The Silent Walk

A path at Parc Angrignon, Montreal. Watercolor, 6" x 9".

Attention -- our loss of it, our lack of it -- seems to be on many people's minds these days. From Ezra Klein to close friends of my own, it seems that more of us are acknowledging that sustaining the quality of awareness and focus we call attention has become a significant problem, not just for young people who've grown up tethered to their devices and the internet, but for most of us.

In today's New York Times, there's an article titled "The Beauty of a Silent Walk." I go for lots of silent walks and always have, almost daily...you know, just ordinary walks in my neighborhood, walks in nature, walks to and from the metro, walks in the inner city. I don't wear headphones and I don't take out my phone, I just...walk. Look around at the plants, the trees, the people, the dogs and cats, the buildings going up -- or, if I'm in a more natural setting, at the natural world, the water, the sky. There are smells and sounds to notice too. I see a lot, I think thoughts, and I also don't think. I just walk and enjoy being alone and quiet with myself. So I was sort of incredulous, even though I shouldn't have been, by what the article said. Here's the beginning, with the line breaks eliminated by me:

In a TikTok video that has now amassed nearly half a million views, the influencer Mady Maio describes taking a walk. But not just any walk: a silent one. For her, the 30-minute stroll was revelatory. No podcasts, no music. Just “me, myself and I.” She was resistant at first. (It was her boyfriend’s idea.) “My anxiety could never,” she said in the video.

Ms. Maio described the first two minutes as mental “mayhem” that eventually gave way to a “flow state.” Her brain fog lifted. Ideas started popping into her head because she was “giving them space to enter.” The silent walk is TikTok’s latest wellness obsession, a blend of meditation and exercise that aims to improve mental health.

 

The scenes I observe daily in the metro should have tipped me off that things had gotten this extreme - I'm often the only person in the car without headphones on, or a phone in their lap; the only person who's looking around and observing my fellow human beings, apart from people traveling in groups of talkative friends. Yes, sure, sometimes I watch or listen to something, check my mail or read, but generally, I don't. I didn't realize that, for many young people, anxiety about silence and being alone with oneself extends even to the idea of taking an ordinary walk. I knew that many weren't doing it -- so many people on the streets are either absorbed in their headphones, or talking on their phones -- but I didn't realize how much was due not to habit, but to anxiety. So rather than scoff or dismiss what's being described here, I'm happy that some are noticing what's going on, and trying to do something about it. The author of the article goes on to talk about the longtime spiritual practice of silent walking meditation (which, Ms Maio's self-described "flow state" aside, is rather some distance from a regular walk) and then speaks about the research that shows how good walking can be for you and your mental health. Reading this left me feeling sad, a bit stunned, and wondering what, if anything, I could do about it.

 

Many, if not most, of my friends of a similar age still enjoy long quiet walks, swims, car drives or commutes, or time spent cooking, knitting, playing an instrument, or doing other non-passive activities that allow their thoughts to roam freely. We grew up before our devices took over so much of our lives and our mental space, so we know what it's like to be quiet, without music or podcasts or even a tv or computer in the background.  But many of us, too, have left that quiet behind, and with it, our true solitude. We know what it's like not to scroll endlessly, not to be addicted to social media, to write real letters or blog posts, but...we've joined in, and our minds have been shaped and changed by it. Is it any wonder? Not only have the devices practically become part of our bodies and indispensible to our functioning, the world they bring to us has become so much more fraught, so much emotionally noisier and more anxiety-producing, and delivered in smaller and smaller bits, that of course many of us can't concentrate on anything longer than a few minutes, and of course we seek ways to escape not only the inputs, but the resulting chaos and distress in our own minds.

 

I sense that perhaps I've been more stubborn and, as a result, less affected by these trends than some, while still embracing the technologies available to us. Most of what I've read or heard about attention has been written or produced by much younger people, but I think those of us who are older may also have a good deal to say, not only about ourselves but about our children, students, and younger friends. Rather than being critical, I'd like to explore this subject further in a non-judgemental way and talk with other people, of all ages, about how they see it, and then explore some ways to get our attention back.

 

My next post is going to be about reading books, an area where many people say they've found their ability to focus quite changed. If you'd like to share your own experience or converse with me about it, please leave a note in the comments or send me a message at cassandra dot pages at mailbox dot org, and let's talk.

 

 

 

Comments

[Duchesse]

I'm of two minds about social media. Mostly, I look at Instagram. I appreciate the enormous buffet of cultural exposures there, from archival performances to "Letters Live". When a friend suggested that platform to me, I was reluctant, but she described it as a way to see artists' work, and that's been true. (The material I look at does not stoke anxiety; rather, it stokes consumption.) I take regular, extended leaves, to attempt to control the intrusion factor and nonstop encouragement to buy 'stuff'. Too easy to lose ones' self and one's actual, living connection to all life, what Charles Taylor identifies as one of the Malaises of Modernity.