“Not all who wander are lost” - J.R.R. Tolkein
But sometimes, when I wander, I try to become lost, to lose my sense of this city-grid and just follow my feet, let my feel follow the contours of the sidewalk or the lawn or the road. Debord’s “Theory of the Dérive” talks about psycogeographical contours, but I must admit, in Edmonton, I’m not sure what exactly those would be. If I think about this city’s contours, the first thing that comes to mind is the grid – measured, square streets imposed on a landscape. And that grid does influence how I wander through the city – a path can only wander so much when it must take right-angle turns. But somehow I don’t think that’s all that Debord is talking about.
Lately, I’ve been drawn more and more to the river, and perhaps Debord would be drawn there too. It’s something which I tend to regard as a non-street, merely another part of the grid. My mind’s map has ironed it straight to fit with that linear landscape. But now, when I look a little closer, even if only from up above, on the Highlevel bridge, I can watch that water (even that ice, as it is this time of year) take back a bit of its life. I’ve read other writers’ words that flow with that water, and I am drawn to its current, wanting to feel its wandering poetry for myself.
“We stop on its bridges and banks, staring down into the streaming current of murky water racing east” – Myrna Kostash
East –
where the sun rises over the West,
lights up this River
and draws, with its shadows,
the contours of my Home.
