An Ode to a walk…

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Lost somewhere in the recesses of the mind, in the jumble of life’s hustle & bustle, there is a memory of a simple yet magical pastime that can offer you the peace, rejuvenation, balance, and connection that you so dearly crave – that is the simple pleasure of lacing up a good pair of boots and heading out for a walk.  

This undervalued (and oft forgotten) past-time is not only beneficial because of the physical exercise, but even more-so, due to the deeper mental journey that can unfold when we let our minds wander – a journey of meditation, discovery, and appreciation for the many wonders of the landscape around us. That is, if we allow ourselves to pay attention.

I recently finished the sublime, “the old ways (A Journey on Foot)” by Robert MacFarlane, and I’m reminded of how historically ritualistic and pleasurable this simple act can be. In this majestic book, MacFarlane takes the reader on an epic pilgrimage through history, across vast networks of well-trodden paths and forgotten walkways, delving into the myriad meanings of what it means to travel and to think, and to observe, and to connect. Inspiration for MacFarlane is found in the writing of Edward Thomas and is a spiritual journey for a very talented writer, and we, the reader, benefit hugely from MacFarlane’s obvious admiration for Thomas. You should pick up a copy, I’d thoroughly recommend it. 

Now, back to the walking...If I haven’t afforded myself the time to enjoy a walk in a while, the first steps I take may feel stiff and my gait awkward, but in no time at all the mundane fades away and a sense of liberation and calm sets-in. Once my legs are sufficiently readied for the journey ahead, my stride becomes a deliberate act of rebellion from the stiffness of a sedentary week, and my mind urges me to move forward with purpose. If I have prepared a route & packed a rucksack, the journey ahead can be filled with promise of new landscapes; valleys, streams, woodlands and hills. Pure joy for the eyes, ears, and soul.

Once fully immersed in the lively thrum of mother nature, my breathing becomes regular as my legs stride-out in front of me, setting a rhythmic cadence. As my mind relaxes, I become aware of the microscopic world around me; the sights, sounds, and scents create a heady mix of sensory immersion. The gentle breeze, the uplifting call of the majestic Lark away across the fields, the furtive smell of nature – If you let it happen, a walk becomes a meditation, a communion with the natural world that nourishes the soul and restores balance to the mind.

Photo by Tim Rüßmann on Unsplash

Yes, a walk is not only a journey along a physical path; it is also a mental voyage, an opportunity to reacquaint us with our thoughts; but instead of the headspace of work, daily stresses, and anxiety, we can find ourselves free to explore new ideas, problem solve and even ponder memories. Along the journey we can untangle knots of worry, unravel stress, and find true peace amongst the wild.

Beyond the necessary solitude that we often crave, a walk can also reward us with physical connections – with friends and with the world beyond. A walk can be a shared experience, and when troubled, we can become whole again with the warm hand, or embrace of a loved one as we walk. Deep discussions on a journey can develop closer bonds and understanding, for a trouble shared is a trouble halved. In the simple act of walking side by side, strangers can become friends, lovers can dream of bright futures together and kids can learn and have fun with their parents.

Although so simple, a walk can be a truly transformative act – it can reveal our hidden thoughts to us, it can heal, inspire, and affords us the time to observe the world in all it’s beautiful and chaotic seasonal beauty. Walking is a celebration of the ordinary, the mundane made meaningful.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

The Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu, is quoted as saying that “all great journeys begin with a single step”. In this statement, there is profound wisdom. Through the very act of moving, we become stronger and with strength, we can not only endure, but we can thrive.

Dearest reader, please consider this little article as a reminder to embrace the simple yet profound act of walking as a gateway to your own self-discovery. If it’s been a while, it’ll become your new source of mindfulness and fulfilment. I invite you to put down your laptop, stow away your phone, lace up your shoes, step outside, and embark on your journey. For indeed, in every walk lies the promise of a new beginning, and often the journey is more important than the destination.

To inspire you to start your own journey, here is Edward Thomas’s, ‘roads’ (last poems, January 1916):

I love roads

The goddesses that dwell

Far along invisible

Are my favorite gods.

Roads go on

While we forget, and are

Forgotten like a star

That shoots and is gone.

On this earth 'tis sure

We men have not made             

Anything that doth fade

So soon, so long endure:

The hill road wet with rain

In the sun would not gleam

Like a winding stream

If we trod it not again.

They are lonely

While we sleep, lonelier

For lack of the traveller

Who is now a dream only. 

From dawn's twilight

And all the clouds like sheep

On the mountains of sleep

They wind into the night.

The next turn may reveal

Heaven: upon the crest

The close pine clump, at rest

Ancl black, may Hell conceal.

Often footsore, never

Yet of the road I weary,                  

Though long and steep and dreary,

As it winds on for ever.

Helen of the roads,

The mountain ways of Wales

And the Mabinogion tales,

Is one of the true gods,

Abiding in the trees,

The threes and fours so wise,

The larger companies,

That by the roadside be,

And beneath the rafter

Else uninhabited

Excepting by the dead;

And it is her laughter

At morn and night I hear

When the thrush cock sings

Bright irrelevant things,

And when the chanticleer

Calls back to their own night

Troops that make loneliness

With their light footsteps’ press,

As Helen’s own are light.

Now all roads lead to France

And heavy is the tread

Of the living; but the dead

Returning lightly dance:

Whatever the road bring

To me or take from me,

They keep me company

With their pattering,

Crowding the solitude

Of the loops over the downs,

Hushing the roar of towns

and their brief multitude.