Have you ever had a day when everything you touch ends up broken, materially or metaphorically? Your favorite mug slips from your grasp and shatters on the floor. You open the dishwasher at the end of its cycle and find a moving piece detached. Someone misunderstands a word you say and a pleasant conversation turns tense. At some point, you feel surrounded by rubble and want to break the negative spell. When that happens to me, I go for a walk.
Walking by itself does not repair a broken mug, nor does it solve any of the problems I may be facing. However, as I walk, usually briskly, my heart rate increases, my breathing deepens, my blood flow improves and my senses focus on something different: the smell of wet forest soil, the breeze on my face, the splashing of waves washing ashore. The change of sensory scenery helps me release tension and clear my mind, prelude to getting a perspective on what happened.
Always grateful for having several destination options at my disposal in moments of need, the last time I found myself in an “I want to scream” situation, I chose a walk on the beach; the cocoon of a forest wouldn’t do. I needed an open space, a wide expanse around me into which I could empty the cacophony of thoughts crowding out any sense of balance and serenity. I put on my hiking boots and drove to Clam Beach. The tide was ebbing, and the low tide would be negative. (Safety first: I check the tide charts before walking on a beach.)
My usual walk (approx. 6.2 miles long) goes from the North Lot parking northward to Little River, which runs as a boundary between Little River Beach and Moonstone Beach, then southward to Strawberry Creek and back to the starting point. If I don’t have enough time, I turn around earlier. The important thing is to leave all burdensome thoughts behind and dive into the walk.
I like to lose myself in the vast expanse of sand modeled by ocean and wind. In that vastness, under the infinite dome of the sky, broken things shrink to a size smaller than that of a sand dollar held in the palm of my hand.
When walking, I make every effort to avoid rumination. Having thoughts (usually negative) on repeat makes it difficult to stay in the present moment and, simply put, is not helpful. My preferred way to sidetrack rumination is walking with a friend. I may spend some time venting about the latest water leak or a piece of writing resisting completion, but then I switch to listening to their news and finally we move on to relaxing and engaging topics, like what’s in season at the farmers market, or on the menu for dinner, or what fun events are upcoming on the calendar.
When I am by myself, I listen to the ocean playing the daily version of its song and try to steer my thoughts in a constructive direction. I look around me with intention and use my smartphone camera to capture the views that move me: a special play of the light on water and sand, the sky marbled with puffy clouds, or its reflection on the shallow pools left behind by retreating waves.
Sometimes those negative inner voices just don’t keep quiet. When that happens, I drown them into the soothing narration of an audiobook. Libby, the mobile app that allows you to listen to (or read) books from your local library on your smartphone, is a precious ally.
As I leave footprints on the sand, the inner load gets lighter — even just a little is a good outcome. Of course, the things that need fixing at the beginning of the walk still need attention at the end, but from a place of inner balance, I will be better equipped to handle them. I walk past the rubble into the rest of my day.
Simona Carini (she/her) shares photographs of her outdoor explorations (and of food) on Instagram @simonacarini.
This article appears in ‘A Big Family’.