Moving from Movement

Movement has always been integral to my life. I love movement. Hiking, biking and running through the woods. Constantly in motion. Rapidly traversing the terrain. My focus was on obstacle avoidance and dynamism. How much faster can I go? How quickly can I cover a given distance?

Recently, it occurred to me that there are other fulfilling ways to spend time outside. The rest of my life is often fast paced, and I have started to regard my time in nature as an antidote. A chance to recover and approach the land in a different way. Calling me to slow down so that I can experience all that it has to offer me. All of the small things that I never notice when I am moving too quickly.

Grassy clearings are great spots to sit and watch the forest.

Passing through the forest at a rapid pace, the noise and disturbance created are almost certain to rid the area of any wildlife. Even following the edge of a field lush with native grasses and ample bird habitat, on my bike, I cannot hear a chirp. Hiking up a steep ridge line, breathless, with stones sliding under my feet, yet the squirrels have run from the side of the path.

When I slow or stop my movement entirely, I become a part of my surroundings. Instead of swiftly running through them. Magical moments can arise simply sitting. It is as though I have travelled in time. To a period when I had a seamless connection with the natural world. 

And if I remain still in the forest, life resumes around me. The animals’ apprehension dissipates quickly, and mere minutes after I halt my movement, the activity commences again. The birds begin to chirp again. A chipmunk scampers across the leaves. It provides me with an opportunity to experience what the woods are like “without me”. Or rather without me loudly moving through them. 

The Japanese have a practice they call shinrin-yoku, which literally translates to “forest bath”. In addition to the pleasure derived from observing nature, they ascribe health benefits to the activity. In my experience, that is a valid claim. The calm that ensues is born from the tranquility of the woods around me.

The beauty is unmatched. I notice the details and the nuances previously ignored. Stillness is equally challenging and rewarding. Contrary to the bright screens and the constantly shifting images that populate the modern world, stillness has become an abnormality. But therein lies value. A chance to find the peace and splendor that comes from doing nothing. All I have to do is stop and observe.

I will always love movement, but I’ve discovered the wonders of stillness. And they are readily accessible. Go outside. Stop moving. And breathe in nature.