Riding my bike to a job site building Habitat for Humanity house and it’s an early spring morning with that fresh green accompanied by the cacophony of migrating birds. I’m trying to freeze this thrumming feeling to save for the dark days. But I also want to share it; maybe it’s cuz I live alone, maybe cuz it just brims over sometimes....And there’s a wrinkled old man on a porch, seemingly older than I am but maybe the same age (ha!). His face apparently locked in the wrinkles and his eyes looking out have seen more of some things than mine. Our eyes catch for just a sec as I’m rolling by and I smile cuz I try to be intentional about that. His face breaks open too. That CSNY line comes into my mind, “if you smile at me, I will understand cuz that is something everybody everywhere does in the same language” It is a puny way an old white lady like me can break down a puny barrier. It’s almost like a namaste. Makes me laugh at myself, though, cuz there was a morning several years ago - same kind of morning, where I smiled and said good morning to a woman getting off a bus and she said, “fuck you bitch!” So, ya just never know the reception you’re gonna get or where on the road somebody else is....just human-to-human and the question is - can I hold whatever comes with a modicum of grace
I’m devoted to smiling and waving, saying Hi to neighbors and making small talk about birds and dogs and plants. I live in the Northeast, where this is not necessarily common practice, and sometimes I just wonder if it’s a Midwestern thing. I do know that it makes me feel more connected to where I live, especially as a relative newcomer to this part of the world, and I like being the kind of person who generates a little bit of human warmth when I am out in the world. I will be thinking of you when I sat out on my walk a little later this morning.
"And while I don’t see those glorious spirits nearly so much as I did during the darker season, I find the return of the birds to be a more than suitable stand-in for the sky."
When I take long walks in the woods I either smile or wave or say hi to everyone I encounter, including their dogs. Some of the grumpiest-looking people will give the hint of a smile in return. A walk in the woods always has a social aspect, although I can walk for some time without seeing another person. The trees, the butterflies, the birds, the rabbits, the plants are all part of the feeling of being social. I have felt acknowledged and deeply loved when there were no human beings to be seen in the woods. I love the woods.
Thanks so much for this post. Especially love the photo of the morning scene with "The Seer" just visible.
Great stuff. Janet and I hiked in the thunderstorm in Two Medicine yesterday. Glorious thunder. A fellow hiker saw me and said, “You’re still smiling!”
I love saying hello to fellow hikers, I love smiling at them and if they’re willing, I’ll inquire if they’re tourists and I’ll even offer hiking recommendations. I enjoy finding that common ground and also making sure they see a friendly face in Montana. Janet and I have assisted tourists trying to maneuver a herd of bighorn sheep. That was so fun! I agree, we all have SOMETHING in common.
The Casual Hiker Hello is one of my favorite things. Low pressure, big reward. Sometimes it's just "hey," and sometimes it's "you're still smiling" and sometimes it's the unexpected assist.
My dad taught me as a small to always say hello on the trail, and offer to help if someone looks like they need it. If he hadn't done that, I think I'd struggle with how to know when to engage. I appreciate his gift every time a Casual Hiker Hello lifts my day.
This post is so timely. I am back in New York for a few weeks and admittedly found myself feeling a bit hunched over, eyes down, and self-protective walking around for the first few hours upon returning. But then I remembered this concept about being mindful not to "other" anybody. No one is an other, everyone is kin. And so I pulled my shoulders back and smiled at everyone standing outside of a bustling barber shop - and they all smiled back and told me I was a beautiful person. And then I laughed and then they laughed and everybody felt good. And I was like "Right. This."
Man, I love this. We (the Partner and I) started walking (both for pleasure and for transportation) when we moved to MO in 2013 (we lived in Columbia, a delightfully walkable city). When we moved back to Little Rock, we kept the habit up. Now we have like six different routes we walk around our neighborhood and adjoining 'hoods. Over time, I've gotten to know the different street cats and dogs that reside around the joint (as well as their house and yard-living friends). And we've gotten to meet all sorts of people, too. My routes don't put me in contact with many Gadsen Flag-waving folks, but life in Arkansas tends to do that anyways. These walks likely aren't quite as countryside idyllic as yours, but I imagine that we both draw the same joy from listening to our birds fuss at each other as the sun rises.
