On going out for a walk

I tend to overthink when I sit for too long in my apartment. My ideas seem to be crashing against the four walls of my living room and I cannot stand that. When that happens, I like to take my thoughts out for a walk.

The new fresh air clears my lungs, my blood, my brain. Oxygen is running through my feet and my legs now, my heart is pumping up blood faster, and ideas begin to skate. What am I thiking about? How come I feel each slide is in synch with my mind? Is it the fact that there's rhythm in each phrase, each idea that crosses my head?

My preferred walking places are parks and squares where I can see the same things twice or thrice, maybe plenty of times. Oh, there's the swings over there again. What is it about the repetition of places? Are the familiar landscapes what make you feel safe and get to take at least one worry out of your head? I now get the chance to look at my brains from different perspectives, quietly and with the energy to focus on them.

Oxygen in my neurons allows me to see each strong statement I used to ruminate on has now become a hypothesis, just a possibility. Like when you see things in the distance and you're not sure if that's a dog or a child, if that's your friend or a complete stranger. Do I still feel strongly about that thought? Maybe it was just an idea. Who knows. Does this happen to everybody? Who cares.

Every step, even if I trip, is okay. You are allowed to make mistakes. That's why I enjoy going out for a walk on a rainy day. You may slip. You just take another step forward and go on striding. You are allowed to make mistakes. But I wonder why I don't allow myself to make mistakes on sunny days. Is it that a perfect day requires a perfect person? Yet there are perfect rainy days with people who slip on the sidewalk and that doesn't make them imperfect, does it? I wonder why I need to remind myself that I am allowed to make mistakes.

I do not stroll, even on sunny days, and I wonder why. Whenever I try to do that, I feel my feet are out of synch with my thoughts. They always go fast. Will I ever be able to slow down my thinking?

I rarely wander. Walking is my thinking exercise, so if I wander it's only for resting my thoughts. How about wandering around the streets of La Plata? Not wondering where we might wander.

As my mind is in motion, so is my body. My thinking exercise is like going out for a walk. It has a beginning, and an end. But what happens in the middle? I guess the in between is what you do with this whole process. No one knows. What's the destination? The conclusion, maybe. Or maybe there's no destination, you just come back home with your hands full. And what did you get from the walk? A reflective essay.