Charles Dickens was a notorious nightwalker.

He’d take to the streets of Victorian London after dark and explore every nook and cranny the city had to offer. Some nights, walking as far as 20 miles.

While Dickens primarily walked for pleasure, during his nighttime wanderings he’d gather material for a body of work that would later span 15 novels, five novellas, hundreds of short stories and countless essays.

There seems to be a shared enthusiasm for walking among great thinkers, writers and artists.

Aristotle would often conduct his lectures on foot, his students closely in tow as he read from one of his books.

Ludwig Van Beethoven would structure his working days around a series of walks, taking his longest walk in the afternoon where he would pack a pen and paper to capture inspiration.

Charles Darwin took three 45-minute walks every single day. Albert Einstein walked religiously during his tenure at Princeton University. And, Virginia Woolf would walk whilst reciting her drafts aloud to herself.

Lately, I’ve been making it a habit to walk more.

While I’m feeling less anxious, lethargic and mentally cluttered because of it, I’ve had to really squint to see the heightened sense of creativity that is so apparent when gazing at the storied careers of these great figures.

In my opinion, walking itself won’t make you more creative. But, it will allow you to more quickly and seamlessly work through and navigate inevitable snags in the creative process.

Prior to walking, when I would find myself exhausted after being suddenly confronted with a creative bear, I’d attempt to wrestle it; and get my ass handed to me.

Now, I step away, go for a walk, fetch a club and comeback, loaded-for-bear.

Walking doesn’t make your more creative. It makes you less likely to force creativity in a moment that requires perspective.

Walking gives you permission to walk away.

By Cole Schafer

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