Walking solves things, walking can be radical
For me, it is the ultimate balm
It started in October. Friends started talking about exhaustion, that they thought the Christmas anxiety / tiredness / overwhelm had started so much earlier this year. I agreed, but wondered also if it wasn’t like this every year: that creeping feeling of all ‘the things’ that need to be done starting to play on the mind as the last quarter of another year advances. My answer to this and many other situations like it is the same, though it’s not always the easiest to find time for: go for a walk1.
I walk to allow the tangles of my mind to elongate; by the time I return, their tightly coiled springs are spread long and calm in my wake. I walk to feel the energy in my legs, to allow the day to settle (or begin). I walk to feel cushioned by the natural world, to step - physically, literally - away from the confines of our culture and society. I walk to feel thankful for this body I inhabit, to know how good it feels to move, to be in this body instead of floating above it (metaphorically speaking). I walk to connect purposefully with the outside world in a culture that actively demands you ignore it.
Turning away from the screens and the news and the relentless tasks to lace up your walking shoes can be a radical act.
It takes courage and will power to make the decision to walk, to make the time to walk, even if it is just around your neighbourhood.
While you’re walking, and if you allow it, you might find your thoughts start to take on a different frequency, that they start to find shape in obscure connections. I find that when I walk I’m able to think more clearly, I’m able to see what is really important, and what is not. These are all things I’ve said before, argh, there’s a decent risk I’m repeating myself, but I feel these things need to be said and said again.
Our culture doesn’t value slow, doesn’t value ‘doing’ without a goal, doesn’t value action without a designated purpose or result or outcome. Walking is a radical act in this face of this; walking - in our modern world - is closely akin to doing nothing, which is perhaps why it can be challenging to make the time for it in our over-scheduled lives. It has to be said that to have the time and the safety and the health to be able to choose to go for a walk for leisure means a certain level of privilege which cannot be dismissed or forgotten. I’m incredibly grateful to have the means to be able to walk and hike.
I’ve had a rotation of unwell children at home, but this past fortnight I’ve managed to snatch the time for two longer walks: 12km through a slice of remnant bushland on the Mornington Peninsula and today, 16km around Sugarloaf Reservoir. I see things differently after I’ve been for a walk. The world takes on a softer filter, things that once puzzled me seem more obvious, my thoughts slow to the pace of my footsteps. While walking the ‘content’ I am processing is simply the green, the green, the green and it filters through my eyes step by micro step: first, light hits the corneas and is bent before it reaches the pupils. The pupils expand and retract to decide how much light to filter through the lens. The light is received by the retina, and impulses are sent to the optic nerve at the back of the eyes after which, finally, the brain receives and translates. An image. Green. Leaf. Soft. Dirt. Bird. Water. Sky. Cloud. Rain. Here. Now.
Have you been for a walk lately? Tell me about it.
Some other, end of year-ish things…
My summer librarianship subject has started and it’s all about collections - including the ethics and sometimes fraught nature surrounding what has been collected, by whom, and the means by which it was collected. Do you collect anything? For me: books, pottery, postcards.
I’m starting to think about reading over the Christmas break, despite the aforementioned summer university subject that will no doubt take up much of my holiday time. What will you be reading this summer? I love the Read This podcast and also Jaclyn’s Monday books roundup from Hill of Content Bookshop for recommendations.
I’ve been reading Dispersals: On Plants, Borders and Belonging by Jessica J. Lee, which was highly commended in the Wainwright Prize for Nature Writing 2024.
It’s that time of year: right now, endangered Bogong Moths are travelling huge distances of up to 1000km to reach the high country of Australia, where they aestivate (basically hibernation, but over summer, not winter) for a few months over summer. Only, Bogong numbers have dropped from 4 billion, to sometimes barely detectable numbers. Numbers have been in steady decline over the last fifty-odd years, with a huge drop off since 2017. You can help by tracking your sightings of the Bogong Moth using Moth Tracker, which I mentioned last December when I used the app for my own sighting, while hiking at Mount Buller (watch this cute little explainer clip here with your kids and get them interested too).
If your interest is piqued, read Noiseless Messengers by Rebecca Giggs.
I have really enjoyed seeing other Substack writers share pieces they have enjoyed here, and thought I’d share a couple of things I’ve loved reading this fortnight, right here on Substack. Alia Parker’s The dingo has come, finally. I loved the storytelling here, but also the information - I recommend you follow the links through to the previous pieces Alia has written on this topic, too. This piece on love by Chelsea Steinauer-Scudder. I was lucky enough to attend some of Chelsea’s workshops during lockdowns and find her to be such a contemplative and thoughtful writer, highly recommend.
This coming fortnight I’m heading far out of town for some hiking in the mountains - I’ll be sure to update you next time.
And that’s quite enough for now.
Until next time, travel light.
Lucinda x
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Watch this short reel, and you will likely go outside for a walk too.
that moment when you realise your chatter and rumination has quietened and your senses are alive with all that is right there with you
You've beautifully put into words how I feel about walking Lucinda. Moving through wild spaces, mindfully observing the plants and animals I encounter, feeling connected to and a part of the landscape - it's all magic. And that sense of lightness, peace and clarity post walk is everything.