I’ve been walking more over the past six weeks or so. More than the usual two miles a day that is our (Karl’s and my) habit. Significantly more.
I’ve almost felt pushed out the door and urged to just get out and keep walking, walking, walking. I feel like it’s an attempt to clear my head and heart and body. But I can’t even say it’s been to hear more clearly or listen more deeply.
It’s simply felt like a process I was being compelled to undertake.
I can say that more miles of local roadways are now devoid of cigarette butts and random beer bottles or fast food detritus, which is a plus. And I’ve certainly been rewarded with some astonishing photo opportunities. (Where would I be without my clouds?)
But I can’t say I’ve had any revelations while I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other. In fact, it’s felt a bit odd and a little bit frustrating, as my favorite means of self-reflection and gaining deeper insight into myself is writing in my journal. So there’s this part of me that wrestles every time I slip Spartacus’s harness on and clip his leash to the D ring. (He’s the one who’s logged the most added mileage on his paws, gamely keeping me company almost every step of the way, while Sheila – being four years older – has increased her mileage but not to the extent of her ever-eager son.)
“I should be writing. I should be editing. I should be answering emails. I should be… (blah blah blah).”
And yet, in spite of these ‘shoulds,’ I’ve set out and just walked and walked and walked. I don’t listen to music. I don’t try to read. I just walk.
I’ve been meaning to go back and take a look at how many miles I’ve walked since my birthday. I have a feeling I’ve logged some significant mileage.
But to what end?
I can’t say. I trust, though, that it is serving a purpose. I trust that I’m being encouraged to engage in this activity for a reason, even if it’s not obvious to me at the moment.
In my recent quests to go a bit off the beaten path lately, I’ve been walking on roads that I mostly only ever drive upon. Some roads surrounding my home are only in my awareness as intersections, since they are veritable ‘dead ends,’ therefore giving me no good reason to drive down them.
Today, though, I walked down one of these dead end roads and fell in love with the scenery. I know I’m going to be including this offshoot and walking it much more frequently, mostly because it is blissfully without traffic but also because it traces the route of a tributary to my beloved Tohickon.
The tributary, replete with massive stones piled on each other in such a way as to create terraced waterfalls, flows peacefully right into the Tohickon. But before it does, it burbles and trickles its way alongside the road, dodging massive trees and monkey vines, basking in small pools hosting hoards of peepers, and feeding life all along the way.
Mirror? Or Shelter?
The photo I’ve included tonight is one I took early this evening. The subject caught my eye and in some sense feels like it’s mirroring me. I was going to say ‘rootless,’ but that’s not quite accurate. I have roots, as does this tree. But somehow, in some way, the soil I’ve relied on to keep me grounded is nowhere to be found.
Will new soil arrive, carried downstream from fields further up? Or will I somehow need to find a way in which to seek new soil out?
Or the third option, I suppose, is to remain as is: roots hovering over the surface of the stream, nourished when the rains come, then holding space in the drier times, faithfully creating space for other lives to take refuge in when there’s nowhere else to hide.
Karl left for appointments at the crack of dawn this morning, so we didn’t get a chance to have our coffee together and pick cards the way we usually do. Nevertheless, he did text me later in the morning to let me know what he’d chosen on his day.
Meanwhile, I knew it was supposed to rain later in the day, so I made a point of getting out earlier than I usually do to take a walk. Before I left, I chose a Medicine Card® for my day: I chose Raven with Mouse underneath.
Raven/Mouse
As I’ve had occasion to discuss a few times already, (here, here, and here) Raven is associated with the concept of Magic. I capitalize the ‘M’ in Magic in this context because it is different than your normal, hokus pokus, pull a rabbit out of a hat type of magic. It’s way bigger than that. Or sometimes much smaller.
I’ve had some pretty cool experiences this week, which, again, I’m digesting and contemplating how and when to share with all of you. It’s not that I’m hoarding my experiences. At least that’s not my intention. Rather, I’m holding them close to the vest, so to speak, until I’ve integrated them, making an effort not to dilute them by sharing them too quickly and thus not appreciating their ‘Magic.’
So when I got this combo of Raven/Mouse today, I thought it might be an indication that it’s time for me to start sharing some of the experiences I’ve had over the past several weeks.
Alas, that’s not how it’s playing out.
Not What I Expected
For when I was walking today, I came upon a setting that screamed, “MAGIC!” to me. So much so, in fact, that I had to stop and take a photo with my iPhone to share with you.
Take a look at the photo that’s accompanying this post and tell me I did not stumble upon some Magic right in the middle of regular life. This faerie house is completely and totally natural. It’s growing out of the bark on a tree that’s just growing tall beside the road.
