The weather has delivered a few perfectly beautiful fall days here in Charleston, so over the past few weeks, I’ve swapped my usual climate-controlled indoor exercise routine for a mid-morning walk.
A bike path runs along the two-lane highway in front of my neighborhood, and plenty of tree cover provides just the right amount of shade. It takes about an hour to walk to the end of the path and back, and the walks are quite energizing and therapeutic.
I’m trying not to get too attached to this new routine, because at the first hint of a strong chill or rain, it’s back inside I go. But for now, while conditions are favorable and the skies are blue, I’m embracing this season to get some air, some exercise, and clear my head.
Sometimes, on these walks, my creativity opens up; I don’t listen to music, but I carry my phone and dictate thoughts into my notes app. Other times, all the chatter in my head rises to the surface, and it all sounds like noise. I can’t tap into a shred of clarity.
And movement is my trick! Movement is my go-to! But sometimes, when I try to create inner space and quiet, I only hear noise.
When this happens, I deliberately shift my focus. I look around. Look up at the trees, the sun breaking through. The squirrel dashing across the pavement. I listen to cars whizzing down the two-lane highway.
On my most recent walk, a patch of cattails caught my eye. I don’t see cattails very often anymore, and they instantly brought me back to childhood, when I remember seeing a lot of them. And dandelions.
That’s when I got the message. There’s nothing to solve right now. Turning my attention to what’s right in front of me lowers the volume on my overthinking and overfunctioning.
Sometimes the answer isn’t an answer at all. Instead, it’s a simple reminder to take a look around.
