Kinship Medicine

When walking becomes an outdoor health clinic

The sun is out and gathering in strength, temperatures are cool. The trail beckons after a few days of having my head in computer stuff. So I meet up with my Saturday hiking group. Evidently, others feel the same; fifteen hikers, both male female, show up in warm jackets and summer hats. The trail leads from the highway across the mesa to the edge of the Rio Grande canyon, the mighty river snaking far below, while the Sangre de Cristo mountains tower in the background. The crack in the earth under the river is a mile below. A place of power, where the earth has split and is moving its yawning cavern.

We follow a two-track dirt road. A wider trail allows for pairing up and having conversations. As I need to get into my rhythm, I follow others talking in front of me. There is something soothing listening to conversation without participating, catching bits and pieces as words dissipate into the air; I let the voices be a white noise that eases my nerves. So does walking eases my nerves. Nerves rattled from the week’s war news, the disastrous hearings on Capitol Hill, where truth is evaded and forced into an underground river that wants to erupt but can’t. A week of carrying on despite World War III erupting and sending its bombs and missiles to targets all over the Middle East (for now). I can’t ignore that this affects my energy. The endless stream of crazy acts by the administration is exhausting.

Thus we walk. We walk to calm ourselves, to invigorate, and to find kinship.

I picked up a book at a book reading at our local literary center the other day, called Kinship Medicine. The author, Wendy Johnson, MD, MPH, remind us that there was a time when health was a communal affair. People not only cared for the sick in their community, they also knew each others’ lifestyles and, through regular contact, encouraged and taught healthy interventions for themselves, each other, and the earth they were stewarding.

When I walk with my hiking and walking groups, conversations center around health problems, life problems, and discoveries made. Individuals find a listening ear, can vent their frustrations, ask questions, and get advice. A hiking group is a walking (mental) health clinic. In the open air, at a good pace promoting deep breathing, the problems dissipate and the conversation turns to cultural explorations of books and travel. The weekly nature of these hikes offers sustenance in an unsustainable political world.

Western medicine and health advocates view our bodies as machines that we need to care for by eating right, exercising, and finding fitting recreation. Each individual handles their own health. Gaslighting in medicine, especially for women, minorities, and seniors is rampant. Advocating for oneself is a long and arduous road. We need each other in this endeaver. I’ve been experiencing this myself, even though I still like my PCP, a smart but overworked, pressed-for-time woman-doctor. If I hadn’t done my research, my doctors would have treated my health issues as separate symptoms, not related, not seen in the whole of my body-being. Each symptom receives separate treatment, with no exploration of interrelations. Have a problem? We have a pill for that! My young male specialist rattles off details and numbers regarding my health issue but doesn’t relate to any other part of my being. Luckily, I find, that one medication’s side effect is causing the problem. I stop taking the medication, and, in time, I largely resolve the issue without having to take another, brand-new expensive medication. A $ 500 monthly co-pay? You must be kidding me. I don’t have to become a walking medicine cabinet, just because I am aging.

Kinship medicine’s role begins here. On our walk, I tell my hiking buddy what I discovered and get the next person thinking, not for themselves but for others they know. The knowledge spreads. Hiking together, we share knowledge, we recommend things to each other, and we create immediate mental relief. Even if no solution is clear, the camaraderie is soothing and provides a buffer against the nerve-wracking onslaught of daily stresses. Today I come away feeling stronger, more relaxed in my body, with a new book title, and a knitting hack I can use for the slippers I’m working on. Moving among the large group, I reconnect with many of the group members and know what they’re up to, where they’re traveling, what’s hurting them, and what they’re exploring. By meeting up regularly we’re cultivating interdependence. And that, my friends, is the good stuff that helps us survive and thrive.

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Dami Roelse is the author of several books on walking/hiking and transformational travel: “Walking Gone Wild, how to lose your age on the trail” and “Fly Free, a memoir of love, loss and walking the path”. Her next book, “Body and Grace, a woman’s hike to wholeness on the PCT, is forthcoming April 2026 from Mantra Books and available for pre-order on Amazon.