I used to go for long walks late at night with a good friend of mine. This was way back in high school and into college. We’d go for long walks when the air was cool and rich. When we could breath. When the things we’ve built start to shut down. And when the Earth starts to awaken. Or at least we begin to hear the Earth as it is: alive, breathing, crackling and creaking with life.
We’d talk about life and love and music. Things that mattered to us. Things that were real and present. We didn’t worry as much then, at least not about money or our mortality. We worried about living full lives and loving ferociously. We pondered and wondered and questioned things. We marveled at the possibilities and the immensity of the world.
Night walking with a friend was such a simple pleasure that I so rarely enjoy anymore. We move away. We get lives that are busy. We accumulate things and habits and fears. We become tied to rituals that get things done but don’t necessarily feed our souls.
I’d like to take more night walks. Even if it’s just me and the dog. To hear again. To see without the luxury of artificial light. To breath without forcing the air into my lungs. Night walking is best with a friend though. Someone to share in the mad yet rich, imperfect and nonsensical, wonderful world we live in. It’s ok to be happy from time to time. We have too few precious moments of joy and peace. It’s worth finding ways to celebrate and revel in them.
PS- “night walking” makes me think of Toad the Wet Sprocket and that makes me happy.
