A Walk in Dutchess County
by Marty Goldstein

In the 60s, I was introduced to the concept that the greatest trip was the one to your inner being. In pursuit of this true self, I've traveled many different roads in many different ways. After various schools of psychology, mind altering exercises and recipes, I've come to find that an excellent way to go inside is to go outside.

From the quiet streets of medieval Italy to the tropical beaches of the Caribbean, nothing places me in touch with myself as much as walking does. And no path has been more rewarding than the one just outside my front door, right here in Dutchess County. When illness robbed me of my strength and spirit, I took refuge here.

Winding softly through the woods, this walk takes me for a mile or so, past God's works, along a ridge looking west to the Catskills across the Hudson. The views are ever changing. Placid, exciting, lush, orange, grey and green. As I write, it's white with a blanket of snow under silhouetted black trees and steel blue skies.

The road is always nature pure, free of cars, cell phones and people. Nothing standing between me and the real world. To be totally lost in the moment is sweetly intense and full of wonder. It's all mine, and I love it.

The wild life changes along with the seasons, and as I watch the turkeys scratch for food, their tracks remind me of my condition; arrows which point backwards, somehow limiting the future. Their feathers are as beautiful as their movements are clumsy. All the colors and luminescence of dark butterfly wings against the snow. It's gorgeous. I see foxes and an occasional bobcat. I hear the coyotes. The usual deer, birds and squirrels abound. Watching the red tail hawks glide on the wind, I hear Pavarotti singing. The show is wonderfully life affirming. It always makes me feel better for having done it.

No clubs, equipment, iPods, or Spandex. No schedule. Allowing the luxury of time is an escape from the tyrannical cloak of technology, and a refreshing return to the freedom of childhood. The rewards are the ever present sights, sounds and smells that continually feed the senses, body, and soul. And it's free, if you just give yourself up to it.

A walk in the woods. It's the road to heaven.

Several weeks after writing this article, Marty Goldstein — graphic artist, art director, and former publisher of The Creative Black Book — died peacefully in his sleep in Milan.