‘No thought so burdensome you can’t walk away from it’

When something’s wrong, there’s no thought or feeling you can’t walk away from.
Literally. One foot in front of the other, just like grandpa used to do it.
In Chicago, I’d strap on my hiking boots, and would walk all the way from Bucktown to the Hair Wash (The Harold Washington Library) downtown and back, about an eight-mile round trip haul. I also spent hours roaming along Lake Michigan.
Now, I’m on the other side of the lake, but doing just the same thing in Manistee. A lot of the walking I’ve done so far has been in the woods with a shotgun. But I’ve also done my fair share in town. It’s the only way to explore a new place. You can’t really see anything when you’re driving, can’t take in the full details of the landscape.
It forces you to slow down and think at the speed of life.
It’s also a powerful remedy for what ails you. When I’m ambulatory, whatever is clogging up my brain pipes is flushed. Whatever foul shroud hangs upon my head is lifted.
Kierkergaard agrees.
“Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one can not walk away from it.”
These are wise words to live by.
Just yesterday I walked 45 minutes down to the First Avenue beach in a winding way through neighborhoods I’m still trying to learn. The large old homes west of Maple are humbling to walk past. They are living history of Manistee’s lumber days, or so I read on the plaques.
Down at the beach, I like to poke around on the pier, smell the air, beat my chest, that sort of thing. On my way back, I take the Riverwalk, which is a wonderful amenity for the community. Being next to water is like being under the looming old lumber mansions: the elements that make up the town have the chance to seep in.
I could have gotten none of this rolling around in a car.
On the Riverwalk, I encountered a man who seems to share my enthusiasm for rambling. He is in his 60s. The autumn sun shone off his bald pate. He was coming toward me on the wooden walkway, so I moved over to the side. The man greeted me with a wide smile.
“Great day for a walk!” he said.
I agreed with him so much that I refrained from telling him that his little dog, who scooted and darted around in front of him, was not allowed on the Riverwalk.
“Sure is,” I said.
Still, I say walking shouldn’t be done solely for exercise. Doing anything just to get exercise — jogging, strapping yourself to some machine in a sweaty gym or using a ThighMaster — is kind of corny.
But let’s face it, the health nuts have taken over. They’ve invaded our minds and have made us petrified. You’re going to die if you don’t take vitamins, only eat whole grains and exercise daily in your anaerobic heart rate range.
Well, you’re going to die no matter what. Ask Kierkergaard. Dying was one problem he couldn’t walk away from.
So our culture is a contradiction. Television commercials flash cheeseburgers the size of your head (or bigger, depending on the size of your television), tauntingly rotating them around before your hungry eyes.
The next edit then reveals some gaunt looking actor or actress who looks like they’ve been living on paste. If films and television are a projection of our deepest dreams and desires flung up on a screen or lit up in a tube, then we all want to mow through mounds of cheeseburgers and pizzas and yet still looking dashingly svelte.
Ah, but now I’m getting all stirred up and ready to argue, make claims, posit theories and support them. How exhausting.
I think I’ll take a stroll.