress of urban life, fostering a sense of connection with the natural world, and promoting mental clarity and peace.
Spiritually, green spaces can inspire reflection, mindfulness, and a deeper appreciation for the interconnectedness of life. Even within the urban environment, subtler opportunities for connection with the natural world exist. A patch of sunlight, the sounds of sparrows, or the play of wind through street trees can serve as reminders of nature’s presence amidst the cityscape. Such moments invite the same contemplative engagement that Wordsworth describes, albeit in a different context. For the observant, even the interplay between the natural and the man-made—like wildflowers growing through cracks in the pavement—can spark a quiet sense of wonder and connection.
The Rhythm of Movement
Ultimately, perhaps walking itself is the key. Whether in a countryside or a city, the rhythm of movement opens up a space for reflection, memory, and introspection. Urban parks, sidewalks, and even bustling streets offer the possibility of a walking mysticism, where intentionality and mindfulness transform the ordinary into something sacred. For those willing to notice, the “moreness” Wordsworth wrote about is present everywhere, even in the heart of the city.
On Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey
Mark McGuinness is the host of the podcast "A Mouthful of Air," where he brings poetry to life by featuring contemporary poets who read and discuss their work and explores classic poems, offering his perspectives on their meaning and appeal. His engaging and thoughtful approach makes poetry accessible and enjoyable for a wide audience, fostering a deeper appreciation for the craft.
From
Lines from Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth
I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite: a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur: other gifts Have followed, for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean, and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half-create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognize In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being.
appendix:
summary of key points of podcast for the poetically-minded