On Walking

There’s a particular quality to ideas that arrive while walking. They come unbidden, fully formed, as though they’d been waiting for you to stop sitting still.
Nietzsche said it: “All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.” Kierkegaard walked the streets of Copenhagen for hours. Wordsworth logged an estimated 180,000 miles on foot. These are not coincidences.
The rhythm of walking does something that sitting cannot. It loosens the grip of the analytical mind and lets the associative mind wander. Step, step, step — and suddenly the solution to a problem you hadn’t been thinking about appears.
I keep a small notebook in my coat pocket. Not a phone — a notebook. The act of writing by hand forces a kind of compression. You can’t transcribe a thought while walking; you can only capture its essence. This is, I think, a feature rather than a limitation.
Solvitur ambulando…
The best walks have no destination. The moment you’re walking to somewhere, you’ve introduced urgency, and urgency is the enemy of wandering thought. Walk around. Walk through. Walk for the sake of walking.