I have taken to walking our dog at night after the temperature dips just enough to make the evening air inviting. I started trying to listen to podcasts during my constitutional, but I found that I was just getting angry or tired, so I switched to music that I know and love.
As Petey or Bleachers or Ben Kweller blast in my headphones, I’m struck by just how incredible it is to feel in control of all of my limbs. To walk, to breathe, and to see the beauty that is all around me. Even if it is just suburbia. Even if the moment is politically fraught. Even if there are plenty of things to worry about in my family or my work. The nightly walk is enough.
It is enough to show me that there is still so much of existence that feels achingly perfect. I would say that it feels like a miracle, but I don’t believe in miracles. It is more than that. More than just some unexplainable mystery, it feels so quintessentially human. Like, I am most myself, most human while I am perambulating upon this small bit of soil.
And all I have to do is notice and appreciate. So I do.
