The Lost Art of Walking

“Walking is a great way to boost your creativity.” I remember hearing that for the first time at a writers’ conference fifteen years ago (yes, I’ve been attending them that long). A Stanford University study recently backed up the claim, which doesn’t surprise me, since I’ve used walks to untangle my brain and put it back together again for as long as I can remember. Now that I work part-time and have two whole weekdays free to write, I usually break up my writing session with a long meander through the wooded trails behind my house. Not only do I think about what I’m writing, but I plan the rest of the day, pray, meditate, think lofty thoughts, and just enjoy the nature around me. I’m always back home before I know it (probably because my mind’s all over the place), returning refreshed, hopeful, and usually with a new idea or two. I’ve been even struck by the occasional “Eureka!” moment.

Me thinking deep thoughts while hiking in the mountains.

But it’s got me thinking—what about walking just for walking’s sake? Actually, what really got me thinking about it was a very old article outline I dug up while clearing out my files. It was going to be called “The Lost Art of Walking,” and I pitched it to a few women’s magazines—particularly the ones that seemed to have an article literally every issue titled “Walk Off the Pounds!” I had intended to explore the idea of just stepping through the front door and walking one’s own neighborhood, something that people seemed to do a lot more in the olden days (well, at least in the movies).

Nowadays, if you’re caught roaming the neighborhood without a dog on a leash, a baby in a stroller, or at least wearing some kind of exercise outfit (and preferably carrying hand weights), you might get a few peeks through curtains or side-eye glances from people heading to or from their cars.

Don't mind me. Just taking a stroll.

Really, some people will assume there’s something wrong with you. I remember chatting a while back with someone in law enforcement who referred to “the walkers” as if they had obvious mental issues. Now it could be that he was talking about people who exhibited additional troubling behaviors, but I’m sure there are plenty others who right away just think, “Okay, now why is this person just walking around the block for no reason?”

This is why we get into our cars and drive to designated walking places, or at least try to appear that there’s a good reason for us to be out walking aimlessly.

But we miss out. It can be quite interesting and fun to see how different things look from on foot as opposed to through a car window. Recently I took an extended walk through the rather large office park where I work. I decided to make a big circle and literally got confused on my way back to my building because things appeared so…well, different.

“You mean to tell me that picket fence has always been there? Huh...”

You not only notice things, but you also feel more connected to your surroundings. Think about it: If more people strolled their neighborhoods, those faceless, nameless beings we call neighbors become human. And after a while, we would notice when there really is some strange, suspicious figure lurking around and not go calling the cops prematurely.

Klaus and I have been taking regular strolls in the 24 years we’ve been married. We’ve gotten used to the stares. Now, I’m sure some could stem from the fact that we’re an interracial couple, but I’d like to think a lot of it is just the surprise of seeing people out walking for no reason—no leash, no sweats, no stroller. Although now that we live in a neighborhood bordering a wooded trail, the stares have mostly changed to greetings from other walkers.

Wherever life takes me, I’m going to keep on walking as long as my legs can carry me (and then I'll roll). It’s good for my mind, soul, and creativity...and maybe one day those pounds will “walk off,” too!

My Sensory Experiment

I describe things for a living. As a by-product, my personal writing just oozes with sensory language and detail, right? Not exactly. At work I have to be succinct and economical, since creating TV descriptions for the blind often involves shoehorning stuff between lines of dialogue. In a way, that suits me just fine. Over-the-top, flowery prose isn’t really my style anyway.

But I’d like to change that. At least somewhat.

Recently I stumbled upon some really good descriptive and sensory-filled writing that left me wondering if my prose is perhaps a little *gulp* flat. After coming to terms with that painful realization, I decided to develop a plan of action. And since I have this thing about making lists and checking off boxes, I figured I’d do just that.

Checkbox #1: Get out and engage.

I knew that sitting at home and looking at life through a flat-screen TV wasn’t gonna cut it. There’s no smell-o-vision yet (although I do remember hearing rumblings about that as a kid), and you can’t reach out and touch that oak tree no matter how close the camera zooms in. If I wanted to increase my sensory vocabulary, I’d have to get out there and engage my senses.

Although my Germany trip is already two months behind me, I still recall the feeling I had running my fingers along stone walls built in the Middle Ages. I remember the rich, fluid song of Amsels (blackbirds) and the smell of coffee mingled with those German pastries I’ve been yearning for each and every morning since I’ve been back. It’s impressions like those that I need to build up in my mental library, ready to whip out at any time to enrich a future story.

Breakfast at my favorite German cafe.

Of course, there are things one can do at home, like paying attention to how it sounds when you wash your hands. I literally did that while drafting this blog and came up with “splash-gurgle-trickle-splash-gulp...” It may need some refinement, but you get the point.

Checkbox #2: Reflect.

On the old Bob Newhart Show (the one where he plays a psychologist in Chicago), Carol the receptionist dated a guy who considered himself a writer. He would carry a pen and pad with him everywhere he went in order to jot down things that inspired him (which he would later turn into awful poems).

Now, I’m usually not one to stop and chronicle my every little life experience. I’m not even much into photos. But there is something to be said for living consciously.

Even if I don’t record my observations right away, I should probably think more about what I’m seeing, hearing, touching, and smelling as I go about my daily life. I can always take time later to jot down those insights and perceptions that have lingered, the ones I just can’t get out of my head (like those German pastries).

Checkbox #3: Hone the senses.

