You. Can. Just. Walk.

Giving Yourself the Gift of Being Present

There was an old saying when I was younger that went something like, that person can’t even walk and chew gum at the same time.

I can see how this saying might be an insult, to mark someone as unable to do two things at once – or even worse, as someone who might be seen as a dimwit, an idiot, dumb, clumsy.

It might also be used as a kind of bless their heart description of someone, not really as an outright insult or attack but as a kind of pity for a person’s awkward nature or simple mindedness.

But I actually think it might be far harder for many of us to just walk without doing anything else at all. Not chewing gum, not listening to music, not talking, not tracking steps, not worried about calories, not checking the time, not thinking.

            That last one might be the hardest one. Or maybe that’s just me.

One of the things I do for my spirit almost every single day is walk in the woods. It’s the place where I find comfort and peace, it’s where I go when things are good and it’s where I go when things are hard. It’s where I go when it’s hot and sunny and where I go when it’s cold and rainy.

            It’s where I go.

The other day I noticed that I was walking fast and my head was down. I watched my shoes race past one another step by step, hurrying across the ground beneath me. I think I was holding my breath.

            We humans hold our breath a lot.

My mind was racing. I had been worried about something and the worry kept replaying in my head, but it wasn’t just the worry that was whirring, there were other things too. Random thoughts about work. A thought about the weekend. A thought about a project I needed to work on. A thought about the time. The weather. So many thoughts coming and going so quickly that really, they weren’t complete thoughts at all, they were just busy-ing me.

            Distracting me.

            Distracting me from walking.

            So I stopped.

            You know you can do this, right? It’s our way out of almost everything. We can just stop. Pause. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out…longer…longer…there you go, and hold.

            I just stopped and stood there.

I felt the rocks under my feet.

I lifted my head and looked at the dark gray clouds.

I turned around to look behind me at everything I had already missed. There was so much I had already missed.

I hadn’t even seen the puddles of water I had clearly walked around.

I didn’t even notice the way the tops of the trees looked like black marker-drawn lines against the sky.

I never even saw the yellow blooms dangling from the ends of what I thought was a tall weed.

But there they all were, just waiting for me to stop, turn around, and see.

I have this thing that I do to slow down my walking and get myself into my body to be as present as I can be.

I take One. Step. At. A-time.

I say those words out loud to match four steps: One. Step. At. A-time.  

Then I say them again a little slower as I step: One..Step..At..A-time..

Then again even slower: One…..Step…..At…..A-time…..

And then just like magic, I’m walking.

I’m just walking.

And there is my breath again, coming in and out so gently.

And there is the empty mind (bless her heart, there’s nothing going on in that pretty little head).

And there is my gratitude: thank you legs.

Thank you feet.

Thank you lungs.

Thank you heart.

Thank you…

And there is the bird, ducking under a fallen tree.

And there is the wind, sharpening my nose and cheeks.

And there is the sound of children playing somewhere.

And finally, finally, I am here.

Just. Walking. Is one of the most precious gifts we can give to ourselves every day. The fact that you are walking is nothing short of a miracle, can we not just hold that truth for a moment and be present to witness it?

When you walk to the car, to the mailbox, to the bathroom, or across the parking lot.

When you walk your dog, or go up the stairs, or across the building, or into a room to check on a baby.

When you do all of this and more, you can just walk.