A Walk In The Park by Rev Glynn Cardy

Yesterday I got up slowly, determined that it was to be a recovery day.

Not that I’d been running a marathon, doing any hard physical activity, or any hard mental activity for that matter.  Rather it was a recovery day for the soul.

I’d been reeling from the mass murder of Israeli civilians, young people, and children.  And from the retaliatory mass murder of Palestinian civilians, young people, and children that’s still going on.  So many innocents have died and will die.  So many think right is on their side, while murder is on their hands.

Such murdering, and the justification of murdering, whether it has been in Israel, Gaza, Ukraine, or Sudan, and the double-speak of world leaders who excuse such violence, blows like noxious fumes out from their places of origin, out across our globe, to sting the eyes of our souls, even here in Aotearoa.

I’ve been affected too by the defeat of ‘The Voice’ vote to enable indigenous Australians to have more of a say in their own country.  Not that I understand all the arguments, nuances, posturing, and political machinations of our neighbours.

But something in my soul grieves, whether it be in Australia or Aotearoa, when the wisdom of the indigenous peoples, a wisdom rooted in the ages of the land, is disregarded, or seen as something at best irrelevant to the majority, rather than honoured, learnt from, and allowed to gracefully lead us down an alternate path.

When will we have the humility to recognise that our dominant culture’s way, its wealth, and its values, all that has led us to this point, is not saving the planet but aiding its demise?  Isn’t it time to consider other wisdoms?  Isn’t it time to listen to the smaller, quieter voices?

I’ve been affected too by our election results.  Not in the same way as the murdering in the Middle East or the disregard for indigenous wisdom in Australia.  It’s more that I worry about what will happen for those who are vulnerable.  Those who suffer from trauma, or poverty, or discrimination, or chronic ill-health, or are trying to begin again after prison.  Will the new powerholders, a centre-right coalition, care for those who don’t own businesses, or farms, or houses, or look like them?  Will they include those who didn’t vote for them, or those who didn’t vote for anyone?

One of the interesting things about our country is that the two main parties have many more similarities than differences, but elections are all about the latter.  So when a new government comes in, many things the last government did won’t be repealed.  Which annoys the ideologues but gives the likes of me some hope that the seeds and shoots of compassion, justice, and equity will endure.  So I want to be hopeful even when I’m fearful.

All this layered on me as I slowly arose yesterday and, without articulating to myself why, I decided to walk.  Sometimes we don’t know why we feel as we do but we know we need to walk.  To get up and go walk ourselves into a different soul space.

So dog, daypack, and I headed out.  The first hour took us through streets, a park, and to the summit of our local volcano, Maungakiekie.  Volcanos are an Auckland thing.  They are all over our city.  Nature’s skyscrapers, gyms, and vantage points for tourists.

Up on Maungakiekie I could see plenty.  I could see two oceans.  I could see the place I was born, my wife was born, and my children and grandchild too.  I could see most of the places I’ve lived, worked, and often holidayed.  I could see all the memories, and the wonderful people who have been part of them.  Good memories are great soul food.

The next hour took us all around the maunga (mountain).  Trying not to think, but to notice.  We saw friends catching up.  Tourists with camera phones and drink bottles. There was an antenatal group having a picnic.  There were school kids on some kind of large scale discover-your-park exercise, and volunteer parents with hi-vis vests directing them.  There was a fit looking 80+ year old guy doing laps of the steep ascent to the summit.  There were pheasants making pheasant noises.  Sheep and beef cattle doing their grazing thing (and being photographed by the tourists).  White van drivers snoozing in their white vans.  And lots of people like me walking with a dog, or without.

There was a lot of enjoyment out and about.  You could feel it and see it.  People being with people, and with animals.  Flowers offering their beauty.  Trees giving their grandeur.  And I didn’t think about the big issues of murder and suffering, of voices and being silenced, of inclusion and exclusion.

The last hour was spent fortifying myself with some black coffee (which was surprisingly good) and trekking off on a new direction towards home.  I was enjoying the physical sensation of walking.  Not thinking about much at all.  I talked to a woman who was lost.  She was visiting from Fiji.  We talked rugby, of course.  I stopped to buy a scone for lunch.

I arrived home satiated.  Feeling good in body and mind.  Feeling good to be alive.  Feeling recovered.  The things that weighed on my soul were of course still there, but they didn’t weigh on me the same.

Maybe I should take such a walk in the park every week.

(Photo: Ben Pitasky)

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