Last week’s Walk It Off with Robert Moor, author of On Trails, is filled with so much wisdom about walking, and Robert touched on so many reasons why he personally loves to walk. Which got me thinking, I haven’t asked y’all the one simple question that I ask so many of my guests, “What do you love about walking?” From the simple to the complex, I want to hear what most thrills you about going for a walk.
I started walking many years ago, living in a small town north of Montreal. Mainly to get my boys out and about, but once they were grown and moved away, I kept at it for my own physical and mental health. It's habit now, walking up and down hills, seeing the forests and lakes change with the seasons.
The new thing I started is I printed out a map of my town and decided this past spring to walk EVERY road here. Some I've never gone down, some new, some now locked to people who don't live on that road. But I've put in the miles, I watched the changes, said good morning to fellow early morning exercisers and hunkered down to feed the squirrels. It's MY town. I now know it better than I ever did and it still surprises me. I'm not finished as we have many miles of roads, mostly dirt (my favs) and some out in the boonies that I have to drive to in order to traverse their miles! And then when I get home, I highlight the road just taken on my map and plot the next adventure. I take pictures along the way, including the street signs so I remember where the oldest house in the town is located! Sometimes I listen to podcasts or audio books (Wool is currently on tap) and sometimes I just listen to nature. It's freeing, it's eye opening, and it's the best fresh air ever! I'm glad you've started your own adventure and I hope it brings you as much joy as mine does for me.
The soundbite I give is that it gets me out of my head. The backstory is that, historically, my head has not been the safest place to be alone. I have OCD, not the kind that stars in Hollywood movies. My illness is mostly invisible: crippling indecision, a voice that whispers that everything I do, every choice I make is wrong, refusing to let me move on. Skipping like a record, taking me back to each mistake. Medication, meditation, therapy, and writing are tools that I use. Quarantine was the perfect storm of isolation, hormones, and general existential questioning of my life choices coinciding with a world on fire. With nowhere to be, I started to go on long walks. Not hustle-hard-to-catch-the-train-to-make-it-to-work walking. But walking like a child. Wandering. Wondering what I could find that might make me smile. I’d take pictures- messages scrawled by the sidewalk chalk prophets, signs in windows made by children. And so many photos of trees and their shadows, rooted and reaching, a long living history. All of these things, I realize now were doing more than making me happy. They were giving me hope. They were showing me something bigger than myself and helping me feel connected to it despite my isolation.
Now, when my anxiety is amped, or the whisper in my head is constricting my life into a list of wrong choices or missed opportunities, I realize that this too is an isolation, stranded with these thoughts, no buffer between us. I put on my shoes and go for a walk. My mind widens beneath the sky, which doesn’t mean that I’m not sad or worried or stressed. But somehow the focus shifts, the contraction of uncertainty, regret, or shame (often the combo platter!) that was squeezing me breathless relaxes. A full-body sigh. The sights, sounds, shadows, and smells lift the needle of my thoughts out of the groove it’s been stuck in. Suddenly that voice feels further away, enough distance to doubt it.
That doesn’t mean that everything is sunshine and show tunes, or that I find the answers to solve my problems. Some of my best walks have been beneath moody skies that are threatening rain, listening to sad music, just feeling what I feel without trying to talk myself out of it or make it into something productive. Just being in it, feeling shitty. Walking outside I’m very aware that my feelings are weather and that they too will change. And that at any moment everything could change. I’ve lost two nephews to suicide so I am well-versed in the darkest version of the way your world can change in a heartbeat. When I walk I feel the brightest side of this fact, all the possibilities the world offers just one step, or breath, or street away.
What I've recently discovered is that walking, for me, is writing, in this beautiful, organic (I know, I’m sick of that word too- I used to work at Whole Foods but cut me some slack just this once;) way. I loved the interview with Robert Moor because I felt so deeply what he said about writing as he walks. Giving my brain permission to wander, coupled with the steady beat of my body pushing against the earth untangles something, makes space for the words to find me. I talk-to-text them into my phone to figure out later (which is sometimes its own adventure).
I don’t outwalk what I’m feeling. I walk into it. Even my fear and sadness grow somehow softer in the sunlight, like a coat wrapped around my shoulders. Something that can be taken off, and laid down, not a defining part of my DNA, which is how it sometimes feels. As I follow the rhythm of my feet forward I understand-not with my brain but on a cellular level- that every single second provides a new movement out of where I was standing the moment before. And somewhere inside this knowing is a hope that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other, physically and metaphorically.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk on Walking (and writing) with OCD. ;) And for asking this question. I can't wait to read some other responses.
