Shinybass Journal Entry 12/02/25

Changing your life, 9743 steps at a time. 

‘Turn that off! Get outside! Find something to do! Go touch grass!’ 

Who does that sound like? You? Your parents? Both? I have two kids and when it is cold and wintery, outside is the last thing we think about. But if it’s above 40-ish degrees, I like to get them out as much as I can. On days when weather-reasonable, I ‘kick in the garden’ with my oldest (whose shots on goal now take my arm off), or get the youngest out to ride his bike. 

I know my Mom told me to put down the Atari 2600 controller and get outside. In simpler (or maybe just less informed) times, we would ride our bikes for hours and explore every patch of asphalt or empty lot with trees we could. Our neighborhood was damn near perfect: it was a one mile loop with just a main entrance and side entrance. Best captive biking environment for a kid. Our cul-de-sac was flat and spacious as well – bonus baseball diamond – no extra charge. 

As I get older, I encourage the kids to get out and do something. Our house isn’t near water or fun woods to explore, so I get it when outside time gets light on adventure. I even told my oldest he could dig holes in my backyard – not like the dogs aren’t doing the same. I tell him dig until he’s done, then just fill it back in. The ‘yard of the month’ people don’t go back there anyway.

As we try to get our kids into the fresh air, I can’t help but wonder if these are not words of encouragement, but rather cries for help from within. Wouldn’t we love to be kids again, carefree and full of the potential for scraped knees? Zero laundry, meal plans, dusting to do, no mortgage and health insurance to worry about? The weight of the free world rests on our shoulders most days, and all we’d like to do is build a ramp of some plywood and a cinderblock in the street and see how far we can jump our 2-wheel. 

Those that can’t do, teach, and those that can’t teach, teach gym class. We push the kids outside when in reality, we are the ones that need the air, the reset, the dirty hands. Funny how that works. 

When my wife was diagnosed with cancer, I had a lot of people coming by to help, which was wonderfully appreciated. I had a freezer full of alfredo, I had offers for watching the kids, and I even had someone mowing my yard that summer. 

Our family was humbled by the support. As her illness progressed, I really didn’t know what I needed and didn’t need. Someone came by and took the keys to my minivan and returned 2 hours later with the car full of gas and fully detailed. It turns out that’s what I needed at that moment. As I navigated, I started to realize that I needed something solid, something ‘normal’. 

It turns out the answer was as close as my two feet and one exit up the highway.

I have two friends that have been walking a local greenway daily for some time. Barring any rehearsals or touring duties (they are both in the music industry), and when the weather is semi-tolerant (we’re not catching pneumonia out here), then there are quick footsteps happening first thing in the morning for 4 miles along asphalt paths intertwined with local Tennessee flora, fauna, and funga (who also played for the Yankees in ’37). 

I admit I wasn’t entirely ‘with it’ at first: I was grieving hard, and really didn’t want to ‘talk’. I felt talked out, and I also felt like the words from friends were running on repeat: ‘I’m so sorry’, ‘I can’t even imagine’, ‘How are you and the boys doing?’. I know their hearts were in the right places, however, the first two don’t make anyone feel better, and the second is such a can of worms that no one has time for the answer. 

And grieving creates anger. Grieving consumes so much of your space that there isn’t much left for patience or calm. Your internal jar gets filled pretty quickly. I don’t like to be angry, nor do I want to be angry around others, and losing my wife made me angry. So I was tapped. 

But I decided to take the walk. I met my friends at the trailhead, we said our hellos and exchanged hugs, and started. I’m pretty sure I talked too much those first few ‘sessions’. That’s what they were for me – exercise and therapy sessions. These two guys who have some common interests and twisted humor found a way to make me feel normal, and they were just being themselves. 

The walk is great: the paved trail hugs a river, and has a couple of small bridges and pretty spots, but mostly you are walking through the woods. Walden did it long before the term ‘greenway’ showed up. The Japanese call it “Shinrin-yoku”, or forest bathing. We walk a little fast for a true ‘practice’, but I do get as much of the experience as I can. I look everywhere for bits of natural beauty, geometry, and wildlife. We’ve seen owls, deer, turkeys, snakes, otters, and I even saved a baby snapping turtle that I am quite sure was snatched by a bird of prey then dropped, for he was nowhere near water when I found him. 

The rocks and leaves speak to me. She speaks to me out there. I will have a momentary thought of her and look down and see a heart-shaped leaf at my feet. I touch the buds of the overhanging tree branches in spring, and can’t wait for honeysuckle season again, as the trail is thick with a natural perfume on those glorious mornings. If it rains when we walk, I open my palms to the sky to let the drops dance on my fingers, if only to experience one more sense in action; to feel.

Most people jog, walk, or bike the trail, and I honestly don’t know what their spiritual intention is out there. I see their physical intention, and maybe just getting to the end of their workout is the goal. That falls under the heading of ‘their business’, not mine. I try to notice one or two layers past the obvious as we walk, and offer hello to all who will accept.

On days when I walk, I feel much better. If my friends can’t make it, I go it alone. Everyone has a story out there. One day I found myself walking next to an older woman, and we struck up a conversation. She had lost her husband about a year earlier, and although I was in the same boat, I could tell she needed someone to listen to her more than have someone speak. She was a joy, and after our 3 miles together, I offered her a hug. I read somewhere that the rule at Disney is for employees to not let go of a hug first in case the other person is truly in need. She hugged me for a long time. She needed it. 

What have I learned out there on the trail? Well, I learned the deer are awfully comfortable with people, so I have gazed into a deer’s eyes from about 10 feet away. I also learned that I feel better when I walk. I feel best when I walk 2 days in a row. I also learned that I have to make a concerted effort to NOT dress like my Dad out there, although there is something about comfy shoes and sweatpants. 

I don’t know your schedule, your location, your life. I DO know that if you walk to your door, you can keep walking out of said door and walk, literally forever. I don’t recommend that, but I do recommend finding time for you, in motion, with trees within your gaze, woodland creatures singing their songs and the potential for something you’ve never seen before. 

And you might see yourself in the process: someone full of potential.

See you on the trail!