In the past, whenever I went for my walk, I was never aware in any way of how gorgeous I am. I would often try to fit my walk in, almost as part of some ‘have to do’ list of chores to complete; I was totally unaware of the power of my walk. It was like ticking off the day box by box, with no real respect for me and what I truly needed to support me.
I would then often find that my days lacked a sort of space just to ‘be’. I had spent so long each day trying to be someone – like the ‘student’, ‘son’, ‘flatmate’, ‘cook’ and many other masks I put on – that I had no real time to just enjoy the real me.
It seemed that my walks too were never really for me to enjoy my body moving, either. They were driven, needy, set to time, and often full of lots of distractions and off-topic thoughts, like how my day was going or what sort of things I had to do when I got to work. I very rarely enjoyed the spaciousness that they could offer me. I was so caught up in my day and having to be someone, that to just be in my walk and enjoy that, seemed all too much. Seems that the masks had become so much a part of me I had forgotten what I felt like without them on!
I was rarely with myself. A friend asked me to recall what my feet felt like during my walks. I could not remember. I was so off in being someone or something else that my feet didn’t seem to be a part of me at all. They just seemed to be things that carried me from A to B and needed some maintenance from time to time – like going for walks, etc. They were my personal, in-built transport machines.
Not long ago though, I had the most revealing and deeply supportive moments I had felt on my walks in a long time.
I felt me.
Yep, I took the masks off and was agape at who I saw: a deeply tender, handsome man.
For the first time in ages I could feel that my walk was not based around getting anywhere, doing anything or trying to be someone. I wasn’t even concerned about the time. I took the moment as a space for me to enjoy me.
I found that in this space I could feel the gentle spring in each step I took, and the delicate wisp of my presence that warmed my chest each time I breathed. I could feel the deep simplicity of my walk, my love, and me. It was a time that was not governed by a need to finish something because I could feel how I was complete as I was. There was no need to worry about life because I could feel that my still presence offered all the strength I needed.
So now when I go for my walk, I enjoy the power of my walk and how gorgeous it is to be me, taking each step.
by Joshua Campbell (21) Living in Christchurch, NZ