Last week in The Nervous System Isn’t the Enemy: It’s Your Oldest Ally, I shared what it means to thank your body — not for performing, but for protecting. I explored how real-time check-ins can shift us from reaction to relationship, even in moments of overwhelm. That practice opened a doorway — not just to presence, but to appreciation. And this week, I’m walking through that doorway. Literally.

And yet, let me pause here.

Because I know that walking may not be accessible or comfortable for everyone. For some, physical limitations, pain, or other circumstances make walking less possible — or not possible at all. The practice I’m sharing here isn’t about walking itself. It’s about movement as a way to return to your body. That might look like gentle stretching in a chair, rocking side to side, rolling your shoulders, or even imagining yourself moving through a favorite place. Whatever form it takes, the invitation is the same: to shift from urgency to awareness, and from outside demands back into your own embodied experience.

For me, that’s often a walk.

Some days, my mind feels like a pinball machine — bouncing from task to task, thought to thought, everything urgent, nothing grounded. And when that happens, I’ve learned to reach for a simple, reliable practice: I go for a walk.

Not to get my steps in.

Not to “be productive.”

But to come back to myself.

Over the past few weeks — including a busy, beautiful international trip to Singapore and Bali — I’ve been reminded of just how powerful walking can be. In airports, along city sidewalks, and through quiet paths surrounded by rice paddies, I found myself walking not to escape, but to return. These walks weren’t about sightseeing or checking off miles — they were a way of anchoring. A way to metabolize the swirl of thoughts, emotions, and sensory input. A way to remember that I’m here.

This blog is a reflection on that shift — from urgency to awareness — and what it means to return to the body through presence, not pressure.

🌿 Why Walking?

Walking is one of the most accessible somatic practices we have. It doesn’t require special equipment, a quiet room, or advanced training. It meets us where we are. Our ancestors walked. Our caregivers walked. We walk every day — often without noticing it. But when we walk with awareness, everything changes. We shift from moving through the world unconsciously to moving with the world. With our senses. With our breath. With our bodies.

Years ago, I was a runner. I loved the rhythm, the release, the sense of achievement. But over time, my body began resisting that intensity. Chronic back pain, energy fluctuations, and the changing landscape of midlife asked me to slow down. So I did. I started walking instead — and in that shift, I found something I hadn’t realized I was missing: space. Space to notice. Space to feel. Space to simply be.

Neuroscientifically, walking engages the parasympathetic nervous system — especially when paired with bilateral stimulation (the rhythm of left-right steps), visual input (scanning the environment), and sound (like birdsong or the rustling of leaves). These elements help bring the body out of “fight or flight” and into a more regulated state. It’s no wonder walking is such a powerful tool for emotional processing, mental clarity, and embodied healing.

🌱 My Trail, My Teacher

Near my home in San Diego, there are several walking trails I return to again and again. Each one is familiar, but never quite the same. There’s a bend in the path where the light filters through tall trees in a way that still catches me off guard. There’s a spot where I often hear a hawk overhead. And when the jacaranda trees bloom, their bright purple flowers create a kind of magic that feels like a blessing.

But it’s the scent that stops me in my tracks — especially when the star jasmine are in bloom. Sweet, floral, and nostalgic, the smell floats through the air and pulls me out of my head and into my senses. It reminds me that I have a body. That I am here. That I am safe.

The first few minutes of my walk are usually filled with mind chatter — my to-do list, an unresolved email, a parenting moment I’m still replaying. But if I let myself keep walking, something starts to shift. I begin to notice.

I hear the birds. I smell the jasmine. I feel my feet on the ground. The urgency softens. My breath deepens. I’m not just walking anymore — I’m arriving.

🔄 Walking After Stress: Completing the Cycle

In their book Burnout (affiliate link), Emily and Amelia Nagoski write that stress is a biological cycle. Just because the stressor ends — the meeting is over, the email is sent, the argument resolves — doesn’t mean your body knows that. To fully move through a stress response, we need to complete the cycle. And one of the most effective ways to do that? Physical movement.

When I’m coming off a tough conversation, a flood of emails, or a long training session, I can feel the buzz of unprocessed energy in my body. Sometimes it’s subtle — a clenched jaw, tight shoulders. Other times it’s louder — racing thoughts, tension in my chest, restlessness.

That’s when I walk. Not as punishment. Not to distract. But to help my body metabolize the experience I just lived through.

Sometimes I walk fast. Sometimes I meander slowly. The pace doesn’t matter as much as the intention: to move the stress through. And almost every time, I return home feeling more like myself.