And part of the Magic, in my mind at least, is that I actually saw it. Out of all the myriad sights and sounds and odors, from screeching hawks to trucks with confederate flags in their back window to cigarette butts, the occasional fast food container and a beer bottle or two, and a Boston Terrier named Spartacus excitedly marking his territory on all sorts of new logs and piles of leaves – I noticed this exquisite piece of faerie real estate.
It felt like a gift. Just look at the detail, the colors, the exquisite natural beauty.
Stuff I Didn’t Get Done vs. Magic
There were tasks I had set for myself to accomplish today that I did not manage to complete. And a couple of times, I started in on lamenting that I’d walked instead of doing those things first. But then I was reminded of two other amazing discoveries I’d made this week – both on Wednesday – and both of which I would have completely missed had I not walked precisely when I did that day. Not only were they amazing discoveries in and of themselves, but the township literally scraped the dirt road upon which I’d found both of them the very next day. So my timing had been perfect.
And that’s how I felt about my discovery of the faerie house earlier today. It was all about timing and paying attention (Mouse) and being open to the myriad little things in life that bring us joy and arouse our awareness of the Magic that surrounds all of us if we open our hearts and eyes and ears.
And if we simply give ourselves the chance to just be.
Wild Sky – Walking Home Last Night; Photo: L. Weikel
I Walk
See, it’s the little things that make me realize my mortality. Or at least realize I’m no longer 42.
I walk. That’s my primary means of getting exercise, with a random yoga class thrown in sporadically just to remind me of what flexibility might feel like.
Karl and I almost always walk together. And we try to walk every day. Walking together has been the backbone of our marriage.
We have our ‘usual route’ – the one we’ve walked consistently for the past 34 years. Although truth be told, in the very earliest years that we lived here, we probably were largely inconsistent.
And we take a plastic grocery store bag with us every single time we take a walk.
Never Walk Without a Bag Stuffed In My Pocket
I have to admit, picking up trash while we walk is the most natural thing in the world to me. It’s such an integral part of my psyche that I try to always have an extra bag in my pocket just in case I’m walking somewhere and I see stuff that needs to be picked up. (And as we all know, it is rare to go anywhere and not see – at the very least – cigarette butts on the ground.)
But this is not a post about trash. It’s a post about walking; or at least that’s what I intended when I started this evening.
The route Karl and I almost always take measures 2.2 miles from doorway to doorway. Occasionally we’ll have enough time and flexibility to make it ‘around’ twice, but lately, at least, that’s been a bit challenging.
Piling On the Mileage
So it took its toll yesterday when, in a fit of pique I set off to one of our County Parks. (‘High Rocks,’ which we pass every day, is a State Park.) Karl and I had already walked around once (during which a disagreement between us took shape), but then I strode to Tohickon Valley Park after our failure to resolve our mutual irritations reached an extra special level of misunderstanding. Once at the park, I used one of the spanking new wooden picnic tables to write in my journal, an exercise that actually yielded a lot more clarity and compassion than I was expecting. The sun set shortly thereafter, thus closing the park, so I packed up and made the return trek home.
All told, including my initial 2.2 miles with Karl, I walked 7.6 miles yesterday.
Then today I walked a total of 8 miles even.
Yep. And I can attest: I can barely keep my eyes open. But the most interesting aspect of this is how much my feet ache. I never would’ve guessed that aching feet would be the predominant sequelae to my walking barely 8 miles a day. That just sounds so – mundane, I guess. But here I am.
Aching Feet – But Some Great Benefits, Too
But aside from the aching feet (and looking like I’m about 100 years old when I first get up from the couch to retrieve something from another room), I feel great on many levels.
I love logging some significant miles under my belt – if nothing else, it gives me an area of life that I can playfully compete with my son. (AS IF.) (He’s a runner and is starting to train for bigger and better competitions, so…the tracking of my mileage is just a fun distraction ‘thing’ we do for laughs.)
I also love/hate pushing myself a bit more. Our baseline 2.2 miles is a wonderful daily practice (and is essential to our pups’ health and happiness as well), but I can feel a difference when I walk for more miles.
I’ve slept like a rock. And I’m hoping the extra miles will burn off the after-effects of the recent spate of birthday cakes a bit more quickly.
Inspiration and Change
But my greatest wish/desire/goal? I’m hoping this increased time spent directly one-on-one with Mother Earth will inspire me to whip open my laptop upon my return each day and work enthusiastically on my next project. While I’ve had the rough material ready to write for decades, I know my perspective shifts with each extra day I live, and I am eager to see the direction my tale ultimately takes. (That’s where some trust comes in.)
There is change in the air. My goal is to harness that change and apply it to my body, my attitude, my service, and my life in general. One step at a time. One picked-up cigarette butt at a time. One typed word at a time.
