Winter Walks

...or getting out of my head for a minute.

Winter walking is one of my favorite habits I picked up in the pandemic. Although I’ve always loved the winter months, I generally preferred to enjoy them from the cozy indoors with a hot drink in my hand. But in the lockdown winters my emotional wellbeing depended on my near-daily walks. I bought a long coat, thick insulated gloves, and a reflective vest. I walked in the dark, on icy streets, muddy trails, and even in blowing snow. Putting one foot in front of the other was both cathartic and grounding in such an unsettling time. Sometimes it was a peaceful wander through the park, sometimes a way to process a particular challenge or crisis, a companionable walk with a friend (or therapist), or sometimes it was just an escape from my house to take a brisk loop around the block and clear my head. It’s a practice that I continue today, even if a bit inconsistently. In fact, I found myself in a foggy malaise today and realized that it’s been over a week since I’ve walked.

In the last few months I’ve read two walking memoirs, both of which have made wonderful audiobook companions on my winter wanderings. The first was The Salt Path by Raynor Winn, a story about her journey to walk the 630 miles long South West Coast Path with her husband on the wild coast of England. And most recently, Katherine May’s memoir of her autism diagnosis as well as her walks along the same path - The Electricity of Every Living Thing. Although this was not my favorite¹ of May’s books, it was a great follow up to The Salt Path (which I had not wanted to end!). In it she perfectly describes the primal need to walk. For her, it’s not an option - walking is the tether that keeps her firmly connected to her place in the world. Without it her brain tailspins and her senses become overstimulated and raw. I am not autistic, but as a sensitive soul this resonates deeply.

The dreamy South West Coast Path

I have also become completely enchanted with the landscape both of these books describe. The wild British coastland is a part of my deep imagination now. I feel like I can hear the crash of the sea along the cliffs, smell the salt air and warm sun on stone, hear the sea birds and the wind blowing through gorse and thrift, see the swallows dipping and diving and it makes my heart sing. I’ve literally dreamt of eating sun-warmed blackberries that are slightly salty from the sea air. My walks are much less wild, but even still I relate to the calming moments they describe as walking puts you into a sort of trance - a peaceful, transcendent space between water, earth, and air.

---

The card I drew for this book comes from the Gentle Tarot, one of my favorite decks designed beautifully by indigenous artist Mariza Ryce-Tovar. Mari says on her website: “I strongly believe that our mental health is very much influenced by our connection or lack of connection with our ecosystem” and each of her cards reflects her beautiful local flora and fauna of remote Alaska. This made it seem like the perfect deck for this book about making connections with the land and our wild kin.

Four of Pentacles from The Gentle Tarot

I drew the 4 of stones (pentacles) which is a beautiful, earthy card. Fours in the tarot have to do with stability and security. Traditionally, this card was about economic stability and many cards depict a king or lord who is holding (hoarding?) his four golden coins. But this version has a person sitting peacefully by a salmon stream. What makes you feel safe and steady in your body? The pentacles, or stones here, represent earth energy and I can’t think of a more fitting card for walking as self-tending. Walking as nervous system reset. This card gently asks²: Is struggling and striving making you feel richer? Is working constantly and never taking a break making you feel successful? Is rushing through your to-do list every day making you feel accomplished and at peace? What makes you feel safe and steady in your body?

I don’t have a wild British coastline with endangered curlews³ and wandering sheep, but I do have beautiful metro parks and good, warm boots. When I’m feeling unmoored and affronted by the daily onslaught of terrible news and my head is buzzing from too much input, I’ll meet a friend for a wild & windy walk. (One so cold and windy, in fact, that my cheeks are still rosy as I type this an hour later!) I will find the treasures in my own backyard: juncos and sparrows at our feeders, a large woodpecker above our chicken coop finding late winter stores. I’ll hunt for small verdant clumps of fuzzy moss, and the first snowdrops of the year blossoming bravely through the snow. This is peace. This is place.

1. My absolute favorite of her books is Wintering and I’m dying to get my hands on her next book too: Enchantment! The subtitle of which is “reawakening wonder in an age of exhaustion” - Yes, please!

2. Some of these questions came directly from the podcast Between the Worlds podcast on the four of pentacles. It’s one of my favorite tarot podcasts.

3. A beautiful video of curlews & coastline.