A breath of fresh air

I went for a walk today in my favorite park, something I haven’t done in at least a month. I’m grateful it’s a county park and therefore its walking paths are open to the properly social distancing public.

The park was much less crowded than it would have been a year ago on an unseasonably warm day. Far fewer single walkers and far fewer kids splashing in the river.

But there were definitely people there. A few folks like me, walking alone. Most were moms with kids, some were couples. Two groups looked like they might be sneaking in a visit with people they hadn’t seen in a while. I tried not to judge or make assumptions.

When I arrived, I started walking my normal route along the river, untangling my earbuds so I could listen to a podcast like I typically do.

Then I literally stopped in my tracks and listened. Listened to a beautiful sound I hadn’t realized I missed. A sound I never really noticed before on my walks there, because my ears were usually stuffed with earbuds and information.

The river. Rushing water. Water lapping up against rocks and around logs. It was like music.

I shoved my earbuds in my pocket and spent the next 2.5 miles listening to the park. The river, the wind in the fir trees, the birds chirping, the kids laughing. All the sounds that have always been there, but I was too busy to notice.

As I listened, I breathed deeply and noticed smells I always took for granted. The sweet smell of fir, the musty smell of rotting wood, the rustic pitchy smell of a wooden bridge, the earthy fresh smell of dirt and grass commingling. My favorite park was alive in a way I had never taken the time to sense before.

The pace of the park was noticeably more leisurely. Few people were there for intentional, measured exercise. Most were moseying along the dirt path or stretched out on blankets on the lush grass or enjoying unrushed snacks at picnic tables.

Instead of checking "take a walk" or "go jogging" or "get the kids outside" off a daily task list, we were all just enjoying nature. Having time. Soaking in the sun. Smiling at other humans. Slowing down and simply being.

There are certainly things I miss about what used to be my normal life. But I'm realizing that there were also things I missed in my normal life. Beautiful, simple, life-giving things that I am grateful I now have prescribed time to notice.

A moment of zen