The Power of a Morning Walk
When I moved in with a work colleague this year, I made it clear that my walks to work are for solitude.
“On days we are scheduled to work together,” I explained, “I’ll leave earlier, or later, or I’ll walk a different route. I just like to be alone for my morning walk.”
I first realised that my morning walks were sacred to me when I moved in with a work colleague five years prior. Despite numerous attempts at walking to work with him, feigning interest in pre-coffee conversation whilst longing for my morning peace and quiet, I finally confessed. It wasn’t just that I needed to be alone, it affected my entire day. Walking to work was a time to adjust my mindset and prepare for the day ahead. Thankfully, he understood, and we never walked to work together again. My morning ritual was restored.
According to Harvard professor Michael Norton, routines are something we do, whereas rituals are about how we do them. They are “emotional catalysts that energise, inspire, and elevate us.” Rituals add something to our lives that enriches them, helping us savour our experience. They impact us on an emotional level.
Whilst my walking routes vary, they consistently involve the same level of preparation, thought, and energy. They are meditative, yet stimulating; they activate my day.
The preparation is what I’ll call my ‘pre-ritual routine’. As a night time showerer - because getting into bed without cleaning off the outside world and its germs is one of the most normalised crimes - I simply wake up, make my coffee and breakfast, then I sit down at the table or sometimes I’ll get back into bed. I take time to drink and truly appreciate my morning coffee… this is my daily moment for gratitude. Then, I relax, read the news, scroll through my phone, stretch, brush my teeth, get dressed, pack my bag and leave the flat. No morning shower, and I am not available for any criticism on that at this time.
My ritual begins with choosing music in the front garden, and then I set off on my walk to work, thinking about pretty much nothing. Admittedly, I’ll mentally perform a musical number or two, or have an imaginary conversation with one of the ghosts from my past, but as with all meditative experiences, I return back to the absolute bliss of sweet sweet nothing, as much as I can.
None of this strolling down the street at a glacial speed; I walk with pace and purpose. Being held up behind a slow coach deeply frustrates me and, as a result, I am a strong advocate for pedestrian fast lanes.
As seasons change, my morning walks remain a constant source of joy. I love to appreciate the weather. I walk to work on glorious summer days with bright blue skies and freezing mornings with bouncing torrential rain. I especially love the silvery days when haar rolls over the River Tay. I’ve even witnessed the rare iridescence of nacreous clouds.
Occasionally, I’ll leave half an hour early and take a longer route to work. This extended walk allows me to immerse myself even more deeply in the experience, appreciating the city around me.
The final stretch of my walk takes me along the waterfront. If it's sunny, I might sit and read for a while. As the transformative experience of my walk to work concludes and I prepare to face the workday, I take one last look across the river and breathe.
Intentional daily rituals have the power to transform ordinary routines into moments of appreciation and reflection. By bringing rituals into our daily lives with intention, attention, and repetition, we can foster greater connection, gratitude, and joy. These small changes in perspective encourage us to be more present, enriching our everyday experiences.
And so, my morning walk to work is not just a commute but an essentialritual that enriches my day, and my life.
Wednesday 4th September 2024
After sharing “The Power of a Morning Walk” at BKN, a group walk to the cliff became an extension of the personal meditative experience shared in my writing, engaging the group physically and experientially into this aspect of my practice.
As we walked together in shared silence, the experience became a collective meditation. Though individually thinking, an unexpected sense of connection was created. It was a powerful reminder of how walking, whether alone or in a group, invites reflection and presence.
There was a common ground in which we walked, physically, and metaphorically, highlighting individuality within a community. How can we be alone, yet together, walking the same path, grounded in common experience.
This quiet, shared presence mirrors aspects of my practice, where personal introspection meets collective engagement.
