Anyone who knows me well, knows that I can often be found going for walks at night. I love to go walking, anytime. But nighttime is my favorite. One of my mottos is: when all else fails, just walk. Somehow the rhythmic stepping and breathing seems to put my jumbled up brain back in order and calms down my body. And there is just something about walking in the dark under the night sky that magnifies the effect. Maybe it is the coolness associated with the night air. Maybe it is the darkness itself blocking out so much visual stimulation. Maybe it is the stillness of nature. Maybe it is the vastness of looking into the heavens. I don't know for sure, but walks at night do more for my mental well-being than just about anything.
I learned to love the night from my grandpa. Most of my childhood vacations were spent visiting him at his homes in Southern Utah and Nevada and we were lucky to have him and my grandma come visit us usually several times a year. We had many evenings sitting out on the porch, eating watermelon, making whistles out of reeds, and Grandpa telling us family stories, making us laugh, and telling us about the stars. All those trips had us travelling all over Southwestern Utah, and I often had the privilege to ride with Grandma and Grandpa in his Buick or truck, with his cowboy hats and boots and Grandma's Pepsi, which she let me sneak sips from. The thing that left the deepest impression on me from all of those drives is the sky. I always remember looking at the horizon around the red plateaus and mountains, watching the sky and the clouds, witnessing afternoon thunderstorms form in the distance, seeing the colors change as the day turned into night.
...And that is why I always think of Grandpa when I walk at night. Grandpa had pure grit and he expected the same of us. He expected us to fight a good fight and always keep going. As I have travelled on my journey of mental illness, walking has become not only my go-to strategy to keep myself in touch with reality, it has become a solid motivator to keep moving forward, no matter how impossible it feels and fight my good fight. When I am in my most difficult places of mental illness I automatically turn to walking. At some of my worst moments, I would go for 3 or 4 walks every day. We put in lots of miles on the jogging stroller when Cody was young! When I can't muster anything else, the one thing I can do is take a breath, and step, step, step. Sometimes I have to actively focus on breathing. Other times it is distracting myself by focusing on the pressure and rhythm as each foot hits the ground and the release as it lifts off. Sometimes I focus on the sound and feel of the air in my hair and on my face and arms. Often I walk in silence. Other times I need music to ground me and give me words to encourage me. The best walks are when I can look up into the sky and see stars against the darkness. I don't want the walks to end as it is the one time I feel peaceful and life and my thoughts are less confusing. I feel gratitude for my Grandpa teaching me to look up at night.
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