Walking to Clear the Mind, Clearing the Mind to Walk
Bernardo da Costa Soares
September 30, 2022
I have never been one to take ‘Mindfulness Walks’. I, honestly, thought of the concept as a sort of escaping from your feelings, running away from healing through pain. I now realize how wrong that was. I had never experienced the overwhelmingness of life, how one might feel smothered by the simple thought of living. Walking helps, I will say that, and sometimes an escape is just as healing as processing.
I recently took my first mental health walk. I will not go into detail as to why I felt the way I did or how it came to such a pinnacle that I went against a belief I had so deeply rooted within me. The fact is that I did, rushing out of my room on a sunny Friday morning. I couldn’t be there anymore, alone, the sunlight peeking through the blinds like a stalker outside my window. I had to be outside, I had to be reminded that there was more to life than grey carpet and white walls, wooden desks with black tabletops.
Lincoln park felt soothing. Not too hot, not too cold either, just a sweet breeze blowing through the treetops. I decided to stick to the familiar this time, heading east on Belden Ave., toward the vastness of the lake. Space is what I needed, nothing but blue until the eye couldn’t see anymore and all that was left was the imagination.
Upon turning right down Fremont St., I stumble upon the first match for one of my paint chips. A golden doorbell contrasts against the black doors of a lovely townhome. I feel remotely awkward taking a picture of someone’s home, especially their front door, so I had to manage with capturing the perfect shot from a distance.
I continue down the street, trees line the sidewalks, something I can’t seem to get past. Shadows dance on the concrete to the rhythm of the wind. I take deep breaths and try to enjoy the autumn smell of early October, a mixture of nostalgia and freshness, one of the many contradictory aspects of fall. As I notice the choreography of bushes on flowerbeds, yellow strikes once again. A beautiful little flower, red-ish orange petals turn to a bright mustard yellow as it blooms. Not quite the perfect match, but neither is everything in life.
A few steps ahead is a sign, probably painted by someone’s 5-year-old, that reads “Fill your life with sunshine. Because you are sunshine.” I didn’t cry. That would be honestly pathetic and not what cool, mysterious people like me do. Not at all.
Left on Dickens Ave. and I can see Oz Park standing in the distance. Sometimes I run this path, usually in the mornings. I enjoy the silence of the park at 6 a.m. Today, however, the quiet of Oz is punctured by baseball, and basketball, and dogs, and children, and bikers. A nice change? I am conflicted.
Further ahead, past Oz Park, on the corner of Dickens and Lincoln, is a fountain. Nothing special, just your quintessential fountain, concrete and water. I sat down by said fountain, closed my eyes, and, for a full minute, focused on nothing but the water flowing endlessly. I can’t do meditation. I have tried, but my mind never stops. Yet, with the water everything was different. For that full minute, I thought of nothing but how the flow never stops. Same water going through the fountain, yet always different. Heraclitus might have been right after all.
I finally reached the Lincoln Park. The grass looked greener, shimmering in the wind. Sitting down, I noticed the birds flying high above, seeing everything and nothing at all. I can smell the water, I can feel the Lake. Close enough to taste it, too far to see it. I enjoy this not-quite-reachable aspect. To lose control for a second, let the world around you make the decisions for once.
After 20 minutes or so, I decided to head north a bit. The Zoo was right there, free to enter. I personally don’t like zoos that much, it is mildly depressing seeing animals that could be running wild in nature being kept in metal cages for the entertainment of humans. Humans!? What good have we done to this world? Why do we get to imprison these innocent creatures?
One of the things I like about the Lincoln Park zoo, though, is the nature. Near the Gorila exhibit, I came across, yet again, more flowers, only this time they were pink. The first of my pink matches! Hooray! Hydrangeas in full bloom.
Heading back on Belden Ave., I realized something I had not before. The ground. Look at the ground, Bernardo! Parts of the sidewalk are covered in bricks. Pink-ish bricks!
Approaching the Quad, I decided to take the long way and go through the Schmitt Academic Center and the Library. On one of the shelves, I spotted a book, pink velvet cover, title I can’t quite pronounce.
Outside, on the Quad itself, leaves showered from the trees, as the breeze makes its way around. The yellow rejects of nature, mortal remains of the green above lay on the ground. I snap a picture.
Reaching the end of my walk, back to Belden-Racine Hall, I felt slightly better. Walking has its perks, I must say. It is not healing, by any means, but therapeutic. Like the colors, it is about trial and error. Not quite a match? Try again.
Reading Response to Question #2:
Being a citizen goes beyond just voting and paying taxes. Yes, those things are important, but they are just the surface level of citizenship. Being a citizen is understanding where you are from — in this case, Chicago. How did it come to be? What parts of the city are you most present at? What neighborhoods do you know best? Answering all these questions and noticing where you lack. What areas of the city do you need to explore? Where else can you contribute? Being a citizen is knowing that social capital is more than just relationships. It is a connection, broad and powerful. Being a citizen is walking down your street and noticing what you like about it and what needs to change. Being a citizen is defying convention, making your own path. Being a citizen is lowering bridges, kicking down barricades, and embracing difference. Being a citizen is connecting not just yourself to Chicago, but Chicago as a whole. (160 words)