I love what everyone here is saying…I like to smile and nod my head to folks. During those mask wearing days, I tried to smile with my eyes. And sometimes, when I forget to really look at people because my mind is all worked up about something, I almost have been knocked over with a stranger’s unexpected smile, so genuine, beautiful that I have actually gasped, then turned around to watch them keep going, hoping for a repeat.
Thanks, Chris. You dropped a few bombs of your own here. "What does it hurt me to be a little more thoughtful in noting more of my random encounters with my relatives, human or otherwise, with the tiniest of gestures?" Indeed!
I am late getting to this email as I was out of town last week. I so appreciate the walks, the birds, the data on smiling at strangers. Beautiful as always. Also I ran across a post last night that made me think of your writing and your one line a day practice. “Poetry is the honest record of our days.” -Mark Nepo in Drinking from the River of Light. The whole paragraph that that line comes from is amazing, about authenticity of poetry and searching and it ended on that line which made me think of you and this space. Thanks for all you share.
We don’t walk enough as a culture. I am taking students on two field trips this spring and we are walking and boy are they complaining. I appreciate the book rec. I’m starting a nature- hiking club at the high school and that might come in handy. I appreciate the reminder to find peace before signing on- I am too connected to the little dopamine hits these days and need to recenter. Grateful Chris!
I love hearing about how you interact with the world around you, in whatever shape it takes. That mist, the birds, the thoughts about our connections with everything around us. This: "What does it hurt me to be a little more thoughtful in noting more of my random encounters with my relatives, human or otherwise, with the tiniest of gestures? Who knows what difference it could make." I keep thinking about this in terms of attention, what we give our attention to, what we withhold our attention from without thinking... that offering of grace that just takes a nudge sometimes, a recollection, or a call to turn toward. I think about that a lot--and love reading about it in your musing as well.
I live out on a rural county road. My walk back and forth to the mailbox is half a mile. Great for walking but not for seeing anyone to greet! So, I do the next best thing: as I drive to town on this county road, I wave to each car or pickup I meet. My quick “hand up” gesture to say hello is sometimes returned, which warms my heart. This was a thing from my past, when my parents waved to neighbors as they passed going to town, so I’m trying to bring back that moment of friendliness and welcome.
Thank you for all this--your words, the Ted Kooser poem that knocked me over, and the Annabel Streets book recommendation which I now have checked out from the library. I go for walks of various lengths, alone or with my husband, in loops around the neighborhood or through the nearby Squaxin Park (named for the people whose lands I am living on) or downtown to the farmers' market walking along the water and watching for seals and birds.
We started going for daily walks early in the pandemic. I work one of the privileged jobs that let me stay home while other people went out into the world so I would have access to food and power and the Internet and (eventually) toilet paper. I did a lot more cycling than walking back then for my work commute and now walking is my #1. I still love to ride and will always prefer human movement pace over vehicular. Walking gives me the gift of time for those human connections you describe. I meet dogs and cats, smile at neighbors and strangers, smell whatever's in bloom right now so I know certain stretches of road as "that place that smells so sweet right now" or "near the coffee roastery".
I work in active transportation so it's natural for me to think about the benefits of walking or rolling, but I think first and foremost before any health or environmental or economic benefits it's simply this opportunity for connection with another human being with no glass and steel between us, and this recognition of shared life energy with the whole world around us.
I've had to discontinue my paid subscription (my only paid one... times are tight and getting tighter), but I will continue to look forward to your posts more than any others. Thank you so much for your view of the world, your wisdom, your glimpses into a countryside I don't know at all, and your generous spirit.
Thank you for this beautiful essay. I started walking the hour to work during the pandemic when the bus service unreliable and it’s now an unshakable part of my routine. It was also wonderful to hear you’re a fan of Ted Kooser. His work so often captures things I’ve felt and didn’t know how to put into words.
