On Tuesdays, I step away. Away from email and calendar blocks, away from the press of productivity, away from the temptation to measure the day in tasks completed.
Instead, I lace up my shoes and walk. Slowly. Aimlessly, at least in the worldly sense. I wander Cincinnati neighborhoods (and sometimes beyond), following where the sidewalk bends or where a side street whispers, “Come check me out.” I pause for park benches, for unique shops, for signs of radical welcome, for the joyful laughter of strangers.
This kind of wandering has a name: flânerie — the art of strolling, unhurried and open, attentive to the life of the neighborhood. For me, it has become more than leisure. It is my sabbath practice.
As a Unitarian Universalist minister, I believe the sacred is not confined to sanctuaries or scriptures. It waits for us in ordinary places — in alleys and storefronts, in riverbanks and rooftops, in overheard fragments of conversation. Walking without why, I learn to notice again. I learn to be present.
This blog is a record of those walks. Sometimes you’ll find simple notes of what I saw. Sometimes, small epiphanies. Sometimes, just a benediction in passing.
I invite you to stroll alongside. Not for destinations, but for discoveries. Not for efficiency, but for presence. Not for why, but simply for what is.
Welcome to Walking Without Why.