This post was most recently updated on July 15th, 2022
What do I take from this place, this time?
A pebble, a snail shell, a flower, a fern.
A catharsis, an unravelling,
A peeling, an untying of knots.
I leave my mark: a footstep on the hill,
On the path to the lake,
All fear floating, trembling and tumbling
Over the watery rocks.
Each step requires precision.
I must watch my feet, shift my weight
From rock to slippery slate, to moss, grass, gravel,
Stepping over roots and ducking under branches.
Finding my balance – each step, a falling,
This place dictates a slow, considered pace
Or creates momentum; skipping
Goat-like from rock to rock.
Uphill – thighs screaming – I focus on this step,
The here, the now, only this foot forward,
Inexorably onward, breath and step in time.
Downhill, faith is needed, as I choose each landing place.
Sole meeting earth, satisfying connection.
Barefoot is best – heel, arch, ball, toes,
The whole foot, together. Calf, shin, thigh, buttocks,
The whole leg, together.
I bathe in the feel of the land on my skin,
Each step dewy-wet or cool, smooth-slate,
Moist moss, sharp stones, twisting tree roots,
Earth yielding, solid or wobbly stone on stone.
Monkey-toes spread, clinging to this spinning rock.
Feet in freezing stream, slipping into icy lake.
Bone, muscle, sinew, growing strong,
Holding me up, moving me forward.
Mindful walking, eyes on the earth,
Head clear, anxiety erased,
Calm and in the moment, past – gone – future, non-existent,
Merely this step, this moment.
No destination, just…M.i.n.d.f.u.l W.a.l.k.i.n.g