Walking Into Me

I’ve never been one to enjoy exercise. I’m quite unfit at the moment and heading to the gym is an absolute struggle. I’ve come to realise though that exercise isn’t about a struggle with inertia, it’s about my battle with self-love. Thanks to an introduction to MSC last year, I’ve learned to acknowledge this and my disdain for exercise is softening.

Nowadays I choose to deliberately exercise my body because I care a bit more about it. I’ll never be a tri-athlete (and don’t want to!) but at least I’m out there doing something. I’m very grateful to live in a neighbourhood that borders a beautiful lake. There’s a walking track all the way around the lake that meanders for well over 10 kilometres. In an effort to find my groove, I head off on the track most mornings to walk as many kilometres as I can fit in. I must confess though, I still battle with the process at times and have caught myself constantly checking the clock to see how long I have been trekking our lakeside path.

Last week I decided to try something different.

I decided to practice mindful walking, and it was incredible.

I started on the path with my head tilted downwards slightly. I found that helped me to clear my mind and focus on the actions of my body instead. I was conscious of my breathing – the effort of each inward and outward breath and a dry sensation in my mouth as I increased my pace. I became aware of the rhythm of my arms as they swayed back and forth in time with the opposite leg. I felt the twinge of my bung left knee. It has clearly suffered with my excess weight but on this walk, rather than berate myself for damaging my body, I worked with the pain – acknowledged it and noticed how my entire body works to accommodate my mild discomfort. I began to appreciate the wonders of my body and its ability to move me along the path. I stayed in this mindful body focused state for some time. I had a focus on all my moving parts rather like an apprentice mechanic has when they build their first engine.

Once I had developed a sense of self, I decided to be mindful of my surroundings. This proved to be quite a sensory experience and provided a world of pure delight.

I have lived by this lake for two years now, and this was the first time I had ever heard the water actually lapping up on the shore. I listened and I heard the waves. The sound was beautiful.

The wind howls through the trees edging the path and it sounds like a fighter-jet is approaching. The sound is much more immediate than the feel of the breeze on my body. It’s a feeling of anticipation mixed with joy to be amongst it all, and I can feel the goose bumps rising on my skin to protect me from the wind. It’s an anti-climax really. The humming sound is far more impressive than the whirling of the wind.

I’m mindful of the scenery. I notice that the sky isn’t blue but greyish in colour. The reeds in the water are a mix of greens and browns, and the lapping waves leave a frothy trail in the water as each wave rolls back from the shore. I can see that a buoy has washed ashore and I wonder what tales it could tell about life on the lake.

I’ve never seen such a variety of birdlife. I’ve taken the swans and the pelicans for granted – they’re an institution on our lake. Today though, they are joined by egrets, plovers, ducks and sandpipers. There’s even a kookaburra laughing at me! Why have I never noticed them before? It is a symphony.

I have become mindful of my place in this beautiful location. Finally I am grateful for the walking experience I have every single day. I am aware that I am living in my own natural movie state…

• Cue the wind.
• Cue the birds.
• Start the water feature we call the lake.
• Amplify the squelch of your feet as you take each step.
• Crank up the summer rain and let it tingle your skin with every tiny drop.

I feel connected to everything around me. I feel joyous. I am so grateful that I can walk this particular path.

I have lost all sense of time.

I feel alive.