Walking is my church. When I first moved to New York, I would wonder the city aimlessly for hours to both explore my new home and to see where I land. Through the process I fell in love with New York and the sanctity of being alone yet part of something bigger.
Something I can do alone, something I PREFER to do alone. When I kept walking by night-blooming jasmine, it kept almost-triggering a memory, & then, it came: it smells like rice pudding. To me, anyway. Early morning, the platinum, glittery, insane tracks of snails on the sidewalk. They use a map I can't parse, but love, anyway. So. Walking.
Why I love walking has often been about making connections with people and places. In college, for a whole year, two of my girlfriends and I walked every evening all around the little college town and campus, talking and talking and talking. It was great stress relief and great fun. Moving far away from home to a new state where I knew no one, walking was my way of connecting to the place, of getting to know my new home, and of making connections with people. As a new faculty member years later, I walked regularly with two of my new colleagues--both older than I--and they became my friends and mentors. As a new mom, walking with the babies was a way to get outside, out of my head, and back into activity. As a family, walking together especially in the woods or at the beach has been our way to be away from screens and busy-ness in our lives. And now walking is my therapy. Last January, I had a heart attack at age 49 caused by a fairly obscure condition called spontaneous coronary artery dissection. I think my SCAD was caused by stress, though there's no way to know for sure. Now my exercise activities have to be gentle, non-straining, and consistent, which all add up to walking in my book. So I still love walking for the ways it can connect you to your place and to others, I need and love walking now because it is healing.
It's the movement forward to an unspecified destination that I find soothing. I found it therapeutic when I was struggling from depression, and I find it extremely relaxing and energising now that I'm in a good place mentally. I like switching off to the walk and just walking without listening to anything (though I will often use the walking time to listen to a long podcast). When I switch off, I just walk and let myself blend in with my surroundings, my ears tuned to the sounds around me, my eyes opened to things I may otherwise not have seen. Walking's great!
I've lived in New York all my adult life so walking has always been central, but in a functional way, as it was just my preferred method of transit. It was only when I moved to Florence, Italy, for a year that I became accustomed to the meander without motivation, learning the city and as much of the culture as I could soak up through street-level detail. I was there during the first lockdown in March 2020, where we weren't allowed to go for a walk without a strictly-defined purpose (food, health care, or essential work). It was my greatest daydream during that time, along with going to the sea, to go for a stroll, and I think I've gone for a long walk every day since, especially since returning to NYC last fall. And now, here, I see the city with new eyes.
Walking lets me breathe, feel, see, smell, and hear what I miss when I'm encased in a car. Even when I walk the same routes, i always discover something that is new, that has changed or that I've never noticed before. It's a way to experience new places more intimately. I like how my body feels after a long morning walk. The day always goes better. All I have to do to get away is put one foot in front of the other.
I used to walk commute in southern California. What I loved is that I formed visual relationships with the people I would see most days. Not enough to know names but to know a tiny bit about each others routines and ways of being outside. Once, when I was back after being away for the week, one of my fellow foot commuters commented about my absence. When I was pregnant it gave them a reason to talk to me more (as my speed slowed way down!). It was very comforting to know that we all played a small part in each other's routine.
I’ve been in CDMX for a week now and I’ve been walking around this new neighborhood (Condesa). There’s so many things I love about walking here: I love noticing the people, the street vendors, I love wondering and getting lost. I notice new things here like their different types of plants and flowers. Or their choice of fonts. I love walking because it allows me to be invisible but also love noticing all the things that are new to me.
After being here for a little over a week, I have become more familiar with the neighborhood and it feels good to notice your surroundings. I feel proud of myself because I had so much anxiety about leaving New York. Though now that I’m nearing the end of my trip, I can’t wait to come back for longer.
Walking provides a space for my thoughts to alternately wander and/or respond to sensory stimulation. The smell of noodles wafting from a restaurant could trigger the memory of finding a Tibetan place hidden under the street vendor canopies in Hong Kong. Sometimes though, the senses remain on autopilot while my mind chews on a topic in the rhythms of my walk. Either way, the experience remains meditative.
Everything. Running has always been my preferred outdoor activity, but walking has this beautiful quality of slow discovery to it: you see so much more, and it is so much more conducive to community and conversation and spontaneous exploration. I live in LA, don't own a car, and walk everywhere. It makes me feel I know the city so much more intimately than I would otherwise.
