A walk on November 8
I read a post yesterday where a woman said her dream job was to take a 3 - 4 hour walk every day, come home and write a 3000 word essay about it, and send it to an email address that never wrote back. Something about that made me feel very seen.
My walk wasn't 3 or 4 hours. It was maybe an hour. But there was sunshine the whole time and it was an absolutely perfect fall day and the leaves were bright, bright colors. Truly perfect.
I almost always walk through Mt. Tabor. I know it's not possible that it's the most beautiful place in the world, but sometimes, on days like this, it feels like it is to me.
I'm intentionally trying to be alone the next couple of days. I hate it. My mind hates it. My emotions hate it. My body hates it. I want to call someone or go get coffee or do anything for entertainment and distraction. But I'm not. Instead I went for a walk.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm afraid of success. I have a book I desperately want to write, that I don't even want to write for anyone, just for me. But to clear my head I go on a walk. Writing about wanting to write the book is the closest I've gotten to progress on it in the last month.
I have an idea for a ceramics installation that I've drawn up. But I need inspiration so I go for a walk. I've at least drawn out my ideas but I just stare at my studio thinking maybe if I think about it long enough I will have made the things I'm thinking about.
I wallow (just a bit maybe) in self pity about my inability to accomplish anything. But I don't like wallowing so I go for a walk. I see the brightest colors that maybe I've seen in my life. I don't know if that's possible but it feels like that's what's happening. The same route I usually take has been transformed into layers of amber, yellow, and red against a green so deep it's almost black. Sunlight glows through the leaves and I see where the inspiration for fairy and elf glens come from. It feels like there's something magical in here. Or just it being this striking is magical in itself.
Squirrels dig frantically for the seeds and nuts they've already stored. The days are getting alarmingly short and the sun feels like it's going down just as soon as it's come up. Sparrows run along the ground chirping what I assume is a warning to... someone about this being their territory. I can never tell with sparrows. They're so plump and resourceful and industrious and also seem like tiny little bullies as they chase away chickadees and bushtits. Cute little tyrants though.
I go a different way today than my normal route. I'm in this park probably 4 days a week minimum and yet I never seem to run out of new paths. Maybe the park is magic after all. It's so clear and so sunny today that I can see all the way to downtown. I see the bridges arching over the river. The huge oaks and maples and willows and who knows what else changing color amidst the evergreens. Not the most beautiful view in the world. But maybe it is today.
Everyone in the park drifts toward the sun like flowers. Some give up and sit on the ground or on benches, eyes closed, basking in the sun. Human solar panels now. But this may be the last we see of real sun until January. My walks are about to take a nasty turn. But maybe this is the forced discipline I need.
I've been listening more to Laufey in the past couple days and I love it. But the minor keys (or maybe it's major, I don't know) puts me in a mood. It's a mood I like, but a "mood" nonetheless. The kind with quotes around it where someone gets hyperbolic and a little too much. But the songs are easy and pretty and fun to sing.
I'm prolific in my procrastination today. The sun was a good excuse. The walk an even better, and thoroughly enjoyable, one. I keep thinking I'll figure it out. If I think long enough or plan well enough or push hard enough. I don't think I'm going to figure it out. I think it's going to be just one step in front of the other. And only 772 words. Not 3000. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow.