daily walks as creative practice

or: a gentle reminder to just show up

i have tried to build a creative practice for as long as i can remember. there was always something in the way: school, work, then grad school and more work. then the notebook i got wasn’t quite right for the task, and the app i used to record myself playing the guitar was too hard to figure out, and my new camera has a setting i’m not too familiar with, so i might as well never use it.

the thing about a creative practice—or any practice for that matter—is that it is easier to sustain once it becomes a habit. something that you do regularly because it needs to be done, either out of necessity or because it matters that much to you.

take exercising, for example. we all need to do it, but it is incredibly challenging to build the habit in the first place. in may, my husband and i finally decided to try something new: walk every morning around a pond near our house, which takes about 45 minutes.

we weren’t sure if we would be able to do this. we had tried, and failed, to have an exercise routine for years, but this seemed somewhat easier than going to the gym. plus, our dog Ziggy, a border collie mix, needed a daily long walk badly, and this helped motivate us further.

and so the experiment began. nearly every morning for the past six months, we have been getting up early, having breakfast, and driving out to the park. the walk itself is easy and the terrain flat. as time passed, i began recognizing familiar faces and dogs. i even memorized some of the dog’s names that i overheard as their owners called after them. i started paying attention to the trees, the wildlife, the water.

may in new england is not too cold and not too hot, so the walks were easy and didn’t require much in the way of special clothing or preparation. as the weather got hotter, however, things got a bit more challenging, especially for someone that dislikes summer as much as i do. but everyday, rain or shine, we were there.

at the end of the summer i started having several health issues that forced me to slow down, though i found it important to keep the daily walk for all of our sakes. in the past six months, i have walked through pain, bad weather, sleepiness, tiredness, disappointment, and burnout. i walked with my hands nervously clutching my phone waiting for the doctor to call, and i walked tentatively and slowly after medical procedures, hoping that the movement would heal me somehow.

in the fall, i walked looking up in awe at the foliage, and in the winter i walk looking down, watching out for black ice.

walking around the pond, morning after morning, weekday or weekend, made me realize how much i have learned about the place without even trying. i know, for example, what shade of blue or green the pond will be depending on whether it’s a sunny or cloudy day. i know that some of the birds like to huddle together in one single corner of the pond to rest or sleep. i know that yellow is the last color to disappear before the various shades of brown and white of the winter make their entrance.

after spotting two coyotes near the smaller pond one morning, i mentioned their sighting to the park ranger who said, nonchalantly, that they “lived in the property.” i felt bad for snitching on them, the rightful dwellers of a place i was only a visitor.

i know the specific spot along the loop where i will want to remove my hat and gloves because it means my body is warming up. i know that every time i see this one stretch of land with a beautiful bed of dried pine needles, i think to myself, this would be a lovely place to rest.

walking while and walking through, these are the two lessons i have learned from my daily walks.

walking while noticing the world around me with very little distraction, observing every little thing with curiosity and very little judgement. walking while lost in thought only to be brought back to the present by a beautiful tree that has caught my eye, or because the pond is shining in a way i hadn’t noticed before.

walking through physical and emotional distress, with tentative steps. pushing my body gently, hoping that it and i can make it safely to the other side. feeling the pain but moving with the conviction that i will feel better in the end. walking through by moving forward, literally.

this daily practice is also a reminder that i can rely on myself more than i thought possible. i am proving to myself, day in and day out, that i can show up to do something that matters to me on a regular basis.

walking while and walking through, and always showing up.

this, i am now realizing, is how i should build my creative practice.

creating while attending to the world around me, or while distracted, busy, and uninspired. creating while attending to the present and watching my step, or getting caught up in thought.

creating through challenges, big or small, creating through discomfort. creating through difficult moments, or even because of them. creating through doubt, uncertainty, pain.

creating and showing up.