Excerpt from the book The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane
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Srik
As I envisage it, landscape projects into us not like a jetty or peninsula, finite and bounded in its volume and reach, but instead as a kind of sunlight, flickeringly unmappable in its plays yet often quickening and illuminating. We are adept, if occasionally embarrassed, at saying what we make of places - but we are far less good at saying what places make of us. For some time now it has seemed to me that the two questions we should ask of any strong landscape are these: firstly, what do I know when I am in this place that I can know nowhere else? And then, vainly, what does this place know of me that I cannot know of myself?
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Sigh. Right questions to ask I guess.
I keep thinking whenever I am in such a place where such thoughts come to me. I ask myself several questions that I have no answer and I feel something else other than me can answer some of them.
I was on top of the cho-la pass in the year 2010 very close to Mt.Everest. I had never seen such beautiful and dangerous landscapes in my life. There were hardly any footprints nor there was any clear route to walk. Those thoughts that came to me during my journey was so inspiring in spite of not knowing what exactly they mean to me at that point in time.
Srik
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