🎧 Peloton, Music, and the Ritual of Choice

While I love the solitude of nature walks, I’ve also found grounding in guided formats — especially Peloton outdoor walks (if you know me, you know I’m a Peloton girl!). These walks become meditations in motion. Instructors gently encourage breath awareness, somatic cues, and affirmations like “You don’t have to outrun anything today. You’re allowed to arrive.”

Even choosing the class is part of my ritual. I scroll and ask: What do I need right now? Energy? Encouragement? Quiet?

If Peloton isn’t accessible to you, free apps like Insight Timer, or YouTube channels like The Honest Guys, offer beautiful, guided walks. You can even record your own voice offering reminders like: Notice your breath. Feel your feet. You’re safe.

I also switch between walking in silence, walking with music, and walking with guidance. There’s no one right way. And mixing it up — tuning into what your body needs that day — can be a powerful form of self-trust.

Some days, I walk with a nostalgic playlist (90s rock forever). Other days, I need ambient instrumental to calm my nervous system. Singing along becomes its own kind of regulation — breath, voice, memory, and rhythm all working together. Even humming counts.

Sometimes peace arrives through birdsong and jasmine. Sometimes it arrives through Pearl Jam and bass lines.

🌀 Awareness vs. Urgency

So what shifts when I walk with awareness, not urgency?

Everything.

• My breath slows.
• My inner dialogue softens.
• My sense of agency returns.
• My vision expands — literally and figuratively.

Urgency is rooted in scarcity: not enough time, not enough space, not enough of me.
Awareness says: I am here. I am breathing. This moment is enough.

There’s a profound difference between walking to escape a feeling and walking to be with it. The first feels like disconnection. The second feels like homecoming.

🌍 The Body Remembers — and So Does the Land

There’s something sacred about walking the same trail over and over again. You begin to witness not just the seasons changing — but yourself. I’ve walked these trails in grief, joy, anger, numbness. I’ve cried beneath eucalyptus trees. I’ve stopped to smell rosemary. I’ve laughed out loud listening to podcasts.

Peter Levine reminds us that trauma lives in the body — but so does healing. And healing doesn’t always need language. Sometimes rhythm, presence, and movement are enough to begin the unwinding.

The land holds memory too. And when we walk it with intention, it meets us. Over and over again.

🏃 A Practice to Try: Walking with Intention

If walking with awareness is new to you, start small. You don’t need a scenic trail or 60 minutes. All you need is a willingness to tune in.

Try this:

• Before you begin, pause. Place a hand on your heart. Breathe. Ask: How am I arriving today?
• As you walk, let your senses lead. What do you hear, see, smell?
• Add music or a guided prompt if that supports you.
• Halfway through, check in: Has anything shifted?
• When you finish, pause again. Thank your body — not for performing, but for showing up.

📆 The Weekly Flow

Here’s what this week looks like in the #MyPeacein50 rhythm:

• Monday → This blog goes live
• Tuesday–Thursday → I’ll share prompts, quotes, and practices on Instagram, LinkedIn, and Facebook
• Friday → I’ll post a short video reflecting on how the practice actually went (the messy, human version)

You’re invited to join in any way that feels right:

• Quietly follow
• Share using #MyPeacein50
• Try one walk — even just around the block
• Or download the free Calm Calendar for extra support

🌟 My Practice This Week: One Breath, One Step

This week, I’m walking not to get somewhere, but to return. Here’s what I’m committing to:

• A short walk after emotional or screen-heavy moments
• One longer walk with music or a Peloton class (my body gets to decide)
• A post-it near my desk: “You’re allowed to walk away — and come back home to yourself”
• Pausing before each walk to check in: What am I carrying? What can I lay down?

No pressure. No perfection. Just presence. One step, one breath, one moment at a time.

And next week, we’ll explore what happens when peace feels impossible — when we’re hijacked by memories, patterns, or pain. The blog is called Why Triggers Aren’t Weaknesses, But Wisdom. I hope you’ll walk with me there too.

With care,
Lisa

💛 What I’m Loving This Week
• Sound: The soft coo of doves on my morning walks — grounding and rhythmic, like a quiet heartbeat from the earth itself.

• Practice: Walking after Zoom calls, not to “get steps in,” but to come back to myself. I’m letting my senses lead — sight, scent, sound, breath.
• Tool: Post-it notes by my desk that say, “You’re allowed to walk away — and come back home to yourself.” A small but mighty nudge toward movement and self-trust.
• Song: “Simply the Best” by Tina Turner. Bold, joyful, and full of soul — this one gets me walking taller and smiling bigger. It’s pure embodied confidence.