I found something in the forest that I once lost.

It was hanging on spider silk and dripping with the sun.

It was tucked into the palm of a young leaf.

It was a secret shared between birds that somehow, I understood perfectly. Urgently.

There were times when I used to play small and shrink in order to make sure people in my life felt ok. Walking shifted that. On one windy, cold, icy morning, I became curious. Why do I do this? How is this behavior helping/supporting me?

I hear a lot of discussion about the quest for balance. I don’t think there is a place called balance. Life is in constant flux, so balance can only be temporary; therefore, seeking it as a desired end state is impossible. I think what I seek is not balance, but harmony.

One quiet and cold early November morning 12 years ago, I woke up slowly. I made spicy chai tea, wiped a skin of frost from the window, and realized that an essential component of who I was as a kid was no longer a part of who I was as an adult. I was happy, but I wasn’t whole.

November is the month that I started my walking practice. November 3rd to be exact. My dad’s birthday. I always try to take a very special walk on that day and ask my dad for advice. He always shows up.