Here’s how it began: three households of neighbors turned out to see me off. They walked the first few blocks with me, one of them (a professional photographer) snapping pictures as we went.

Where my road left the neighborhood, my wife gave me a last hug, the neighbors all called out farewells, and off I went.

These first two days, I’ve been completely consumed by the simple task of re-inhabiting my body The fact is, I was not in shape for this! The first third of the first day was near-effortless, but at about the two-thirds mark that day, I commenced to feel dizzy and had to lie down for half an hour. This taught me that, at age 56, my body is not as good at oxygenating my muscles and eliminating the waste carbon dioxide as it was when I was young I have to go slower than I feel like going, and take frequent rests, to keep my muscles oxygen-fed. This may change as I proceed.

Omaha’s a pretty little city. I’ve only lived there for two and a half years; my route that first day took me down streets I hadn’t travelled before. Big trees and manicured lawns: I was reminded of biologist E. O. Wilson’s comment that humans try to recreate the African savannah where their distant ancestors evolved, with its open grasslands and scattered trees; if the land we’re on doesn’t already look like the savannah, we remake it to look that way, regardless of the stresses this puts on the natural ecosystem.

I stayed that night with a couple who are old established pillars of my local monthly meeting. The next day my path took me over the Missouri, and after a few miles of level walking I began climbing out of the valley.

Again I felt the age of my body. Going up a lovely little gravel road into the Loess Hills, I found I needed to stop every hundred feet, and lean over and breathe for a minute or two, before proceeding; it took me two and a quarter hours to travel three miles that way. And my total ascent was only 500 feet! My, I’m out of shape. (Of course, carrying a 70-pound pack didn’t make the task any easier.)

But it was lovely. Surrounded by trees in the full glory of mid-spring, tall green grasses, birds singing out warnings of my approach; a cool north wind scudding grey clouds overhead, the road winding up, and down, and up again.

The final complication was blistering. I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was well advanced; unlike when I was young, the aggravation was neither painful or visible at first, and I thought I was handling it fine with rests. But by the time I arrived at my second-night host’s home, I had swiftly developed a blister that was crippling my walk — and by this morning, examining myself, I realized I had a serious problem.

So I’m probably going to have to catch rides for part of the distance I travel each day, the next few days, to give it a chance to subside and heal, so that it doesn’t progress to the point of infection. More’s the pity; I was looking forward to the walk! And I’m going to have to figure out how to prevent a repetition of the problem. But the trip, at least, will go on.

The deepest and most important level of experience, these first two days, has been the swift quieting of my mind and heart. When you’re exerting yourself constantly, as I have been, the energy goes to the exertion, and to attentiveness to the situation when you’re in, and apart from the exertion and attentiveness, the body (at least mine) saves energy by shutting things down. So I did very little thinking, and even less wandering-of-mind. And this is very good! I know from experience that when I am in this condition, I am putting up minimal resistance to the process of being changed. The Spirit has to work on me; I’ve been feeling the need of it for a long, long time. This is a grand way to give it a free and clear chance.

My second-night host does environmental remediation for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers — toxic clean-up stuff — and besides me, she was also hosting an old buddy who nowadays works for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in Colorado. Perfect people to be with at this early stage of my walk. (And very fine people generally.) I talked with them as I hope to talk with Friends along this journey, asking them how they see the environmental challenges in front of us. We didn’t quite see eye to eye, I think, but we could clearly grasp and honor each other’s viewpoint, and it made for grand conversation.

Friends, I feel blessed and graced, blister notwithstanding.

Here’s a map of my journey these next two days, crossing southwestern Iowa, leaving Glenwood this morning, arriving in Emerson tonight and in Stanton tomorrow night. Notice the shadings: those are hills I must traverse at my slow, out-of-shape pace.

Tonight I expect to be camping out; tomorrow night I am the guest of a group of local left-wing religious-political activists (non-Quaker) who are curious about Quakers. I am wondering whether I’ll need to tell them that I do not have any enthusiasm for partisan politicking. And if I say such things to them, I further wonder: will they understand, or will they simply be put off?