I walk slower when I don’t listen to my iPod. Perhaps its the weather right now, a sort of glorious not-quite-fall, when the air is just barely starting to bite but it’s enough of an excuse that I can wear a jacket. Maybe it’s the sense of anticipation. Sure, i don’t really like winter, but the prelude to it always seems more full of energy and vitality than any other season. Maybe my sap starts moving in sympathy with the trees. Maybe it’s the keep tension of watching for the colors to turn, leaf by leaf. Maybe there’s something else just at the edges of my perception – a change of light or air quality – that fizzles consistently along my nerve endings, sparking. Something about it just feels so good, but dynamically good, unlike the sleepy pleasantness of a hot or humid summer. The shortening of the days and increasing darkness seem to give rise to more shadowy curiosities than any real darkness or unhappiness.
Whatever the reason, even if simply that the lack of noise-cancelling forced me to pay closer attention to my surroundings, I took my time over the short distance I walked to work this morning. I breathed a little deeper. I want to spill the moment wide until it laps in waves at the consciousness of everyone around me. I can barely hold on to it in memory, let alone package it for someone else’s digestion and reaction, but I still try. After all, don’t we all feel this, to a greater or lesser extent?