Most weeks, by the time Friday rolls around, my head feels like a well used web browser, 42 tabs open and I don’t know which tab the music is coming from!
Between work stress, financial worries, family responsibilities, and the quiet pressure to keep everything from falling apart, my mind rarely gets a moment’s peace. Even when I sit still, my mind isn’t.
I never intended to create a ritual. There was no conscious decision to “practice mindfulness” or to adopt a routine. It began, quite simply, with a camera — the Xiaomi 15 Ultra I’d pre-ordered, complete with its photography kit. I only meant to capture a few moments. Nothing more.
But over time, those walks became something more.
A Private Reset Button
The world is noisy and my mind even more so, like a bustling marketplace. Deadlines. Bills. Expectations. Worries. Somewhere in that mess, I lost track of myself. I began to feel like someone who was just surviving — not living.
Coffee and a walk didn’t fix me. But it gave me a pause, a bubble of calm in a hurricane of turmoil. A moment to let the mental static settle. The warmth of the cup grounded me. The slow rhythm of walking reminded me that not everything needs to be rushed. Sometimes I’d sit on a bench and just watch and listen as the world spins. Some days I’d listen to music while on other days, I’d just walk in silence and let my thoughts breathe.
It became, in its own quiet way, a form of therapy — not the clinical kind, but the kind we make for ourselves, stitched together from simple acts and stolen time.
Why It Works (At Least for Me)
There’s something sacred about a routine that belongs entirely to you. This one asked nothing of me. It offered no promise of transformation. And yet, it gave back more than I anticipated — a little clarity, a little peace, a quiet sense of return. As a bonus it contributed to my health and weight loss!
The act of walking — forward motion with no deadline — helped me process things I didn’t even realise I was carrying. Small annoyances, old regrets, new worries. Once released into motion, they seemed less heavy.
The coffee? It wasn’t about the caffeine. It was about comfort. About the reassurance of a familiar ritual that whispered, “You’ve made it through another week. For now, just be here.”
The Quiet Gifts
Over time, I noticed things I hadn’t before. The way sunlight danced on the river. Decorative lights catching the breeze along the waterfront. Small details in the buildings and landscape I’d drive past a thousand times without seeing.
I began to look forward to these walks, not as a task but as a kind of escape. A moment of simple joy carved out of a noisy life. It became a lifeline on the hard weeks and a bonus on the good ones.
I wasn’t looking for a cure. I was just trying not to keep it all together. This helped. It still does.
A Note to You, Reader
I don’t know what your version of this looks like. Maybe it’s baking. Maybe it’s journaling, gardening, or sitting on your porch in the quiet.
Whatever it is, I hope you find it. Something simple. Something yours.
A small pause that helps you remember who you are — outside of your obligations.
Because sometimes, that’s all we really need:
A cup of coffee.
A quiet walk.
And permission to just be.
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