When I Walk
There’s a solitary joy to a day spent in “some city” somewhere. When the sidewalks or park trails or a path meanders to no drummers beat. Where small things are never remembered and big things equally forgotten. Today was one solitary step to another and soon the joy and feeling welled up and I knew I would just go. And go. I don’t race walk nor do I really count steps or miles or set goals. I’ve come to realize as an old retired guy that things like goals and milestones and tasks and responsibilities are counter productive. They don’t yield accomplishment or fulfillment as one footstep leads to the next. Instead it’s a solitary joy of the moments spent most times dwelling on no specific actionable works. There is some saying like this,
a man is known by his works
I have none. So no one truly knows that single solitary joy of hours spent. Like today in Austin walking after some days of not. It’s a light bulb, a light in the darkness or it is the darkness. It’s a thing and the opposite of things. It’s all. And it’s nothing and it’s all in between. It haunts and praises and welcomes and damns me. But the steps lead forever on and the moment intertwine with today and yesterday.
It’s my life spent with nothing but everything that matters. It’s walking and feeling each step and knowing I can’t stop. No goals or special challenges or trails. It’s just me and the moment.
When I walk.