Lately on my walks, I rest. I sit on a park bench and watch the kids race around the pond and the cardinals dance from branch to branch above me. The walk is exercise for my body, and I do what I need to get my heart rate up and my bones limbered. But I also take care of my spirit.
In my book club this morning, we read poetry. We do that every now and then, between books. One of our members, looking for a poem that didn’t reflect our dismal times too clearly yet wasn’t unrealistically chirpy, chose a favorite from her childhood, A.A. Milne’s Halfway Down, about a child who has a favorite place on the stairs, to stop, sit, think “funny thoughts,” and just be.
I feel a little like that child on my park bench, just sitting there, being. I wish I’d have done more of this when I was younger, instead of always hurrying. But that’s one benefit of aging—you get tired enough at times you just have to slow down. Ideally, you do it by a pond, with children giggling and birds crooning.
Originally published in Psychology Today on March 21, 2021
