Uploaded February 2026 | Updated September 2026, 1 week ago
We’re constantly told how to think, act, buy, vote, cook, optimise.
This isn’t one of those videos.
When I give advice about compasses or reading a map, it’s based on the terrain I work in. It’s an opinion — not a rule. You’re free to disagree.
In that same spirit, here’s today’s suggestion:
Occasionally… just stop.
Not stop one task to start another.
Not stop scrolling to check something else.
Just stop doing anything society calls “productive” — and look around.
This video begins after a navigation course ends early. The morning covered the basics. The afternoon was meant to be practice — building confidence, ironing out mistakes, moving beyond “I know what it is” to “I can actually do it.”
But practice, apparently, can look like “wandering about in the hills.”
It made me wonder:
When did consolidation become optional?
When did staring into the distance become an exercise in futility?
Filmed on the eastern slopes of Knowe Fell, above Malham Tarn, this is a quiet reflection on learning, attention, and the six stages of competence — from “never heard of it” to “able to teach it.”
There’s wind on the water.
A few sheep in the distance.
Tea by the shoreline.
There’s a blade of grass quietly performing photosynthesis — splitting water molecules with sunlight, building sugars from carbon dioxide, releasing the oxygen you and I are breathing right now.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing urgent.
Nothing “efficient.”
And yet, there is wonder in it.
Wherever you are, there is always something interesting waiting to be noticed.
But only if you pause long enough.
I think I’ll stay here a while and stare into the distance.
You’re welcome to join me.
We’re constantly told how to think, act, buy, vote, cook, optimise.
This isn’t one of those videos.
When I give advice about compasses or reading a map, it’s based on the terrain I work in. It’s an opinion — not a rule. You’re free to disagree.
In that same spirit, here’s today’s suggestion:
Occasionally… just stop.
Not stop one task to start another.
Not stop scrolling to check something else.
Just stop doing anything society calls “productive” — and look around.
This video begins after a navigation course ends early. The morning covered the basics. The afternoon was meant to be practice — building confidence, ironing out mistakes, moving beyond “I know what it is” to “I can actually do it.”
But practice, apparently, can look like “wandering about in the hills.”
It made me wonder:
When did consolidation become optional?
When did staring into the distance become an exercise in futility?
Filmed on the eastern slopes of Knowe Fell, above Malham Tarn, this is a quiet reflection on learning, attention, and the six stages of competence — from “never heard of it” to “able to teach it.”
There’s wind on the water.
A few sheep in the distance.
Tea by the shoreline.
There’s a blade of grass quietly performing photosynthesis — splitting water molecules with sunlight, building sugars from carbon dioxide, releasing the oxygen you and I are breathing right now.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing urgent.
Nothing “efficient.”
And yet, there is wonder in it.
Wherever you are, there is always something interesting waiting to be noticed.
But only if you pause long enough.
I think I’ll stay here a while and stare into the distance.
You’re welcome to join me.
