Billy Coffey

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The art of walking

May 11, 2011 by Billy Coffey 16 Comments

image courtesy of photobucket.com
image courtesy of photobucket.com

I see her five days a week, Monday through Friday. Always at 10:00 or so, just as I’m dropping off mail and picking up more.

She’s always dressed the same—faded jeans, white T shirt. Always has a cup of coffee in her hand, held up close to her mouth, even if she’s not sipping. Her strides are as short as her age is long, to the point where she seems to patter along instead of walk.

There are, of course, many walkers around campus. The scenery is green and quiet and safe. But her routine ensures she stands out from the rest. She will take three steps and pause, her head down as if in prayer, then sip. Take three more steps, repeat. Every day, Monday through Friday. And probably the others too, but I’m at home and can’t see her.

I was at the 7-11 this morning, hunting for lunch, and said hello to the person in line in front of me. Turns out it was her.

“I know you,” she said. “You’re the boy who passes me every day.”

I said yes and smiled, thinking it had been a very long time since someone called me boy.

She sipped her coffee and smiled. “You must think I’m a crazy person.”

“Why’s that?”

“For the way I go about my morning constitutional,” she said. “You know.” She moved out of the line and proceeded to take three small steps toward the candy aisle, stopped, sipped. “That.”

“I don’t think that makes you a crazy person,” I said.

“Yes you do.”

I paused. Said, “Though I’ll admit it has upon occasion made me a mite curious.”

“Ha!” she said, stepping back into line. “I knew it. You know how many people think that? That I’m crazy? I get that all the time.”

I nodded, not sure of an appropriate response.

“But I’m not,” she said. “Not crazy at all. I’m smart. Smarter than all the other walkers.” Then she leaned in close and whispered, “Wasn’t born that way, though. I got smart the way you’re supposed to—by screwing up a lot first.”

The man at the cash register finally bought his lottery tickets. He left, the line moved up.

“Makes sense,” I said. “If that’s true, then I’m going to be a genius one of these days.”

“Wanna know why I do that? Why I walk that way?”

“Sure.”

“I forgot how to walk.”

I looked at her, this woman who said she wasn’t crazy at all but sure did seem like she was.

“I was a lawyer in a former life,” she told me, the line moving once more. “That’s a horrible existence. Always running around, always in a hurry. Know what happens when you’re always in a hurry? Life passes you. I got rich, but I lost entire years of living. Isn’t that horrible?”

“Sounds like it,” I said.

She laid her coffee on the counter and smiled at the cashier, a tired-looking young man who would rather be somewhere else.

“I retired last year and decided I was going to learn how to walk again. Not like the other people who parade around on that campus. They’re always out there with some intention. Shape this or firm that. Not me. My only intention is to feel and listen. When I’m walking, I’m feeling. But I always stop, because the only time anyone can listen is when they stop.”

She paid and left. I sat my lunch on the counter and watched her go. She paused at the edge of the parking lot and sipped her coffee. Stretched out her arms. Then she walked three steps and stopped.

Feeling and listening.

I like this lady. She’s taught me much.

Like how sometimes we have to slow down so life doesn’t pass us, and how we can live entire years and yet lose them just the same.

Filed Under: life, purpose, time

Comments

  1. okiewife says

    May 11, 2011 at 8:54 pm

    I have decided I want to be like this lady when I grow up, marching to my own drummer. By the way, I’m 73.

    Reply
  2. Kelly Sauer says

    May 11, 2011 at 9:00 pm

    Do you think if we all walked, felt, listened… Do you think we’d all find the stories you find? I can’t wait for your next book. Just sayin’.

    Reply
  3. John says

    May 11, 2011 at 11:47 pm

    Really enjoyed this. I had coffee with a friend and talked about the hikes we never seem to take anymore. Your friends words are so wise. I might be seen as a little off tomorrow as I step the times then stop.

    Reply
  4. Sue Haberlein says

    May 12, 2011 at 8:26 am

    Enjoyed this Billy!

    Reply
  5. Marilyn Yocum says

    May 12, 2011 at 8:45 am

    EXCELLENT!! Love her intentionality!

    Reply
  6. David Rupert says

    May 12, 2011 at 10:19 am

    She forgot how to walk! How many of us forget how to breathe, forget how to smile, forget how to sit?

    The little things that a hurried life steal from us…

    Reply
  7. Joanne Sher says

    May 12, 2011 at 10:30 am

    Love this – and her.

    Reply
  8. AmyJo says

    May 12, 2011 at 11:50 am

    Beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Reply
  9. Helen says

    May 12, 2011 at 12:40 pm

    God bless her for the example she is giving to the campus.
    And God bless you for sharing her story here.

    Reply
  10. Patricia says

    May 12, 2011 at 2:11 pm

    How time slips bye us…..I keep saying I’m going to write down the highlight of words I so often hear on my FAST pace walks at the beach. Thank you for sharing this remarkable listening/walking touching story.

    Reply
  11. James Williams says

    May 12, 2011 at 3:18 pm

    I liked this. Then I read this:

    http://www.patheos.com/community/karenspearszacharias/2011/05/12/the-art-of-living/
    and wonder if God is speaking to me.

    Reply
  12. Simply Darlene says

    May 12, 2011 at 10:40 pm

    I get left behind all of the time with my taking it slow… It’s okay until I lose track of my fellas and hear something growl in the woods. 😉

    And I second what Mister Rupert said.

    Blessings.

    Reply
  13. Jaycee (E.A) says

    May 13, 2011 at 12:13 pm

    This was just so beautiful. I took a pause, sipped on my coke, and took it all in.

    Reply
  14. TruthHunter says

    May 13, 2011 at 3:07 pm

    This is so beautiful. Reminds me of the lines from the poem “Leisure”: “What is this life if so full of care/That we forget to stand and stare?” And all the more pertinent in this age of constantly incoming information that we don’t stop to truly take in. Thank you for sharing this, Billy.

    Reply
  15. Amy Nabors says

    May 15, 2011 at 1:57 pm

    This is something God is teaching me lately. I’ve been to busy to just stop and be and listen. It’s wearing on my spirit though. I have to make time to stop and listen. Thanks for sharing your beautiful words Billy.

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. br8kthru: RT @helenatrand… « Alaska Status says:
    May 12, 2011 at 1:36 pm

    […] RT @helenatrand… br8kthru: RT @helenatrandom: The art of walking – http://www.billycoffey.com/2011/05/the-art-of-walking/ by @billycoffey May 12th, 2011 | Category: […]

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