Walking is the closest I get to meditation, as more still forms of meditation have proved highly incompatible with my adhd. Walking has a rhythm which structures my breath-beat, distracts half my whirring brain in the very act of doing it, and let's my conscious thoughts soar and meander about peacefully in a way that no seated meditation has ever done. Also in helping with my adhd, it is a form of active transition time to take me from one headspace to another, to help me switch large scale focus. See: waking>work, work>pleasure, homework>homework.
I love walking for many reasons, but perhaps the most fulfilling is when it helps me clear my head. When I'm caught up in my own thoughts or in a bad mood, walking always helps. I have a route through Brooklyn that takes me through my neighborhood, then Prospect Park, then my favorite fountain/sculpture in Grand Army Plaza, then past 3-4 bookstores that I love to browse. At the end, I always feel mentally refreshed.
There's always something, isn't there? Cool bugs, the smell of someone's fireplace, an argument to eavesdrop on, a cute kid/dog/bird, shop windows, flowers, trees. I talk out a lot of stuff to myself when I walk, and burn off a lot of anxiety. I grew up in Boston, my parents were walkers, and I spent most of my adolescence at various points on the T. When I was in college in upstate NY, I used to walk for hours every afternoon, just meandering. My grades stunk, but I saw a lot of neat stuff and worked out a lot of wacky ideas. I used to be late for everything (and frequently soaked) because I preferred walking to feeling queasy and clammy on a train.
So many things. When I walk with my husband, we are (mostly) away from distractions of work and home and have time to talk or simply be. When I walk by myself I can look and listen to the world around me. And when I walk with a dear friend, I can catch up in an uninterrupted way. I need to remind myself of the peace and connection walking brings when I tell myself I don't have time to do it. It's always worth it. <3
When the pandemic came along I started walking in the evenings. Sometimes on my walks I would put books and magazines in the neighborhood book exchanges A few times I've walked with friends but it wasn't the same as walking by myself. I like to set my own pace listen to my surroundings and feel my body in motion. Today I walked in a nearby little park getting into the rhythm till I realized I'd walked for 10-15 minutes without being aware of it. The park is near a wooded area so it's not unusual to see three or four rabbits in the morning.
I particularly enjoy walking at the beach. I like to walk in the morning and evening putting my feet in the wet sand, collecting seashells and delighted while doing it. Last April one fellow Beachcomber said she'd see me on the beach several times and I was always smiling.
16 years ago I was diagnosed with a very rare neuromuscular disease and I thought I would never be able to walk without metal forearm crutches. Slowly with treatment and a lot of determination I'm plodding along without anybody having any idea that at one time I couldn't stand on my own two feet. I'm grateful that I can walk and enjoy nature.
I first got into walking during middle school--the buses would always take forever in the morning, and walking for thirty minutes was quicker than waiting at a bus stop for twenty minutes. As I got older, it became something I did when I was mad or in need of some time to myself and my thoughts. When I got into photography, it got me walking even more because I had to seek out inspiration for photos. It got me to explore places outside my neck of the woods. In short, I'd say it's the most basic form of self-care for me.
Walking can be whatever I want it to be. City scape or woods or seashore or hills — whatever I need at that moment walking can be. It’s always available.
Walking (especially alone in the woods) keeps me grounded and helps me recalibrate the important things in my life. Bonus points to help keep me sober. Always a plus!
Hello! New to this newsletter and looking forward to where it takes me. If you google (using Duck Duck Go ;) "pedal creatures" you'll see lots of images, and not many humans, all on the go. You won't see any sitting looking at screens. We've lost our bodies!! Meandering through space can help save us from a fate worse than ...
Great new book to check out: The Extended Mind - Annie Murphy Paul
I like that when you're walking, there's not much else you can be doing (not for lack of trying sometimes). It's purposeful, even when it's not. Forward is really the only way, even when you're going in circles. As much as I've always loved tuning into the sounds of the city, for the past few months I've been listening to playlists I've made for the occasion, soundtracking my own little music video or montage. Walking can have big main character energy, which maybe you need sometimes.
Walking is a chance to experience nature in a way that is not readily visible or able to be similarly appreciated from a car, bicycle or other conveyance. It is a slowed down journey with the ability to stop at will--to look, smell, relax, share. I like thinking when I walk, whether on a treadmill for exercise or when hiking in the mountains, through forests, along the coast or through Town. Walking allows me to unwind, rewind, and move forward.
