Some Day Walking
It could be thoughts springing, hiding, dipping that restrict me. It could be the fear, the worry, the trepidation of stepping in shit or hurt. It could be the memory of hurting, someone or my own.
And then it could be spring that brings me to my senses.
It could be the knowing that someday walking will not be possible.
It is this knowing that puts me on the path, one foot in front of the other, for however long till I find a bench, a stump, a log, a rock to rest on. It’s the smallest step that carries me the farthest, like stepping one foot on the path that actually goes for miles. It is the smallest step, the first step, the most important step.
Walking could be a healing gesture, activity, that carries thoughts, provides space for creation and conjuring. Conjuring life, words, images, hopes, stories.
Walking could be the best medicine. Done with intelligence, openness, goals, no goals.
Walking could be the gift that follows us, ambulates us, motivates us through the best and the worst life has to offer.
It could be the best open-hearted truth serum, allowing forgiveness of self, other… healing.
It could be walking that opens doors to meeting freshness—people, places, smells, memories—to meeting our own heart’s secret cave.
Walking could be the antidote to sadness. It changes, mixes, stirs the blood, the heart, and frees the mind and brings us close.
Walking could be the path, the road to finally discovering the way, a way, to say what has needed to be said.
It could be the mechanical method of strengthening the body, and the heart method to strengthening the soul.
To amble, to wander, to directly drive the body forward in circles or meandering paths. It could be done head down, driven, closed in anger or thought, but done long enough the head begins to emerge and elevate. The senses invade and the mind, heart, and soul follow.
It could be only for today, and then only for tomorrow, because someday, we will not be able to.