The smell of humid soaked cypress and loblolly. A pileated drills. The softwood spine of a hundred-foot pine offers the meal. Threads of invisible silk cling to my brow. Wrapping my wiping fingers as I attempt escape from another web I’ve disturbed. A jay screams. Laughing.
I try to walk quietly in the woods. My presence is always disturbing enough. I didn’t mean to be without devices, but I’d forgotten my phone in the car. Forgot my watch, too. Still charging on my desk.
“So, you went silent walking…”
Her eyes young and brilliant bright. She speaks with a perked grin widened by sudden exclamation. Turns out I’m trendy.
The State Park is far from silent on a Saturday morning. Raucous birds. Unleashed dogs. Mountain bikes. Walkers and runners. Some playing their music out loud. A runner with headphones whooshed by singing. Dirty Vegas, I think.
“But you didn’t have any devices. You were just walking!”
Maybe I’m not that trendy. At the speed of Tik-Me, I’m sure the trend has already gone. It might be Tok-Me, I can’t recall, but I know it’s about me. Regardless, my nearly thirty friend is impressed by my story of meditation and self-discovery. I am humbled in the knowledge that something I’ve done my entire life, will keep doing for the rest of my days, briefly swept a sleeping culture to recognize the act as healthy for body and mind.
Walking can be a work to undo the work in my mind. An attempt to unthink the thinking of work. Removing myself from what usually exists. I walk, sometimes, to get someplace else. The destinations usually brief. Marking a point of turn for return. In our nearby State Park, I am usually walking in circles. Not true circles, but it’s a simple understanding my loops are tied at matching ends. My mind, my body, drifting between meandering and mending.
I remember when I embraced silent running. A needed transition. Going for a run and telling no one. No phone. No post. No tracking map. Just running. Almost all my running is silent these days. As I have been walking silently so long, the fact of my own transition on the run is revealing of the disabling addiction of devices.
We recently savored a silent dinner with friends. Close friends. Five of us around a round top. Burritos and margaritas. Stories and laughing from our bellies. Not one of us brought out a phone. For three hours. They turned the lights up and we celebrated closing the joint. And our love. We didn’t give any thought towards celebrating our silence.
Perhaps the act isn’t celebratory. But a simple grace to become more aware of disconnecting for greater connection. With nature. With the creatures and spirits that share the wild spaces. With myself. My breath.
And so, I keep walking in circles. To my childhood self. To the simple things I have always cherished. To my aging self. To the healthful choices that will keep me moving. And back to the present. This certain side of present I can, at least, call my own.
And as far as promoting the next quiet trend, a place for a healthful habit of spending time away from our devices…
Let’s try Silent Driving.
1. Cover photo by Author. Taken during an un-silent walk.
© Copyright William Hazel, 2024
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