One Foot in Front of the Other
Archived from Mar 30, 2023:
Last week’s writing got away from me, a bit. The intention of these isn’t to be upsetting or a huge bummer, but that is, regrettably, a habit of mine. One of the troubles of taking a genuine care and interest in one social issue is that once you start pulling the thread, you realise it leads to a large, tangled web of other issues. Healthcare, education, food access, racism, nationalism; a meaningful look at one will reveal how intimately tied they all are. I am sure I will find no shortage of time to talk about them at great length.
Last week, I mentioned in passing the recent wave of conspiracy theories surrounding the notion of 15 minute cities. While that may serve as the backdrop for this meandering series of thoughts, I don’t want these conspiracies to be the focus. In short, there is a small but loud minority of people who have started imagining their own unhinged ideas of how they might punish others, and assuming those same shackles of control will be applied to them through the boogeyman of a walkable neighbourhood. I don’t mean to be dismissive of any genuine concerns, but after so many years of keeping up with QAnon and the likes, my patience is, perhaps, a bit thinner than it was.
I love walking. I am a fast walker, thanks to my dad, and regularly walk well over 100 km a month. If somewhere is within an hour walk, I will likely arrive there on my own two feet. I am also going to avoid going down the rabbit hole of data and location tracking, and I am saying this to myself as much as you. There are a lot of things I like about walking: I like listening to podcasts, smiling at dogs, squinting into the sun and rain, exerting energy, stopping to take pictures of flowers and bugs and bees. I like walking past the park to see untouched snow and meander through, drawing hearts with my footsteps and perhaps most importantly, I love all the places I stop along the way. In one direction, up the hill, I have a long stretch of small local shops, cafes and a neighbourhood pub. The base of the hill, a neighbourhood full of friends and my favourite grocery store. My deep, unbridled love for food and sharing it will have to be expressed another time, but the grocery store and bakery in question have become indicative of what I love so much about where I live and where I walk, namely: community.
As easy as it is to be cynical about the state of the world, it’s amazing what paying attention to the people in your community can give you in return. While that does manifest as material things sometimes, what I really mean is a sense of community, a sense of place and belonging permeating your life in many of the places you find yourself. Not only does this sense become stronger in your own community, but it can also become a skill you carry with yourself to new places. In this vein, one of the most flattering things anyone has ever said to me, about me, was actually an anecdote. She one day told me that she had “channeled” me, earlier in the day. I asked for clarification and she told me about being in line at a busy cafe and despite being in a rush, taking a deep breath and asking the overwhelmed barista how they were before placing her order. I never, until that moment, assumed anyone would associate me to asking how someone is, but I guess it makes sense. I do try to make a point to ask any service worker how they are, because it may have been hours since anyone acknowledged them for anything other than the service they’re performing. When I take a step back and look at my habits and my community, I see how one helps create the other.
I will say, I have an upper hand in establishing these relationships, having worked in the service industry for a very long time myself. But, if I’m being honest, it’s not just a sense of solidarity, but another way my service brain works. It’s easy for me to remember my barista telling me about ski trip they were taking time off for, for the computer someone is building, for the gift exchange with a friend, and it is even easier to follow up on them because, perhaps selfishly, it feels good to make others feel good. And in turn, in my role as a service industry worker, I know how good it feels when someone engages with me as a person who loves their job and the community they work in.
Incidentally, this is a job I have kept despite having a full time, salaried job, that has no material ties or benefits to my community. Perhaps, more meaningfully, this is a job I walk to. Podcast in, smiling at dogs and the sun and sometimes strangers; performing a ritual for myself and for my community, in my own small way. To put one step in front of the other is to slowly build an intention, a spell, a conjuring of something that can feel so far away on lonely days. My feet leave immaterial foundations as I go, laden with names, heavy and strong with stories. What a blessing, and what a joy, to walk through this complicated, beautiful world.