I started walking many years ago, living in a small town north of Montreal. Mainly to get my boys out and about, but once they were grown and moved away, I kept at it for my own physical and mental health. It's habit now, walking up and down hills, seeing the forests and lakes change with the seasons.
The new thing I started is I printed out a map of my town and decided this past spring to walk EVERY road here. Some I've never gone down, some new, some now locked to people who don't live on that road. But I've put in the miles, I watched the changes, said good morning to fellow early morning exercisers and hunkered down to feed the squirrels. It's MY town. I now know it better than I ever did and it still surprises me. I'm not finished as we have many miles of roads, mostly dirt (my favs) and some out in the boonies that I have to drive to in order to traverse their miles! And then when I get home, I highlight the road just taken on my map and plot the next adventure. I take pictures along the way, including the street signs so I remember where the oldest house in the town is located! Sometimes I listen to podcasts or audio books (Wool is currently on tap) and sometimes I just listen to nature. It's freeing, it's eye opening, and it's the best fresh air ever! I'm glad you've started your own adventure and I hope it brings you as much joy as mine does for me.
Walking forces me out of my own head. It physically rotates my eyeballs so I will join the world. A respite that has saved me many times.
The soundbite I give is that it gets me out of my head. The backstory is that, historically, my head has not been the safest place to be alone. I have OCD, not the kind that stars in Hollywood movies. My illness is mostly invisible: crippling indecision, a voice that whispers that everything I do, every choice I make is wrong, refusing to let me move on. Skipping like a record, taking me back to each mistake. Medication, meditation, therapy, and writing are tools that I use. Quarantine was the perfect storm of isolation, hormones, and general existential questioning of my life choices coinciding with a world on fire. With nowhere to be, I started to go on long walks. Not hustle-hard-to-catch-the-train-to-make-it-to-work walking. But walking like a child. Wandering. Wondering what I could find that might make me smile. I’d take pictures- messages scrawled by the sidewalk chalk prophets, signs in windows made by children. And so many photos of trees and their shadows, rooted and reaching, a long living history. All of these things, I realize now were doing more than making me happy. They were giving me hope. They were showing me something bigger than myself and helping me feel connected to it despite my isolation.
Now, when my anxiety is amped, or the whisper in my head is constricting my life into a list of wrong choices or missed opportunities, I realize that this too is an isolation, stranded with these thoughts, no buffer between us. I put on my shoes and go for a walk. My mind widens beneath the sky, which doesn’t mean that I’m not sad or worried or stressed. But somehow the focus shifts, the contraction of uncertainty, regret, or shame (often the combo platter!) that was squeezing me breathless relaxes. A full-body sigh. The sights, sounds, shadows, and smells lift the needle of my thoughts out of the groove it’s been stuck in. Suddenly that voice feels further away, enough distance to doubt it.
That doesn’t mean that everything is sunshine and show tunes, or that I find the answers to solve my problems. Some of my best walks have been beneath moody skies that are threatening rain, listening to sad music, just feeling what I feel without trying to talk myself out of it or make it into something productive. Just being in it, feeling shitty. Walking outside I’m very aware that my feelings are weather and that they too will change. And that at any moment everything could change. I’ve lost two nephews to suicide so I am well-versed in the darkest version of the way your world can change in a heartbeat. When I walk I feel the brightest side of this fact, all the possibilities the world offers just one step, or breath, or street away.
What I've recently discovered is that walking, for me, is writing, in this beautiful, organic (I know, I’m sick of that word too- I used to work at Whole Foods but cut me some slack just this once;) way. I loved the interview with Robert Moor because I felt so deeply what he said about writing as he walks. Giving my brain permission to wander, coupled with the steady beat of my body pushing against the earth untangles something, makes space for the words to find me. I talk-to-text them into my phone to figure out later (which is sometimes its own adventure).
I don’t outwalk what I’m feeling. I walk into it. Even my fear and sadness grow somehow softer in the sunlight, like a coat wrapped around my shoulders. Something that can be taken off, and laid down, not a defining part of my DNA, which is how it sometimes feels. As I follow the rhythm of my feet forward I understand-not with my brain but on a cellular level- that every single second provides a new movement out of where I was standing the moment before. And somewhere inside this knowing is a hope that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other, physically and metaphorically.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk on Walking (and writing) with OCD. ;) And for asking this question. I can't wait to read some other responses.
Walking is my church. When I first moved to New York, I would wonder the city aimlessly for hours to both explore my new home and to see where I land. Through the process I fell in love with New York and the sanctity of being alone yet part of something bigger.
