HOPE DANCED >>

I’ve been taking lots of walks the last few weeks. No headphones, no music, no phone. Just me and my dog. I don’t really know where I’m going nor do I care. I don’t wear a watch, and without my phone, I have no concept of time. I go on a walkabout ala Crocodile Dundee. Seems adventurous. Yesterday, I went on three walkabouts and one of them ended up being almost 2 hours, I think. I judged this by the sun because it felt more authentic.

You’re probably thinking, “How does she have this much time…must be nice.” The easy answer is that my kids happen to be gone on vacation so it’s just me and my dog. I own my own business and train people a few hours a day, and have the rest of the day to work as hard or as little as I’d like, which is directly related to my mood du jour. I also have a large presentation that I should be composing, but I would rather poke my eyes out than stare at my computer these days, so my walkabouts are a healthy distraction from my work. Both are plausible reasons to get outside more than less.

However, the real answer is that I have time to walk because I make time. It’s important for my mindset and mood, and I function better when I make time to breathe, decompress and think. Or not think.  I’m not sure which one is better these days, but I think I’ve been thinking and not thinking and it seems to be working out well for me. My thoughts wander but I try to keep them wandering in a positive direction.

I like to walk throughout my neighborhood and explore. My dog is in charge of that. I go where she pulls me. Her leash-pulling used to bother me because I felt some stupid need to be in charge of my dog. That’s what dog owners do: train the dog to do what you want them to do. My dog is pretty smart and carefree. She likes to explore scents and sounds. I think she goes where life is interesting and rewarding at that given moment. She’s not looking at the butterfly passing in front of her nose wondering if there’s a better one in the next patch of tall grass. She enjoys that one, right there.

I like my neighborhood, but I live on a postage stamp sized lot with newly planted trees that are barely above shoulder height. I feel like I’m in a fish bowl as I can spit on my neighbors’ homes from any place in my house. I’m assuming they know that I know this, so hopefully they won’t irritate me because my aim is pretty good. When I walk, I tend to wander away from the spit zone devoid of privacy to the back of the hood, because there are less homes, less people, and more room to breathe. The lots are bigger and there are actual trees, big sledding hills and even a beautiful old silo with vines crawling up the sides.

There’s one lot in particular that I tend to meander through. It’s like I secretly own it, but I’m just waiting to build my tiny, modern dream home. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for or why, but nonetheless, I’m waiting so I’ll just keep pretending it’s mine. It has a phenomenal view of the sunrise, silo and sunset. There’s a winding gravel trail behind it lined with white pines, spruce, birch trees and tall prairie grasses. I envision waking up to the sun rising behind the vintage silo. In the evenings, I watch the sunset from our deck while my kids play with the dog, who is chasing some critter through the tall grass because that is what matters to her most at that moment in time.

My walkabouts free my mind. Without an agenda, I am much more aware of everything around me. I’ve heard that’s the thing to do if you’re trying to get in touch with yourself and the world around you. Just stop and notice things. Appreciate everything around you. So, that’s what I do. I look at the pretty rock formations, the tiny white pine that thrives despite the one dead branch below, listen to the frogs chirping and the hawk screaming. I even take note of the Japanese Beatle invasion of the trees that line the gravel path behind my secret lot.

Today was particularly lovely because the sun was shining—and it was shining on me today. I felt its joyful attention because it followed me as I walked. The rays warm my soul. It’s like a microwave oven–they heat from the inside out, and that is the sun. After it brings joy and warmth, it keeps giving. It lights me up on the inside, like a beacon of hope within me saying, “It’s ok, Kari. Everything’s warm and bright and ok now. Your light is still there. I just recharged you. Come back again tomorrow, I will be here again for you.” I notice you, sun, and I appreciate the free recharge.

Today, I am currently late to meet a friend for coffee. I awoke a little anxious and needed a quick walk with my dog. So, I hurried to the gravel path in the back of the neighborhood to harness some serenity and take it back with me. I got to the path and my level of awareness consisted of the sound of the gravel below me. I needed to walk faster to go get the calm before the coffee. Get through your walk. Get to the end of the path. Get home. Don’t be late. Somehow that was supposed to help me breathe.

Nonetheless, I was quite happy in the elements when suddenly my dog attempted to rip my left shoulder out of the socket. She jerked me because she was interested in something, but I was laser focused on the gravel path, and I jerked her back to my plan.  I had a coffee date, after all, no time to explore. The second time, she jerked me so hard I had no choice but to turn my head in her direction. Then, I stopped and cried. Because I wasn’t listening to her. She was trying to tell me to look up from the path. There’s more out there and you’re missing it. Not 20 yards in front of me were two Sandhill Cranes. They stood side by side amidst the tall grasses, right in the middle of my dream lot. My dog had seen them, I had not.

To complete the equation of a perfect walkabout with no music, headphones, phone, or agenda, plus the warming of my soul and the glowing beacon of hope, there was even more to appreciate today. But I needed to shift my focus from my initial intent to the life happening around me. Their graceful necks and distinct song as they fly overhead are alluring. You often hear them even when you can’t find them in the sky. But I think if I had to pinpoint my favorite thing about the cranes, it’s that you rarely, if ever, see them alone. They always have their partner with them. Sandhill Cranes mate for life, and to me, that is warmth and joy and glowing from within—because it exists. They are hope.

The wonderful thing I noticed today as I watched these beautiful creatures was their fluid synchronicity. One would ‘peck-peck-peck’ and forage for whatever it is they look for in the grasses while the other stood nearby with its long neck gently swaying side to side to keep watch. Then, they seamlessly switched roles. And then, hope danced.

This is by far the neatest part. It was as though they had previously choreographed their steps to shift to the next spot, only a few feet away. They foraged and shifted, all the while never getting too far apart. They moved in sync, like they knew where they were going before they even stepped because they’d done this so many times together.

So, today I am now 25 minutes late to meet my friend for coffee because I stood and watched the cranes dance for 15 minutes and then felt compelled to write this down lest I forget their magic. Other than my dog’s attempt to dislocate my shoulder from trying to eat the cranes, and lack of caffeine, I am quite warm, happy, and dancing with hope today.