I moved to the States by myself at 17, whenever I felt homesick or had a hard time adjusting, I skipped the train to take a walk home. On days when I felt burned out and couldn’t pick myself up, I turned my phone off and walked around Castle Island. When I graduated college and wasn’t satisfied with my career prospect, I spent hours walking along the Charles River. When I lost a loved one and couldn’t fly back to Saigon, I took the day off and drove to Walden Pond, walking and contemplating in silence.
Walking started out as a way for me to escape from the moment and create a space to unbottle my feelings. The silence of the walk took me away from the busy world and allowed my senses to emerge. I started to notice the sound, feel the air, and become more aware of my surroundings. Walking brought me back to the present and put things in perspective. In that moment of difficulty, I knew that I still have the air to breathe and the ground to stand on; they will always be there no matter how big or small my problems were.
Cal Newport defines solitude in his new book ‘Digital Minimalism’ as a subjective state in which you’re isolated from input from other minds. Solitude and spending time alone is one of the ways our brains could process and regular complex emotions. Reflecting on my experience, walking has been how I practice solitude and push through challenging times.
During the pandemic when walking has become one of the few activities one could partake, I find myself taking a walk every morning. Instead of seeking solitude only as a refuge, I’ve learned to incorporate it as a part of the morning ritual.
A dose of solitude has provided me with clarity and a much better headspace to power through each day. I find walking provides me the same benefits as meditation does. I am able to observe my thoughts come and go. Once I give myself the time and space to notice what is bothering me, it starts to behave. I’ve learned to treat distraction and anxiety as if they were human beings wanting to be recognized and heard. The more I try to avoid or suppress, the angrier they become; my best bet is to take the time to listen. I walk first thing in the morning so I could put the racing thoughts to bed. Walking gives me a chance to look inward and ground my intention. It sharpens my focus and allows me to filter through the things that actually matter.
Practicing solitude is even more crucial when putting it into a larger context. It’s getting harder and harder to make sense of the modern world. While technology has improved many aspects of our lives, it also brings about new challenges. The year 2020 also adds to that complexity by exposing many societal issues and decay in our governing structure. We are no longer solving linear problems but are forced to navigate through layers and systems of complexities. Perhaps practicing solitude could nudge us in a better direction. We can’t solve these problems simply just by diving in, we need to take a step back and we need to do it more often.
The planets rely on the sun’s gravity to maintain their orbit. A spacecraft borrows a planet’s gravity to accelerate and redirect its path. I think of walking and practicing solitude the same way I think of gravity. I walk to organize my thoughts, to be present with myself, to make sense of my feelings, to grieve, and to heal. Taking a walk has been the gravity that most times, helps me stay in my orbit and oftentimes, gives me the extra energy to perform a slingshot maneuver and travel with a new trajectory.