Walking is like going to the movies by myself--it's a way to be alone within a communal experience.
The meditative nature and the way it helps me get better at noticing small bits of every day beauty as a photographer.
Something I can do alone, something I PREFER to do alone. When I kept walking by night-blooming jasmine, it kept almost-triggering a memory, & then, it came: it smells like rice pudding. To me, anyway. Early morning, the platinum, glittery, insane tracks of snails on the sidewalk. They use a map I can't parse, but love, anyway. So. Walking.
Why I love walking has often been about making connections with people and places. In college, for a whole year, two of my girlfriends and I walked every evening all around the little college town and campus, talking and talking and talking. It was great stress relief and great fun. Moving far away from home to a new state where I knew no one, walking was my way of connecting to the place, of getting to know my new home, and of making connections with people. As a new faculty member years later, I walked regularly with two of my new colleagues--both older than I--and they became my friends and mentors. As a new mom, walking with the babies was a way to get outside, out of my head, and back into activity. As a family, walking together especially in the woods or at the beach has been our way to be away from screens and busy-ness in our lives. And now walking is my therapy. Last January, I had a heart attack at age 49 caused by a fairly obscure condition called spontaneous coronary artery dissection. I think my SCAD was caused by stress, though there's no way to know for sure. Now my exercise activities have to be gentle, non-straining, and consistent, which all add up to walking in my book. So I still love walking for the ways it can connect you to your place and to others, I need and love walking now because it is healing.
It's the movement forward to an unspecified destination that I find soothing. I found it therapeutic when I was struggling from depression, and I find it extremely relaxing and energising now that I'm in a good place mentally. I like switching off to the walk and just walking without listening to anything (though I will often use the walking time to listen to a long podcast). When I switch off, I just walk and let myself blend in with my surroundings, my ears tuned to the sounds around me, my eyes opened to things I may otherwise not have seen. Walking's great!
I've lived in New York all my adult life so walking has always been central, but in a functional way, as it was just my preferred method of transit. It was only when I moved to Florence, Italy, for a year that I became accustomed to the meander without motivation, learning the city and as much of the culture as I could soak up through street-level detail. I was there during the first lockdown in March 2020, where we weren't allowed to go for a walk without a strictly-defined purpose (food, health care, or essential work). It was my greatest daydream during that time, along with going to the sea, to go for a stroll, and I think I've gone for a long walk every day since, especially since returning to NYC last fall. And now, here, I see the city with new eyes.
Walking lets me breathe, feel, see, smell, and hear what I miss when I'm encased in a car. Even when I walk the same routes, i always discover something that is new, that has changed or that I've never noticed before. It's a way to experience new places more intimately. I like how my body feels after a long morning walk. The day always goes better. All I have to do to get away is put one foot in front of the other.
I used to walk commute in southern California. What I loved is that I formed visual relationships with the people I would see most days. Not enough to know names but to know a tiny bit about each others routines and ways of being outside. Once, when I was back after being away for the week, one of my fellow foot commuters commented about my absence. When I was pregnant it gave them a reason to talk to me more (as my speed slowed way down!). It was very comforting to know that we all played a small part in each other's routine.
I’ve been in CDMX for a week now and I’ve been walking around this new neighborhood (Condesa). There’s so many things I love about walking here: I love noticing the people, the street vendors, I love wondering and getting lost. I notice new things here like their different types of plants and flowers. Or their choice of fonts. I love walking because it allows me to be invisible but also love noticing all the things that are new to me.
After being here for a little over a week, I have become more familiar with the neighborhood and it feels good to notice your surroundings. I feel proud of myself because I had so much anxiety about leaving New York. Though now that I’m nearing the end of my trip, I can’t wait to come back for longer.
Walking provides a space for my thoughts to alternately wander and/or respond to sensory stimulation. The smell of noodles wafting from a restaurant could trigger the memory of finding a Tibetan place hidden under the street vendor canopies in Hong Kong. Sometimes though, the senses remain on autopilot while my mind chews on a topic in the rhythms of my walk. Either way, the experience remains meditative.
Everything. Running has always been my preferred outdoor activity, but walking has this beautiful quality of slow discovery to it: you see so much more, and it is so much more conducive to community and conversation and spontaneous exploration. I live in LA, don't own a car, and walk everywhere. It makes me feel I know the city so much more intimately than I would otherwise.
