Talk about Walking
by Philip Booth

Where am I going? I’m going
out, out for a walk. I don’t
know where except outside.
Outside argument, out beyond
wallpapered walls, outside
wherever it is where nobody
ever imagines. Beyond where
computers circumvent emotion,
where somebody shorted specs
for rivets for airframes on
today’s flights. I’m taking off
on my own two feet. I’m going
to clear my head, to watch
mares’-tails instead of TV,
to listen to trees and silence,
to see if I can still breathe.
I’m going to be alone with
myself, to feel how it feels
to embrace what my feet
tell my head, what wind says
in my good ear. I mean to let
myself be embraced, to let go
feeling so centripetally old.
Do I know where I’m going?
I don’t. How long or far
I have no idea. No map. I
said I was going to take
a walk. When I’ll be back
I’m not going to say.

“Talk about Walking” by Philip Booth from Lifelines: Selected Poems 1950-1999 (Viking Press). From The Writer’s Almanac — Sept. 30, 2015

Chosen and read by Amy W.

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This morning I walked with the intention to learn more about the dynamic of push and allow. Knowing when to push to make things happen where we can/might, and when to accept and allow things to happen as they will. As I walked, navigating around the plains of standing water, the deceptive layers of mud waiting to lap my shoes, I noticed the effect of the push of water. Like my thoughts, the flow of water disturbs and creates, forms and deforms. Can it help but force its way through? Driven by gravity, it can reach a velocity strong enough to create canyons and gouge gullies. And erode my fragile peace.

I notice a strand of honeysuckle realizing one last bloom. Does it name its action as pushing, or just reaching for room to do what’s possible?

I notice the dunes, appreciating the push that made them, and the powerful sweep that in two days changed their gentle slope to a precarious drop onto the beach.

I am given to notice the change in the changing.

As I walked the sandy path from the beach, a green darner landed several feet in front of me. I wanted a closer look, a photo even. Not to be. It flew off as I pushed ever so gently toward it. A few steps later, I turned and saw it circling behind me, following me. I watched it land at my feet, and stay, receptive.

Today invited me to look at how I approach what I want to get close to—whether a goal, a deadline, a hope, a point of view. And how I surrender to a larger life that arrives on its own terms. — Photo and reflection by Amy W.

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Photo by Mary W.

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Today I walked with the intention of “acceptance” — accepting what is and being more “in the moment” on a day to day basis. As I began my walk numerous paths were blocked by water from the recent flooding. I quickly realized that new vistas and experiences were open to me because I had to walk on a pathway that was unfamiliar. I would likely never have experienced this new pathway without the flooded walkways. 

At some point early in my walk– I am not exactly sure where or why– I felt that I really needed to get beyond acceptance to surrender — surrender at a spiritual and emotional level — being fully in the moment — surrendering to both beauty and pain. As I was reminded by several fellow walkers during our reflection period, there are times for surrender and times for action and pushing against struggles. But, oh, how to discern the difference?

The changing and falling autumn leaves spoke to me of acceptance and surrender in the knowledge that everything “fits and belongs” and that new life will come in the spring. And even when the future is not predictable like the seasons and cycles of nature, I must still surrender to both what is in this moment and the unknown future. —

Photos and reflection by Nancy L.