For 500 Days

Another 100 days passed walking. I managed to continue the journey I’ve been going on for 500 days. Every blessed day I stroll 6 kilometer or more. Since December 27, 2018, I traveled 4103 kilometers, but I haven’t gotten far. I’m still in Kulcs, but I made a lot of progress inside.

When I walk alone, I cannot escape from my problems. The things that preoccupy me in that moment are emerging time after time from the depths of my consciousness. An unfinished task. An unpleasant misunderstanding. An old wound. I do not avoid them anymore. I great them with dignity when they take shape in my head. I cherish them. If a task not registered on my to-do list pops up, I send myself a one-word e-mail, to be able to fulfill it when I get back to my computer. This way, I do not have to keep them in mind. In most cases, I can clear my head quite quickly. Thoughts became rarer and rarer. My soul calms down. If I had a conflict with a person important to me, I replay the situation over and over in my mind until I am not seeking my truth, but the solution. I seldom carry the same burden for several days.

When somebody from my family accompany me on my daily walk, it is an extremely precious gift to me. Our talk is much more relaxed than in the rush of everyday life. On these occasions, there is nothing else, just she/he and me. I organize walking meetings with friends and business partners if they are like-minded. These are special moments of my life as well.

The vow of daily walking is an excellent remedy for laziness. I’m always ready to take out the garbage. Steps are counted. I’m happy to do the shopping or go to the post office. Kilometers are collected. I’m not going around in circles anymore to find the closest parking space to my destination. I put down the car in the first place. It doesn’t matter if I have to walk a bit to the grave of my father. In the meantime, I’m moving. I live.

The walks of the past 100 days gave me a lot of new insights, even if I follow the same path often. It feels like my senses are getting sharper. Deep in the forest, I notice the tiny Judas’s Ear among the dead leaves. In the cemetery, I hear the jingle of raindrops on the metal roof of the lampions. I see more of the world. I discovered the star of Bethlehem in the grass at the back of our garden, even though it may have blossomed there every year in the past decade. I hear the faint murmur of the smallest animals, the beautiful voice of the songbirds. I notice that the first rays of the rising sun casts my shadow through the floodplain trees on the frozen April wheat field. The whole experience is like finding a gate to a fabled world.