“Now shall I walk or shall I ride?

‘Ride,’ Pleasure said;

‘Walk,’ Joy replied.”

― W.H. Davies

I’ve been doing a lot of walking lately. Long walks, alone.

Instead of trails across lakes and mountains, I settle for pavements.

One foot in front of another, along park connectors and water collectors, because that is all I have for now.


I see couples & families strolling & cycling;

men & women checking their Apple Watches while jogging past me who is just glad to be walking.

It’s not the kilometers that I am clocking but I’m just walking so that I am moving

and right now I’m thinking that there is a metaphor in here, waiting.


This walking is my way of figuring out things.

A conversation with myself on being. In some ways, an act of becoming.

It is me, committing to asking myself answer-less questions of person, profession, and passion,

and lately, of legacy and me.


And so I walk without destination to channel the laws of Newton and put some momentum in a certain direction.

I take these repetitive meditative steps to settle the mind and remind myself that life has a way of working out fine.


In a way, with each step I complete I plant a seed for a tomorrow where perhaps this sorrow can grow to something else.

Maybe a kind of morning where there is less mourning.

Maybe a kind of loving of this life that we’re living.

Maybe if I keep walking, keep moving,

and maybe if I do it enough,

I will see a clearing with a path.

“There was nowhere to go but everywhere.”

– Jack Kerouac