My wife and I both walk to work. I don’t state that to sound superior. We are frugal and we both teach on a university campus approximately 1.5 miles from our house where parking is scarce and expensive. Before vowing to walk or ride bikes more often, we had totaled our receipts for the parking garage on campus and it came out to over 2,000. that we had spent for one year. We had also both put on a bit of weight that year and felt less healthy all around. Plus, we both really like to walk. So, there were many reason to make a change.
But more than that, what we have realized is that the 25 minutes that it takes us to walk to work, through older residential neighorhoods and past a beautiful greenway that wraps both sides of the Milwaukee River, resets our minds, is meditative and reveals unexpected things to us. Walking is a repetitive action that calms the mind, activates the heart and breathing and reminds us that our bodies are capable of carrying us and whatever we are also carrying with us for quite some distance. It makes us feel more strong and resilient, yes. But beyond that, it is amazing what you notice and really see when walking, far beyond what one sees while driving or even riding a bike (which we also do from time to time).
Just yesterday we turned the corner onto Locust street and were approaching the bridge when we came across the most amazing sight. What had been a dense fog earlier in the morning (so thick that we could not see across our street) was slowly dissipating as the sun rose higher, creating a golden silver light that was attempting to break through the fog. That alone was beautiful. But the fog over the Milwaukee River and the forested area on either side of it was still holding on, thick and gray. The trees and the moving calm water that reflected them in fragments, didn’t seem solid. Everything up close was visible but slightly out of focus and disappearing quickly into thicker fog as the landscape moved away from us. It was an extreme example of atmospheric perspective. It was almost fairy tale-ish in its mystery and beauty. It was, in short, wonderous. I imagined Claude Monet, 150 years ago quickly pulling out his canvas and paints and trying to capture this moment. He and the Impressionists had to develop new techniques for painting that would allow them to capture such evanescence and fleeting quality of light and season. We both gasped at this moment of beauty and stopped to take it in.
And then, as though in a second or supporting act, we noticed that along the bridge horizontal rails where we stood, spiders had spun some of the most perfect webs between the upper and lower hand rails running about a foot apart from one another. Those webs were made visible to us in their intricacy because droplets of dew were clinging closely all along each thread, illuminating each like strings of small diamonds sparkling in the silver sunlight. Those webs, hundreds of them stretching the length of the bridge like fine jewelry, the likes of which we could not afford, nor would we have any event to which we might wear such treasures. And yet, they were right there, running the stretch of this public place for all to experience.
A week or so ago on a sunny and clear day we had stopped along that same stretch of bridge to watch a Blue Heron as it fished for its meal occasionally stretching or shaking itself. It barely moved otherwise and blended in with the rippled water that was reflecting the blue sky. We wouldn’t have seen it if we hadn’t been looking for it.
When I see these it lifts me up and gives me a feeling connectedness to these sights for the entire day. I want to stop strangers as they pass and share the experience with them. I often do that and they too get excited and express gratitude for the sharing.
What are we missing by rushing through life? The first of many books that I read by Rebecca Solnit, who then became a favorite author, was titled Wanderlust: A History of Walking. In it she explored the history of walking as both a physical activity and also its applications to history, philosophy, environmental science, education and so many other arenas. I highly recommend it…the book and the walking, in natural beauty or wherever you are able.