Life by Design: The Walk

At 43 and feeling stressed, I decided to walk. Why? It was time, the tertiary desk job had me eating like a pig and by corollary, looking like one. It was time to at least temporarily stop being an automaton, coming home with barely enough energy to eat, watch Family Guy and plop into bed only to arise the next day and hit the clock like the eyeless sheepdog from the Bugs Bunny cartoon. The Graywalker (my alter ego) was born from desiring time to think as well as to contemplate… a life by design.

Walking is my meditation: It takes about 2-3 miles for the Relaxation Response to kick in for me. I allow the ceaseless thoughts running through my head to just be and guess what?  They subside, washed away by the sound of my breath, of Ike and Mike (my feet) tapping the pavement and by the song of the birds serenading from the canopy framing the trail.  This form of meditation calms my ADD and I’m often done before I’m ready and decide to continue one more time!

Walking has restorative effects: It stimulates blood flow.  It burns calories. It is a low impact exercise (like an elliptical machine, another favorite).  It can lower blood pressure. Argument at home? Take a stroll, buddy.  Better than saying or doing something you regret in hindsight.

Walking doesn’t cost much, all things considered: tennis shoes, socks, shorts/sweatpants, shirt. Layer accordingly and just add water. Who’s for free exercise versus gym fees during this recession?

Walking is what you make it: It can be a solo or group activity. It can be done on city streets or at city, state or national parks. It can be done with a water pack on your back. It can be done before breakfast, it can be done after dinner. It can be done wearing tacky clothes straight from your local consignment shop. Don’t hate, variate!

Like all things, walking requires common sense: Walk in a good location and at a good time of day. See ambulances available? Park police swinging through to observe? Other people jogging or walking? In Yoda-speak, “Good signs these are!”  Being on the evening news just isn’t what it used to be!

Walking is a gateway to other activities like hiking or running so be sure your physician approves. Walking can also be addictive (see Relaxation Response above) and in fact, I see homeless men “keeping it moving” all day in every city! Bottom line, balance it out with your other life activities.

Finally, I’m not Ponce de Leon seeking the fountain of youth nor am I being competitive by sharing milestones, just hoping to reduce my blood pressure medication and regain some vitality. However, making a-walk-a-day an essential part of my regimen has helped me to cope with and better manage the ups and downs of this thing called life. Why not walk it out and have a little fun? Morris, take it away!

A Sunflower Native Reflects at Age 43…

I’m 6 years into a return to the deep south, rough-riding a tangential path that began with a phone call while at my job, “Roseal, your mother’s had a stroke, you need to come home if you can!” Powerful words, words that changed my life and words that change almost everyone’s. Words that make you disconnect the energy-vampires from your life, regardless of affiliation, words that make you realize what’s really important. What’s important to me at 43 is to live my life by design and not as an ongoing reactionary actor to events beyond my control from the cradle to the grave. So, although I begin this exercise as a disconnected catharsis of cave scribblings I wholeheartedly assure that the linkage of each one will provide me a little more peace. Hell, ain’t that what life’s about? Sho ’nuff!

EARLY LIFE – SUNFLOWER
I was born in LA (Lower Alabama) and lived in a tiny community on a dirt road (it just seemed like most of my folks lived on dirt roads and I accepted it as the norm without realizing the sublime societal construct undergirding this reality). Since my parents divorced when I was a toddler, my mother, sister and I lived in the home of my grandparents (to me, this was the biggest house in the world and the large fields outside provided plenty of space). Next door was my aunt and her son and daughter. Yes, these folks were the stars in my galaxy, I felt very safe amongst my family.

My mom and aunt taught school during the week and my babysitters (Cousins Ed and Lucille Steeley) whom I loved dearly since they were also cousins, lived next door, about 1/4 mile away. Aside from the regular sadness of longing for my dad (a scientist and college professor 3 hours away in Tuskegee), my early life was pastoral and full of innocent adventure. To his credit, he’d visit sometimes and I’d be caught in the rapture of the daytrip and whatever that might be: fishing, hunting, even the Battleship (seeing the USS Alabama on TV anchored a lifelong fascination with the sea).

After Linda (my first cousin) and I were dropped off at the Steeleys, she’d help Cousin Lucille all day and I couldn’t wait because I knew that we’d be on the move to the Post Office, Leroy, Chatom, Jackson, even! And if it was for a medical appointment or business, we might even go to Grove Hill (31 miles north) or… Mobile, the BIG city to the south (45 miles south down Highway 43).

During farming season, Cousin Ed and I would often go deep into The Hammock (don’t know why this part deep in Sunflower was called that), where we’d plow fields (actually, he’d drive the tractor and let me believe I was driving it) and take lunch and/or water breaks, pumping the purest water by hand from an old well like the people of old did: we’d prime the pump with water from a jug and then, commence to pumping the rickety iron handle. It’s amazing how pure and clear this underground reservoir was since I have to pay money today to get what I already freely possessed in the beginning. Damn, what’s wrong with this picture?

After a rain, I’d look forward to going back outside afterwards and using the overflowing drainage ditches to sail my homemade boats, which would consist of a leaf, pine needle, fudge-sicle stick or anything that would float downstream. I’d race along aside my creation, seeing where it would go, adapting to obstacles in flight. Sometimes, my vessel would be trapped in a cove on the edge of the road and I’d have to free it with my finger or a stick. Satisfaction was achieved if my boat would float all the way into the woods where I was forbidden to go. And then… on to the next boat!

Looking back now in a surreal sense, I realize this quaint activity was a time of first meditation, calling out to me to be like the water… flow…. cleanse… adapt… and reflect upon my dreams.

EXERCISES
1. Question to self – Why was I so happy then?
YOU WERE LIVING IN THE MOMENT AND UNDISTRACTED.

2. Next – Can that quiescent state be recaptured after concentrically layering on years like the mighty oak tree in the front yard of my childhood?
YES, WITH A LITTLE FOCUS.

3. If yes, what am I willing to do to reclaim that state of mind?
YOU’RE DOING IT NOW, YOUR CURRENT STATUS IS A NATURAL REGURGITATION OF SOCIETY’S EXTERNAL LOCUS OF CONTROL. KEEP FOLLOWING YOUR HEART.