Walk

I had woken up early, more by coincidence than design. I also knew that I would descend into madness if I stayed at home for anything longer than half a day. So after pottering about with QM, I walked out into the winter sunlight for a (late) morning walk to a park nearby. I was lucky enough to have missed the herd of enthusiastic morning walkers and I pretty much had the park to myself. This particular park is a walker’s paradise, and the morning traffic on the main road outside seems to increase its charm. A mud path encircling an area full of large trees, patches of grass, crisscrossed by other walking paths. Although it’s not very large, it is a small, complete world into itself.

I started walking with my usual enthusiasm. Loud music and quick steps aimed at shaking off my morning lethargy. But there was something special about that morning. And that something made me take off my earphones and start listening. Listening to the fresh air, listening to the soft beat of my feet on the damp ground, listening to the wind whispering to the trees, listening to the bird conversations which I had so easily ignored earlier. And when you start listening so intently, you can hear someone else too. And that someone tells you to slow down and to really pay attention to what’s happening around you. And that someone points out how good it feels to be so completely alone, with an insulating layer of trees drowning out the sounds of the busy world outside. And that someone points out that tree which you didn’t notice till today. And the cat sitting on a horizontal branch, completely riveted by a flock of plucky sunbirds flitting about. The tail of the cat curling in anticipation, conveying its tremulous anticipation, its alertness as it prepares to pounce on that little fella just a foot away. And the object of so much attention, a little acrobat, sharp and bright, hanging upside down, flitting about confidently, so sure of his ability to escape danger that he can ignore it. And when that little scene was pointed out to me, I somehow felt myself completely absorbed by it. I could imagine myself in the mind of the cat, of the bird, and life just seemed so simple. Both of them knew what they wanted, and they knew how to get it, and then they went about getting it – no doubts, no scope for partial participation, they were so fully involved in their lives. The realization was amazing.

As I walked on, my feet moved more and more slowly. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t working towards the purpose that I’d gone there to achieve. Even the few other walkers, intent on their purpose, seemed be walking away from something then walking towards it. I wondered how I’d managed to avoid having noticed this feeling, been touched by it so far. We walk through life so fast, so intent on achieving whatever it is that we think we want, that we forget to notice so much. And although the things on the side aren’t that tangible, or useful, or dramatic, they sometimes reach out to you like few things can. As my feet finally neared the exit, I was overwhelmed by this wish to linger, to dissolve myself in this complete, little world, to let the sunshine warm me a bit more, pick me up, carry me over to the bright, shining leaves of the tallest tree, to let the wind blow through me, to be a sunbird dancing about the cat. But I get over the temporary insanity, help my feet find a destination again, plug the earphones back in to drown out the sounds of the real world waiting outside.

Jeez, I need to see a psychiatrist. :)