Walking is the closest I get to meditation, as more still forms of meditation have proved highly incompatible with my adhd. Walking has a rhythm which structures my breath-beat, distracts half my whirring brain in the very act of doing it, and let's my conscious thoughts soar and meander about peacefully in a way that no seated meditation has ever done. Also in helping with my adhd, it is a form of active transition time to take me from one headspace to another, to help me switch large scale focus. See: waking>work, work>pleasure, homework>homework.
I love walking for many reasons, but perhaps the most fulfilling is when it helps me clear my head. When I'm caught up in my own thoughts or in a bad mood, walking always helps. I have a route through Brooklyn that takes me through my neighborhood, then Prospect Park, then my favorite fountain/sculpture in Grand Army Plaza, then past 3-4 bookstores that I love to browse. At the end, I always feel mentally refreshed.
There's always something, isn't there? Cool bugs, the smell of someone's fireplace, an argument to eavesdrop on, a cute kid/dog/bird, shop windows, flowers, trees. I talk out a lot of stuff to myself when I walk, and burn off a lot of anxiety. I grew up in Boston, my parents were walkers, and I spent most of my adolescence at various points on the T. When I was in college in upstate NY, I used to walk for hours every afternoon, just meandering. My grades stunk, but I saw a lot of neat stuff and worked out a lot of wacky ideas. I used to be late for everything (and frequently soaked) because I preferred walking to feeling queasy and clammy on a train.
So many things. When I walk with my husband, we are (mostly) away from distractions of work and home and have time to talk or simply be. When I walk by myself I can look and listen to the world around me. And when I walk with a dear friend, I can catch up in an uninterrupted way. I need to remind myself of the peace and connection walking brings when I tell myself I don't have time to do it. It's always worth it. <3
When the pandemic came along I started walking in the evenings. Sometimes on my walks I would put books and magazines in the neighborhood book exchanges A few times I've walked with friends but it wasn't the same as walking by myself. I like to set my own pace listen to my surroundings and feel my body in motion. Today I walked in a nearby little park getting into the rhythm till I realized I'd walked for 10-15 minutes without being aware of it. The park is near a wooded area so it's not unusual to see three or four rabbits in the morning.
I particularly enjoy walking at the beach. I like to walk in the morning and evening putting my feet in the wet sand, collecting seashells and delighted while doing it. Last April one fellow Beachcomber said she'd see me on the beach several times and I was always smiling.
16 years ago I was diagnosed with a very rare neuromuscular disease and I thought I would never be able to walk without metal forearm crutches. Slowly with treatment and a lot of determination I'm plodding along without anybody having any idea that at one time I couldn't stand on my own two feet. I'm grateful that I can walk and enjoy nature.
I first got into walking during middle school--the buses would always take forever in the morning, and walking for thirty minutes was quicker than waiting at a bus stop for twenty minutes. As I got older, it became something I did when I was mad or in need of some time to myself and my thoughts. When I got into photography, it got me walking even more because I had to seek out inspiration for photos. It got me to explore places outside my neck of the woods. In short, I'd say it's the most basic form of self-care for me.
PUPPIES!
Walking can be whatever I want it to be. City scape or woods or seashore or hills — whatever I need at that moment walking can be. It’s always available.
Walking (especially alone in the woods) keeps me grounded and helps me recalibrate the important things in my life. Bonus points to help keep me sober. Always a plus!
Hello! New to this newsletter and looking forward to where it takes me. If you google (using Duck Duck Go ;) "pedal creatures" you'll see lots of images, and not many humans, all on the go. You won't see any sitting looking at screens. We've lost our bodies!! Meandering through space can help save us from a fate worse than ...
Great new book to check out: The Extended Mind - Annie Murphy Paul
See you on the block!
Photography is one of the main reasons I get out of the house to absorb the world around me
I like that when you're walking, there's not much else you can be doing (not for lack of trying sometimes). It's purposeful, even when it's not. Forward is really the only way, even when you're going in circles. As much as I've always loved tuning into the sounds of the city, for the past few months I've been listening to playlists I've made for the occasion, soundtracking my own little music video or montage. Walking can have big main character energy, which maybe you need sometimes.
Walking is a chance to experience nature in a way that is not readily visible or able to be similarly appreciated from a car, bicycle or other conveyance. It is a slowed down journey with the ability to stop at will--to look, smell, relax, share. I like thinking when I walk, whether on a treadmill for exercise or when hiking in the mountains, through forests, along the coast or through Town. Walking allows me to unwind, rewind, and move forward.