Lesley's Post
Putting one foot in front of the other
Growing up in Britain if we wanted to go somewhere we mostly used our feet or caught the bus. The bus system was effective and efficient and we had raingear down to a fine art. There was no bad weather, only bad clothing.
To visit my maternal grandmother and grandfather the walk usually took me on the short cut through the colliery, the lane winding between the heaps of waste left over from the coal mining, with the heavy cables hanging high above me for ferrying the containers of coal and waste out of the deep pit. Often I was alone and a little scared but it didn't stop me. Going the long way round was a long way! The short cut to my parents' wool and drapery shop or to visit my boyfriend when I was in my teens was through the cemetery, a much more interesting place although that too could feel a little scary at times.
If it was too far to walk or the walk did not seem appealing, we would take the bus. As a pre-teen my friend Susan, who lived down the road, and I would take the bus on Saturday for the two mile ride to the local town to do some window shopping (if I was on my own I would usually walk). Pocket money did not add up to enough to actually buy anything but we loved thinking of all the things we would buy if we could.
I enjoyed the walking although it was more challenging when I was in my teens and wore high heeled shoes. Sometimes on Saturday night I would tag along with my sister (I must have been such a pain in the neck) to the local jazz club, decked out in my finery, high heels, short skirt and all. Not infrequently I missed the last bus home and then was faced with the more that scary walk in the dark, which took me past the pottery factories with no sign of life. Usually I would use the lampposts as markers, alternating between running and walking the distance between the lights, barely noticing that my feet were killing me. That kept my mind focused away from the fear. Looking back now I am amazed at the potential risk of it all.
My parents did have a car and we went for family outings into the countryside sometimes at the weekends. My mother would pack a picnic and once there we would usually, guess what, go for a walk!! In my teens I graduated to hiking, using the miles of footpaths and rights of way that crisscross the British countryside. I loved it and I still do.
My sister, hiking in the Lake District
Walking is great exercise and most of us could certainly use more of it but when we are focused on keeping our heart rate up we can miss some of the real joys of walking. It's lovely to stroll along experiencing the movement of our body and to stop to "smell the roses" whenever something interesting catches our eye. There is so much beauty and so many amazing things to see and experience wherever we are, be it in the city or the countryside. We miss most of it when we speed by in our cars or are too intent on a goal of miles per hour walked.
And remember that it is helpful psychologically to proceed through our lives one step at a time, to not feed our anxiety my getting ahead of ourselves, but to stay in the present moment. Although it is alot more difficult than we would like it to be, when we can do that it can assist us in being more at peace even in the midst of turmoil.
So maybe we can honor our soles/souls a little more, put our best foot forward and make opportunities to walk through our lives with gentleness for ourselves and others, one foot at a time.