Last week I came across a bayberry tree. How did I know it was a bayberry tree? It was on a nature trail that had signs identifying many of the trees and plants. The sign described the leaves as “fragrant when crushed,” so of course I had to pluck one when no one was looking. I crushed it, smelled it, and vaguely remembered chewing or sniffing a twig of some other tree a few years ago—either a birch or sweet gum. I was curious about how the two scents compared, so I made it a point to investigate that one day. Maybe I’ll do a blind sniff test and try to find the most precise words possible to describe the differences. Haven’t done it yet, but it’s on my list.

Checkbox #4: Write more poetry.

On a whim, I signed up for a four-week online poetry retreat that involved writing a poem a day, Monday through Friday, based on a short lesson, prompt, and examples. I initially regretted that impulse buy, because by the time the retreat started I’d been stressing out over some changes at my job and some issues related to my novel (which, by the way, is on its umpteenth revision) . But I’m so glad I didn’t bail out. Poetry is a great way to push the boundaries of descriptive language. Don’t want to brag, but I was amazed at what I was able to come up with on some days. That, along with some positive comments from fellow participants, gave me a much-needed boost of confidence in my journey to write more descriptively.

Anyway, that’s my initial plan of attack. I’m going to keep on finding ways to improve in this area, but honestly, I’ve come to realize that it’s often just a matter of—wait for it—stopping and smelling the roses.

Take a Trip and Rewire Your Brain

A restaurant in Froschhausen ("frog home"), a district bordering my husband's hometown of Seligenstadt, Germany. Overlooking a lake in the woods, the restaurant, "Am Harressee," offers ample outdoor seating and is accessible via bike trail.

Vacations are nice, for sure. They give us a chance to slam on the brakes and exhale when life starts to feel like a ride on a runaway train. But travel—meaningful travel—now, that changes you. I’m talking about being dropped in a foreign culture, left to navigate the ins and outs of daily life in an unfamiliar setting. Beyond the obvious positives (cultural awareness and understanding, love, peace, kumbaya, and all that) there’s one benefit that’s particularly helpful for writers. Meaningful travel literally rewires your brain and pumps up your creative juices.

This is something I’ve long suspected.

Mind you, I’m far from being a world traveler. I possess neither the time nor the bank account. But through my husband and my former career in the foreign service, I have a connection to Germany that allows me to immerse myself in that culture whenever we visit. From one day to the next I’m speaking German, eating schnitzels and Nierenspieβ (kidney kabobs—don’t judge me), running errands for my mother-in-law, getting caught up on the latest town news while relaxing at a café, etc. My time in Germany has, among other things, produced three short stories, an idea for a novel, and led to major decisions about my writing career. During my most recent stay, I began to wonder what it was, besides just having more free time, that made my Germany trips so productive.

All it took was a quick Google search.

Seligenstadt is a picturesque medieval town on the Main River (and is a tourist destination in its own right). This is the local pharmacy, taken during a previous trip.

I found out there’s some actual science going on. A number of studies in recent years have concluded that travel does indeed change the brain. According to Adam Galinsky, a Professor at Columbia University Business School, the critical factor is engaging in other cultures: “Foreign experiences increase both cognitive flexibility and depth and integrativeness of thought, the ability to make deep connections between disparate forms…”

According to studies by Galinsky and other researchers, here’s basically how it works:

1). Being dumped into an unfamiliar place requires you to figure things out and often think on your feet, thus stimulating your brain and causing it to form new connections. One study showed that retirees who travel experience 75% higher rates of mental stimulation and have an increased attention span and short term memory. As someone closing in on a certain age, I was very happy to read this.

2). Aside from all that problem solving and thinking, the simple act of taking in new sights, smells, and tastes helps create new neural pathways. It also develops your sense of reality and understanding of the world. Put it all together, and you get a boost in creativity.

Just a few days ago I returned from my two-week stay in Germany with a complete outline for my next novel, an idea for a poem inspired by something I saw on my layover in Copenhagen, a setting for a future novel, a brand new hairstyle that’s much easier and looks better than what I’ve been sporting recently, and last but not least, the idea for this blog entry. Who knows what I could have come up with after another week or so. Perhaps a solution to my cat’s weight problem, or a creative way to get more vegetables in my diet.

The nearby village of Babenhausen.

And what’s even more encouraging is that one can experience this phenomenon without flying off to far and exotic locales. In fact, Galinsky and his colleagues found that larger cultural distances often produced lower outcomes than more familiar cultures. They hypothesize that travelers might be so intimidated by the more exotic settings that they’re discouraged from fully immersing. So, a road trip to a culturally different part of your own state or region could possibly do the trick. Or if you’re in an area that offers more diversity, spending time at an ethnic café, restaurant, or shop may be enough to boost your brain.

One distinct memory I have from my trip was simply relaxing on my mother-in-law’s sunny terrace and really, for the first time, paying attention to all the unfamiliar bird calls and songs that “interrupted” my writing sessions. That led me to realize how little use I get out of my own back patio (which is not nearly as nice, but does face the woods). Once I figure out a way to deal with the mosquitoes, I’m going spend a lot more time out there. As for travel, I’ll have to stay stateside for the rest of the year, but I’ve already started a list of places to explore on the weekends. I’m thinking of going with a theme, like searching out independent cafés that are popular with locals, preferably in out-of-the-way towns I’ve never visited before. Because I have to tell you, one thing I miss terribly about Germany are the cafés. But that’s for another blog post.

Me relaxing and writing on my mother-in-law's terrace.

I’d love to hear if anyone else has experienced a creative boost from traveling!