An Evening Walk
In an effort to clear my mind, I committed to walk in one direction for twenty minutes with no phone, purpose, or destination. I took a moment then sit and reflect on the stroll, and let me tell you, 10/10 would recommend.
As I walked, my senses awakened. It seemed as though I was noticing them for the very first time. I walk everyday, and I use my senses everyday. This walk was different: it felt like a completely new experience for my senses. It’s not that anything I experienced was new, but that the idea of really noticing them was so foreign. All too often my daily walks are a sensory overload: my phone, throngs of people, hundreds of vehicles, and the ever present ticking clock. While all of those things were still present on this jaunt, they seemed less burdensome.
On my walk to class, I have a goal in mind: to get to the next building as quickly as possible. This time, I still had a goal in mind: to walk in one direction for 20 minutes, but it felt like a purposeless wander – in the best way. It felt like casually meandering – all the while remaining on a steady path. This altered perspective sparked my observation and appreciation of the environment I pervaded. With a relaxed perspective and phone in pocket, I began to notice my environment in more detail. I drive up north on Guadalupe Street several times a week but never walk. By slowing down, I noticed things I never had before: the tongue on the Godzilla statue atop the Wheatsville Co-op, that small salon between the dog wash and Via 313, and the delicate tile work on the outside of Planet K: all of these things I was always too busy to notice.
The drag, being the portion of Guadalupe Street that runs through campus, is packed with restaurants, especially around dusk. At the time of my walk, the grills in kitchens were running full steam ahead, and the air filled with wonderful smells: tacos, burgers, pizza, and baked goods just to name a few. All these smells and more blew along with the fresh fall breeze of a surprisingly cool September afternoon. Next to the smell lingering in the air after a rainstorm and fresh morning dew, the smell of the air during fall is one of my favorite unconventional scents. I honestly am not sure what creates the wonderful crisp smell – maybe a mixture of tree leaves and cut grass or the cooler temperature altering the chemical make up of the air around me. There must be some science to it or maybe simply nostalgia, but the air fills my lungs and my heart nonetheless.
At the advent of my journey, the sounds were rowdy. Several people walked around me: a group of girls clunking along in heels - ready perhaps ready a bit early for a night downtown, a group of students, chatting in their native tongue – and while I may not have understood it, I could tell they were enjoying each other's company, and a couple, probably taking an evening stroll to their romantic dinner destination of choice while retelling tales of the day. As I drew further from campus, the numbers of people steadily dwindled. The most memorable moment I had was the sudden hush on the road between traffic light shifts. It was so stark. One minute, the constant whirring of wheels and motors, and the next – almost total silence. I nearly stopped right in my tracks to take in the moment more intensely. It was so awe-inspiring and wonderful – that brief moment of silence in a place you would not expect to find it.
A task without a burden, such a rare occurrence – much like the awesome pause in traffic or the attentiveness to detail in the mundane landscape. While the burden of school work looms over me, the walk was the most peaceful part of my day – and a stressful day at that. What a blessing that for a brief moment, again like the pause in traffic, that I was able to just breathe. Breathe in the air, take in the smells, feel the sounds, and, as if for the first time, experience the sights.