In step with nature
Yes, I walk every morning at 7 a.m. You could call me a morning person. I walk every day, at least three times a day, but it’s the morning walk that matters most. People often find it confusing that, even in the cold and dark of winter, before the sun has risen, I still go out. I try to explain it’s part of my routine, something I’ve always done for years. They nod, reluctantly accepting that explanation.
But the truth is deeper than that. Much deeper.
When I walk, I go somewhere else. My body moves through the park, but my spirit resides somewhere far beyond—or perhaps it is deeply embedded, as if I dissolve into the world around me. When I walk, I find myself at one with the trees, the birds, the stars. I become my purest self, an expression of nature itself. I am not merely walking in the park; I am part of the park. The roots of the trees beneath my feet are not separate from me. When I reach out to touch them, I feel their being, their pulse, and I breathe with them, connected by the unseen threads of life that bind us all.
Each morning, I circle back to the same tree and greet it as an old friend. “Hello. How were you yesterday?” I ask, not out loud, but with my being. The birds—partners in this daily ritual—flutter above, and I greet them too. They, like me, are creatures of habit, rising early to meet the day. As the first light creeps over the horizon, I pause to welcome the sun. It, too, seems to greet me, warming the chill of the winter morning and reminding me that we are all part of the same rhythm.
Tree • Utrecht, Netherlands
