Walking May Have Saved My Soul

Dear Universe,

Something compelled me to get my lazy ass out of bed this morning, throw on my rain coat, and venture out into the gloom. Maybe I was feeling restless or lonely or in need of a change of scenery – I don’t know – but there was a pull I couldn’t resist. I needed to walk it out.

I started my trek with my headphones on as usual, listening to a very Bailee-esqe audiobook about the nature of being human and our connectedness (or lack thereof) to the world, yada yada. I passed some pretty patches of newly-popped-open poppies and stopped to say good morning to some horses (who were not amused by my interruption of their breakfast) as a light rain fell overhead. It was nice.

But then I walked a little further and eventually ended up in the forest, treading carefully along the wet path that was dotted with slimy slugs and slowly passing snails.

The deeper I came into the woods, the more the sounds of croaking frogs and the crunch of the gravel under my feet and snapping of sticks permeated through my headphones, and I couldn’t in good conscience continue listening to a book (even one narrated by Morgan Freeman…) about experiencing human life and nature without actually immersing myself in it when I had the opportunity.

So the headphones came off and I found myself in the most serene and comforting symphony of sensory experience.

The percussion of rain falling on the tree canopies overhead made a song that echoed through the wood, and the plants on the ground around me seemed to dance as the stray drops plopped through onto their leaves, one here, one there.

I heard birds singing from every direction with different tones and textures and cadences to their songs. Frogs with deep croaks and higher hums. The rustle of tall grass as a deer bounded away after I startled it with the sound of my own body moving through the foliage.

The smell of falling rain and wet earth. The feel of slick dirt under my feet and the wet air on my cheeks. The brilliant shades of green against a gray sky.

Fuck, Universe. It was beautiful.

Standing there in solitude – away from everyone and everything in complete isolation with nothing but the flora and fauna of the forest – that is the least alone I’ve felt in a long time. That’s the most held I’ve felt in a long time.

I stood there for quite a while. Soaking it all in. Meandering slowly, lightly, hoping I might see another deer along the trail. Absorbing all of the sights, the sounds, the smells. Feeling a kinship with the snails as they meandered on, too.

Then I continued on my journey, Universe. I made my feet pick up the pace and walked again back toward home. With my newly heightened senses, I noticed, acutely, the juxtaposition of the roar of cars on the highway beyond the shallow grove of trees to my left – the world spinning madly on – and the sweet songs of the birds and whizzing by of bugs near my ear to the right – my salvation.

Alas I am back home now. Sitting in my bed. On my computer. Nothing but the call of seagulls out the window and my little balcony plants to fill the void I’ve just discovered.

But, Universe, I feel completely nourished. Revitalized. Alive.

Everything about that walk just felt right and easy and real. I’ve needed that.

All of this to say: thank you. Thank you for muddy shoes and rainy days and unexpected adventures. Thank you for the birds and the trees and the bugs, the ponds and the deer and the dirt.

I know I bitch a lot about a lot of stuff, Universe, but please know that I see your gifts and I appreciate them. Life is good.

XO – Bailee