Riding my bike to a job site building Habitat for Humanity house and it’s an early spring morning with that fresh green accompanied by the cacophony of migrating birds. I’m trying to freeze this thrumming feeling to save for the dark days. But I also want to share it; maybe it’s cuz I live alone, maybe cuz it just brims over sometimes....And there’s a wrinkled old man on a porch, seemingly older than I am but maybe the same age (ha!). His face apparently locked in the wrinkles and his eyes looking out have seen more of some things than mine. Our eyes catch for just a sec as I’m rolling by and I smile cuz I try to be intentional about that. His face breaks open too. That CSNY line comes into my mind, “if you smile at me, I will understand cuz that is something everybody everywhere does in the same language” It is a puny way an old white lady like me can break down a puny barrier. It’s almost like a namaste. Makes me laugh at myself, though, cuz there was a morning several years ago - same kind of morning, where I smiled and said good morning to a woman getting off a bus and she said, “fuck you bitch!” So, ya just never know the reception you’re gonna get or where on the road somebody else is....just human-to-human and the question is - can I hold whatever comes with a modicum of grace
"It’s almost like a namaste." It's TOTALLY a namaste! ❤️
🙏
"...can I hold whatever comes with a modicum of grace"
That phrase, well, you just knocked me over with a feather, such a beautiful sentiment, thank you.
Agreed.
I’m devoted to smiling and waving, saying Hi to neighbors and making small talk about birds and dogs and plants. I live in the Northeast, where this is not necessarily common practice, and sometimes I just wonder if it’s a Midwestern thing. I do know that it makes me feel more connected to where I live, especially as a relative newcomer to this part of the world, and I like being the kind of person who generates a little bit of human warmth when I am out in the world. I will be thinking of you when I sat out on my walk a little later this morning.
💚
"And while I don’t see those glorious spirits nearly so much as I did during the darker season, I find the return of the birds to be a more than suitable stand-in for the sky."
When I take long walks in the woods I either smile or wave or say hi to everyone I encounter, including their dogs. Some of the grumpiest-looking people will give the hint of a smile in return. A walk in the woods always has a social aspect, although I can walk for some time without seeing another person. The trees, the butterflies, the birds, the rabbits, the plants are all part of the feeling of being social. I have felt acknowledged and deeply loved when there were no human beings to be seen in the woods. I love the woods.
Thanks so much for this post. Especially love the photo of the morning scene with "The Seer" just visible.
"The trees, the butterflies, the birds, the rabbits, the plants are all part of the feeling of being social." 🙏🏽
Great stuff. Janet and I hiked in the thunderstorm in Two Medicine yesterday. Glorious thunder. A fellow hiker saw me and said, “You’re still smiling!”
I love saying hello to fellow hikers, I love smiling at them and if they’re willing, I’ll inquire if they’re tourists and I’ll even offer hiking recommendations. I enjoy finding that common ground and also making sure they see a friendly face in Montana. Janet and I have assisted tourists trying to maneuver a herd of bighorn sheep. That was so fun! I agree, we all have SOMETHING in common.
I love being out in storms.
The Casual Hiker Hello is one of my favorite things. Low pressure, big reward. Sometimes it's just "hey," and sometimes it's "you're still smiling" and sometimes it's the unexpected assist.
My dad taught me as a small to always say hello on the trail, and offer to help if someone looks like they need it. If he hadn't done that, I think I'd struggle with how to know when to engage. I appreciate his gift every time a Casual Hiker Hello lifts my day.
This post is so timely. I am back in New York for a few weeks and admittedly found myself feeling a bit hunched over, eyes down, and self-protective walking around for the first few hours upon returning. But then I remembered this concept about being mindful not to "other" anybody. No one is an other, everyone is kin. And so I pulled my shoulders back and smiled at everyone standing outside of a bustling barber shop - and they all smiled back and told me I was a beautiful person. And then I laughed and then they laughed and everybody felt good. And I was like "Right. This."
"Right. This." 🙏🏽
Man, I love this. We (the Partner and I) started walking (both for pleasure and for transportation) when we moved to MO in 2013 (we lived in Columbia, a delightfully walkable city). When we moved back to Little Rock, we kept the habit up. Now we have like six different routes we walk around our neighborhood and adjoining 'hoods. Over time, I've gotten to know the different street cats and dogs that reside around the joint (as well as their house and yard-living friends). And we've gotten to meet all sorts of people, too. My routes don't put me in contact with many Gadsen Flag-waving folks, but life in Arkansas tends to do that anyways. These walks likely aren't quite as countryside idyllic as yours, but I imagine that we both draw the same joy from listening to our birds fuss at each other as the sun rises.
