I’ve been taking a lot of walks these days.

They started as a way for me to process my grief and adapt to my new routine. Walking allows me to still feel connected to Berkely while getting used to my life without him. Moving in nature has become my healing companion.

I don’t usually have a set route, I prefer to go wherever my feet take me. 

Today my feet took me along the nature path that circles the neighborhood. I walked up and down the hilly streets, weaved alongside the bends of the river, wandered through the shaded woods and out into an open field. I passed by a few of the older women in the neighborhood also on their midday walks. It’s like we all belong to the same unofficial group – “The Walking Housewives and Retired Women’s Club”. 

The trail takes about 30 minutes at my pace, mostly because I tend to stop and watch a pretty bird or sit next to the river and let my mind wander with the stream. Our neighborhood is situated behind a busy shopping plaza and adjacent to the interstate, but it’s so well covered by trees that I forget that all exists on the outside. 

For most of my walks, I go unplugged. I work from home so I feel that my ears and eyes are always connected to some device. So walking without anything but my watch, a palm-sized notebook to collect my inspirations, and maybe a book is a relief to my overstimulated senses. But there are other days when I just want to zone out to a podcast and listen to somebody else think for once.

In a way, walking has become my sacred practice. Nature and being outside are grounding and peaceful experiences for me, acting like a reset button when I need it. Other times, when I’m in a creative rut, the movement outdoors churns the wheels of inspiration in my brain. When I’m outside, the world in my mind feels a little quieter, a little more manageable. Because when I see the steadiness of the swaying trees, the vastness of the tall mountains, when I feel the softness of the grass and the warmth of the sun, I’m reminded that to be alive is a special experience. I can be still and remember that God is God.

My fiancé and I have different thoughts about what happens at the end of life. He sees it more scientifically, the laws of nature that energy transfers. One night feeling particularly sad about Berkely, I asked him where he thought Berkely’s energy transferred. He pointed at my heart and said “in you.”

I do miss having my walking buddy. Even when I was pulling him in a wagon, it was nice to have someone experiencing the beauty and refresh of nature with me. Berkely really loved being outside, even just sunbathing in the grass. And if I had it my way, I’d be outside in the grass all day too.

So I’ll try to keep up with these daily walks, because at the very least they’re for my own good.

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No awkward selfie today because there are no rules and I will post as many pictures of Berkely as I want.