The sun warms my face, and I feel an electric rush throughout my body. I hear crows cawing and children laughing. Neighbors walk their dogs. We say “hello” and give each other a quick smile. I notice the leaves on the trees rustling softly in the morning breeze. I consider the vultures perched high among the naked treetops. The croaking of the frogs, hidden in the tall grass, sing their songs—providing a soundtrack as I walk, one foot in front of the other.
Each day I go for a walk, in the morning on warmer days and in the afternoons in winter. I get out of the house and breathe fresh air, give my mind a break, and stretch my limbs, the waters of my body flowing from head to toe and back again. I’m a moving sea. Some days my mind quiets more quickly than others. Many days I must repeatedly come back to stillness, reminding myself to stay present. To “be like a dog”—be present and notice what’s in front of me. And delight in that. Breathe in, breathe out. Appreciate every branch on the trees, the withered leaves nurturing the soil, the rain clouds gathering in front of the sun. Love every single minute of it because it means you are alive and this world is beautiful. This is what I tell myself.
My soul glories in these walks—so happy to see the world outside, away from the computer and the noise. My daily walk brings calm. I’m reminded of life cycles. Of what’s important. Of breathing deep, feeling the rush of fresh air throughout every cell in my body. Knowing that I am a being of light, that this flesh isn’t permanent, but I thank Spirit, God, for the opportunity to be embodied, to experience this world, to feel that sunlight on my cheeks, that raindrop ping my nose, to see that neighbor smile, that child toddle past—to know that I am alive. That we are all here together. That this moment, as every moment, is magical.
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