I keep trying to walk. You need to walk. Everyone I’ve ever respected has been a walker. My wife is a Walker. I used to walk – not professionally, but I was publically lauded for my walking nonetheless – but now I don’t walk much.
I walked this week. But I always make the mistake of bringing the still camera and then I’m walking and stopping and walking and crouching and walking and peeking over people’s fences.
My friend George walks an hour every day. Not for exercise. For meditation. George is an admired and respected artist.
I’ve never heard anyone say – apart from myself – I’ve never heard anyone say:
“This daily walking routine is messing up my life.”
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I am walking home right now — because I am fuck to death of his muh fukkin job.
Good for you!