Every Morning

Come along on a morning walk that delivered the unexpected

Blue and clear, the morning was. Crystal, almost. Still chilly, however, for the first full day of spring. But yesterday’s wind had dropped to a breeze, the kind March is known for. And so, I stepped out.

Not that a walk like this was unusual. But I’ve come to welcome them more when the weather is reasonably pleasant. Some say that the tenor of the weather should not dictate how to proceed. Some would believe you should fight through whatever Mother Nature gives you, building character and accepting, even celebrating that all climates have merits, their particular beauty. I read recently about a man in Western Wales who took his walk in a remote stretch of seacoast every day no matter how bad the weather—even heavy gales with sideways rain couldn’t stop him. I admire that. Might do that on occasion. But not now. Not on this day.

What this day did offer, however, was another kind of atmospheric condition, an ethereal one, one of divine magic deep inside. An awakening?

First, let me tell you what it was not.

It was not a spiritual epiphany or a New Age revelation, some alternative spiritual vision. I contend that those kinds of moments are labeled as such because we somehow need to label them to understand them. What I experienced on my walk was not something otherworldly, but something profoundly of this world, profoundly human. Thing is, I’m not sure how to explain it as it truly was.

So, I propose this idea . . . to take you along with me.

While on the walk, I recorded my thoughts as they happened, believing that I had to understand them better. I wanted to remember exactly my train of thought as I was experiencing this, thinking that the best way to comprehend it and to share it would be to present the exact in-the-moment commentary I had with myself, showing more clearly why this morning walk delivered something different than others, something that I would wish to experience every morning if I could.

Here are my words, just as I spoke them. No edits.

What do you think came over me?

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I’m thinking about that moment in the morning when you truly are with, ah, everything else. I love the sound of the crows in the morning around here. And the crackling of the woodpeckers. They are all over. You connect somehow out here. That is happening right now . . . but it’s different somehow. And it’s not New Agey and it’s not metaphysical, it’s just . . . just human. And it makes me think about . . . many things . . . ah . . . the very moment, mostly. This very moment. But I also think about how fortunate I am, how lucky I am. How the DNA just played out right for me . . . as it may not have played out so right for other members of my family . . .alcoholic grandfather, alcoholic sister. Ah, but, in the end . . . somehow . . . the divine, whatever that is . . . laid its hands on me. And . . . I don’t know what this sounds like . . . if it sounds spiritual, or whatever . . . I don’t know. But what I do know is that . . . I’m grateful. There’s gratitude. We use that word in a lot of ways sort of flippantly now. You should have gratitude; you should show grace. But I don’t want it to get lost in the noise. It seems essentially . . . human. Essentially us. And essentially . . . sends us down a path, the road, the journey . . . that gets us to an understanding, an authenticity. I’m really not sure what I’m saying . . . really. But I know it when I feel it. I know when it’s in front of me. I know when my heart flutters, I know it. So, I am . . . ah . . . a fortunate man in so many ways. A lucky man . . . in so many ways. I wish . . . the same for anyone. Do I sound like a preacher? Some leader in a New Age workshop. I hope not. I don’t think so. Maybe it’s the cult of humanity, the cult of everyone, the cult of living. A simple humanness. There’s this great quote from Thoreau . . . and I’m not going to remember it exactly . . . but it’s something about . . . moving confidently in your life, your day . . . in the direction of dreams, to live the life you imagine . . . then you will meet with a success unexpected. . . in common hours. And, of course, success to Thoreau had nothing to do with status or money . . . it was about being in the world, wholly. Maybe that is a little of what’s going here this morning. Forgive me. This is sort of a daydream. It’s a kind of inner validation. Someone called it discovering the . . . ah, what was it . . . the garden inside. I think that was the phrase. Anyway . . . I felt like I wanted to share this. Maybe it’s oversharing, you know. Maybe it’s just rambling. But it was there and had come to me in a strong . . . clear wave. So, I’ll try to find it again. Try to bring it back.

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After I transcribed this conversation with myself, in a kind of retrospective, I wondered if it is not unlike experiences you may have had on a morning walk, a long hike alone. And it made me think about Thoreau again, and that simple line from Walden:

An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.

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David W, Berner is the author of several books of award-winning fiction and memoir. This summer his book Daylight Saving Time: The Power of Growing Older will be released from Collective Ink Books. It is now available for pre-order.