Total joy, yes. But "countryside idyllic"? I don't know. When I say the adjoining field is a Superfund site, I'm not wielding hyperbole, heh.
I love what everyone here is saying…I like to smile and nod my head to folks. During those mask wearing days, I tried to smile with my eyes. And sometimes, when I forget to really look at people because my mind is all worked up about something, I almost have been knocked over with a stranger’s unexpected smile, so genuine, beautiful that I have actually gasped, then turned around to watch them keep going, hoping for a repeat.
Thanks, Chris. You dropped a few bombs of your own here. "What does it hurt me to be a little more thoughtful in noting more of my random encounters with my relatives, human or otherwise, with the tiniest of gestures?" Indeed!
I am late getting to this email as I was out of town last week. I so appreciate the walks, the birds, the data on smiling at strangers. Beautiful as always. Also I ran across a post last night that made me think of your writing and your one line a day practice. “Poetry is the honest record of our days.” -Mark Nepo in Drinking from the River of Light. The whole paragraph that that line comes from is amazing, about authenticity of poetry and searching and it ended on that line which made me think of you and this space. Thanks for all you share.
This is lovely, thank you.
We don’t walk enough as a culture. I am taking students on two field trips this spring and we are walking and boy are they complaining. I appreciate the book rec. I’m starting a nature- hiking club at the high school and that might come in handy. I appreciate the reminder to find peace before signing on- I am too connected to the little dopamine hits these days and need to recenter. Grateful Chris!
Good luck with those dopamine hits. It's a hard thing to get over....
I love hearing about how you interact with the world around you, in whatever shape it takes. That mist, the birds, the thoughts about our connections with everything around us. This: "What does it hurt me to be a little more thoughtful in noting more of my random encounters with my relatives, human or otherwise, with the tiniest of gestures? Who knows what difference it could make." I keep thinking about this in terms of attention, what we give our attention to, what we withhold our attention from without thinking... that offering of grace that just takes a nudge sometimes, a recollection, or a call to turn toward. I think about that a lot--and love reading about it in your musing as well.
💚
I love a cat gift of hello. Thanks for sharing <3
😸
I live out on a rural county road. My walk back and forth to the mailbox is half a mile. Great for walking but not for seeing anyone to greet! So, I do the next best thing: as I drive to town on this county road, I wave to each car or pickup I meet. My quick “hand up” gesture to say hello is sometimes returned, which warms my heart. This was a thing from my past, when my parents waved to neighbors as they passed going to town, so I’m trying to bring back that moment of friendliness and welcome.
Thank you for all this--your words, the Ted Kooser poem that knocked me over, and the Annabel Streets book recommendation which I now have checked out from the library. I go for walks of various lengths, alone or with my husband, in loops around the neighborhood or through the nearby Squaxin Park (named for the people whose lands I am living on) or downtown to the farmers' market walking along the water and watching for seals and birds.
We started going for daily walks early in the pandemic. I work one of the privileged jobs that let me stay home while other people went out into the world so I would have access to food and power and the Internet and (eventually) toilet paper. I did a lot more cycling than walking back then for my work commute and now walking is my #1. I still love to ride and will always prefer human movement pace over vehicular. Walking gives me the gift of time for those human connections you describe. I meet dogs and cats, smile at neighbors and strangers, smell whatever's in bloom right now so I know certain stretches of road as "that place that smells so sweet right now" or "near the coffee roastery".
I work in active transportation so it's natural for me to think about the benefits of walking or rolling, but I think first and foremost before any health or environmental or economic benefits it's simply this opportunity for connection with another human being with no glass and steel between us, and this recognition of shared life energy with the whole world around us.
I've had to discontinue my paid subscription (my only paid one... times are tight and getting tighter), but I will continue to look forward to your posts more than any others. Thank you so much for your view of the world, your wisdom, your glimpses into a countryside I don't know at all, and your generous spirit.
Thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate your support, however it comes. 💚
Thank you for this beautiful essay. I started walking the hour to work during the pandemic when the bus service unreliable and it’s now an unshakable part of my routine. It was also wonderful to hear you’re a fan of Ted Kooser. His work so often captures things I’ve felt and didn’t know how to put into words.
Ah, yes. Kooser really is one of the best. 💚