Take A Walk

Does it ever happen to you that everything converges? You're thinking of painting your living room red and think that's a unique idea, then you see an interview with your favorite author, and her living room is red. You go to a Tupperware party and the hostess (who is a friend of a friend and you've never before set foot in her house), she has a red living room. Then you see a red living room on the cover of Martha Stewart, and it's all over. Everyone has a red living room. How do you pick up on this stuff, and what does it do with taking a walk? Well, I have been similarly barraged with prompts from the universe to take a walk. Now, I usually take walks. Having dogs means lots of walking. But since I am seeing references to taking walks (recently read Larry McMurtry's great book, Duane's Depressed, which is all about walking. I find walking in every writing book I'm picking up). So I figure, I must be doing it wrong and need to work on my walking. I think what it means is that I am walking and thinking of the next thing too much, mind racing as fast as the dogs are whirling. So, do this exercise with me. Take a walk. Without dogs or children or your mother or husband. Walk slowly. Forget the power walking. Look around. What do you see? Bring a notebook to write it/draw it. Breathe. Then when you are back home, write/draw the whole walk, from Mrs. Motyka sweeping the driveway to the bright ballons on someone's mailbox announcing "It's A Girl!" to the swollen red just budding trees.