Walking Through the Chaos (With Joy in Our Pockets)

The world feels a bit sideways right now, doesn’t it? Everything fast and furious, headlines that jolt, scrolls that numb, noise that clings. It can feel like the center won’t hold. But here’s the wild, radical, delicious truth: I believe in walking. Yes, walking. As in, lace up your shoes, open the door, and put one foot in front of the other. Outside. With intention. With curiosity. With joy.

In times of cultural chaos, when the loudest voices seem to win and everything feels like a shouting match, walking offers us a quiet rebellion. A pause. A return. There’s nothing fancy about it—no gym, no gear, no perfection needed. Just you and the earth, and maybe a few birds who haven’t checked the news.

When I walk, I am reminded that the ground is still under my feet. That the sky is still gloriously overhead. That the moon, in her quiet splendor, is still cycling on schedule. Walking tugs us out of the virtual and back into the vivid. The texture of bark. The ridiculous joy of squirrels. A dandelion declaring itself on a cracked sidewalk.

Joy, I’ve found, isn’t a denial of the world’s pain; it’s a counterweight. A form of strength. It’s saying, even here, even now, I will look up. I will see the wild beauty. I will tend to what’s good. And walking—steady, simple walking—helps me do that.

Of course, there are days when it all feels too heavy. When the world aches and you carry some of it in your own chest. Those are the days I walk more slowly. I let the wind do the talking. I nod at the trees like old friends. I feel my breath return to its rhythm. I let joy sneak in through the cracks.

Because joy does sneak in, doesn’t it? Through the sound of gravel crunching under your heel. Through the way a neighbor’s dog trots up like you’re the best thing that’s happened all week. Through a child’s chalk drawing, wobbly suns and rainbow hearts, that says, in its own way, “We’re still here. We’re still trying.”

I once read that walking is a form of forward falling. Isn’t that beautiful? We’re never fully balanced; we’re catching ourselves, again and again. In this moment of imbalance, culturally and personally, maybe that’s the invitation. Not to fix it all, not to sprint toward certainty, but to walk. With presence. With care. With a ridiculous red scarf or mismatched socks, if it helps remind you to smile.

We walk to listen. We walk to notice. We walk because movement shifts mood and opens doors in the mind. And we walk with joy—not the tidy, Instagram-filter kind—but the kind that grows like wildflowers in sidewalk cracks. Resilient. Slightly rebellious. Gloriously unnecessary and entirely essential.

So if the world feels like too much today, go for a walk. Even ten steps. Even just around the block. Let the sky remind you of vastness. Let your feet whisper, still here, still here, still here.

We don’t need to have it all figured out. We just need to keep walking, with joy in our pockets, wind in our hair, and a willingness to be astonished.

Every single day, the world offers us something to marvel at. Every single day, our feet can take us there.

Keep going, Walk Star. Keep going.

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Libby DeLana is an award-winning executive creative director, designer/art director by trade, who has spent her career in the ad world. Click here to get your copy of Libby’s first published book, Do Walk. You can connect with Libby on Instagram @thismorningwalk and @parkhere.