One evening years ago while on a camping trip, my boyfriend noticed a young boy running toward their side of the campsite breathless and with urgency. Gazing toward the sun setting, wide-eyed at the glowing orange ball descending into the horizon, he held up a hand and waved from his elbow exclaiming, “Bye sun, thank you!” I’ve had him tell me this story a few times and will probably ask to hear it a few more. It perfectly holds the sentiment that I wish all people slowed to feel. An urgency to find gratitude, to express it loudly and proudly for the world to hear.

I have been working toward embracing more stillness in my life. After a few conversations with friends, wellness professionals and myself, it’s taken me some time to come around to the fact that how I operate in the word, though energy-full is leaving my body energy depleted. The tough part of acknowledging this truth for me is that I don’t feel drained, burnt-out or run into the ground but there have been some physiological signs that have given me pause to the idea of giving myself more pause.

It’s starting real simple: turn off the noise while on a walk. Resistant at first to the idea that I couldn’t catch up with the world or juicy goss’ while I strolled in the evenings meant not fulfilling something I have come to love about a shelter in place routine, having more time to listen and tune in to the world around me, finally get caught up on world affairs, relationship advice, manifestation chats, and celebrity interviews. Though this seems a form of self-care on the surface, this has been another sneaky way of doing things, staying busy, tuning in externally instead of internally. I am one weekend in to this experiment, having gone a solid 3 days of walking to the sounds of my thoughts, nature, emergency vehicles, and muffled maskers’ conversations around me. I genuinely do want to find a way to keep up with the news and podcasts that I do so much enjoy, but this experiment has afforded me more space.

I felt different this weekend as a result. Not sure if ‘silent walking’ is the culprit, but it sure as hell couldn’t hurt. I unwinded from the week with a Friday long walk at sunset and when it ended I was surprised that I could have kept thinking and staying with these little leads of thoughts in my head. Where were these thoughts going on walks before? Did I cut them off before they were fully realized? Did I think of them at all? Did they come knocking and I chose not to answer the door because omgdaxshepardisinterviewingjustintimberlake?! The act of walking silently felt like meditation — a noticing and acknowledging of a series of thoughts without dwelling (or maybe dwelling) on them. Space to think, feel, tear-up. I didn’t miss the needing to pause for a photo, rewind a quote I liked, fast-forward over the ads. Even in something so ‘relaxing’, I found myself having to engage in technology in too consistent of a way for being unplugged time.

I had more space for feeling. My favorite yoga teacher hosted a Zoom Yoga Nidra class on Saturday and it could not have been more timely. A full 75 minutes of space and permission to put my body in a restful state without fully napping. Present, calm, still but aware (maybe too aware of the entrances of both my roommates clomping around, slamming doors and setting down jingly keys). The class ended and my mind told me to get busy — it was still daylight after all. My body, however, wanted to relish in this calm. I took a hot slow shower, made a cup of tea, sat on the sofa in my room and watched the sunset and its trail of soft purples, pinks and oranges. Bye sun, thank you.

In just the right amount of time, I was ready to get moving again to join my boyfriend who had grabbed all the ingredients for a beautiful, delicious, nourishing meal. I walked in and acknowledged my zen state with “I’m struggling in a real way right now” and he gave full permission and encouragement to stay in my state by telling me “There is no struggle. You have nowhere else to be. You’re staying here tonight.” We cooked, danced, laughed, played music and got ice cream delivered. My soul, heart and belly full, it was an evening I never wanted to lose sight of. Feeling so aware, present, grateful. My head gets in the way when my heart doesn’t have the time and space to feel.

Quiet walks allow space for the feel. From that space I can expand, listen, tune-in and appreciate. Noise, no matter how welcome, is still noise. Podcasts where I learn and grow are still doing, Stillness can’t find space when the mind is still doing. There’s space for a stranger to ask if I’ve seen his dog, for the sound of leaves crunching underfoot, for the breeze to wrap wisps of hair around my ears where headphones had previously occupied, free from the pause, fast-forward, rewind controls pulling me out of the “press play”.

So bye, sun. Thank you!