My Medicine to Overthinking is Movement

Notes from my first fall walk in five years through Amsterdam 🌿 (Letter 284)

Oct 16, 2025

Hallo fellow learn-it-all 👋

Greetings from Amsterdam, Netherlands!

I biked to a Zen center last night to sit in silence for two hours. It made me reminisce of when my weekly routine in the valley of Pālolo in Honolulu was to do this same thing. But this is different. Everyone isn’t wearing black. The chimes sound different. The walking meditation involves slowing down and then speeding up. There are so many flavors in different forms.

Rituals in spiritual places are so beautiful, though. I am grateful for them. They create a sense of familiarity even in unfamiliar places. Like when I went to church for Christmas mass last year in Thailand. Or when I can go to a park and the birds still coo a similar song.

Anywho, another annual ritual I like to do is a long, long walk. That’s what I wrote about this week. Since 2022, I have been going outside and walking for 12 hours. This year, I listened to my body, and nine hours was long enough.

Oh, and this is the first time I’ve experienced fall in five years since Covid in Michigan, so I took many, many photos. A full film roll to come another day. ;)

Now, let’s dive into letter 284 from a learn-it-all. Enjoy!

🖊️Writing

On Tuesday, I set out on my annual long walk. The one I usually take at the start of fall when my mind starts to feel like a cluttered desk. It’s my ritual reset for when life feels full of too many open tabs.

Lately, my thoughts have been dressed up as doubts:

Who am I to think I am doing this? Am I actually worthy to live a life of my Dutch dream that my 21-year-old self swooned at the thought of? Have I romanticized this life too much? Wouldn’t a new dream be easier? Do I actually have enough boundaries for myself to be an entrepreneur?

Sometimes I wonder if the version of me choosing freedom forgot that it comes with its own kinds of fences.

In Thailand, living at a boarding school in Chiang Rai earlier this year, my independence, privacy, and expression were limited by rules, like what colors to wear, where to eat, how to work. In Amsterdam, freedom is mine to wrestle with. And some days, having a steady job again sounds comforting like a breath of fresh air from my constant self-negotiation. All these thoughts make me feel restless.

So right as the sun was rising at 8 AM, I got my backpack of bananas, Pink Ladies, raisin buns, gloves, and walked out the door with a film camera in my hand and a phone on flight mode. Sometimes I get anxious about the stimulation that awaits out the door, plantsitting in Amsterdam Oost. When I emerge from the bed to shower, I see the University tower behind golden trees out the steamy window—swarms of uni students, tourists, workerbees, children.

My intention for this walk? To water my curiosity, settle my spirit by detaching from the Internet and steady my sense of self again.

Despite initial uneasiness about being in the cold all day without any destination in mind, I walked back through that door nine hours later, after 28,000 kilometers walked.

Simplicity in Motion

No big breakthroughs came.

Instead, a quiet contentment noticing others move through life. A horde of bikers zooming through yellow lights to work and school. A floofy ankle biter near the Amstel, chasing a stick, lunging with legs as long as they can go. An Oma pointing out a beautiful tree to her grandson. Three crows acting as bedelaars begging for a piece of my lunch. A man mad the bakery was out of bread at 15:00. A happy squirrel scurrying up a tree with it’s newfound treasure of an acorn in its mouth. A retired couple pointing out planes as they passed overhead through the tunnel of trees. Some converse-wearing gangly blondie leaning over a hair-gelled cologne soaked knul (guy) snogging on a bench giggling. A confused cat alone with a fluffed wagging tail outside the Heineken brewery. Two wavy long-haired golden dogs having the best day of their lives, getting filthy in the mud, prancing as a pair in the duck pond.

Beings were alive and committing to that moment.

No overthinking. Just movement.

I love exploring, yet it comes at the cost of commitment. I haven’t signed a lease longer than a month since two summers ago, when I moved away from Hawaii. Tomorrow I’m moving again. Maybe the simplicity of being where I am is enough, for now, in this season.

Walking, and then writing it out, is always better than sitting inside alone, overthinking things. Nothing new usually comes from that spiraling.

At the end of the walk, my limbs felt exhausted, but my spirit alive.

It made me wonder:

How do I want to move in my own life?

Like a joyous dog? Like a lonely cat? Like a wondrous toddler?

Walking reminded me: life isn’t that complicated. It can be simple, and movement can be meaningful enough.

👁️ What I Saw

leaves transforming on golden gingkos, oranging oaks, browning tulip trees, bright yellow hirsute chestnuts, reddening maples
Three encaged alpacas smacking their lips—making me grateful for my freedom.
A cheese colored cutie playing the harmonica at the handlebars of her dad’s bike
A man is blasting Eminem from his bakfiets while 17 dogs tug on leashes.
A gray-bearded man in a “Save the Kids from Screens” Tee playing football with a boy.
A couple leaning their backs against each other on the grass glued to screens.
A toddler giggling as guts from a clementine sector squirt across her chin.
A long-limbed man in short shorts, blowing a snot rocket mid-stride.
A cormorant bird is swimming for a snack, holding its breath for 38 seconds.
A meerkoet diving for seaweed for 3 seconds.
A shivering girl in sequins and tights next to her sister in a bakfiets.
Two Irish twins taking selfies in front of the Rijksmuseum.
A doggy’s tongue falling off in the breeze of the bucket they sat in on a bike.
Three gardeners planting bulbs in Amstelpark

👃 What I Smelled

Marijuana wafting from a houseboat.
Dog poop on the edge of my sneaker.
A cloud of strong perfume from a platinum-haired cyclist.
Aioli sauce on my fingers.
The metallic tinge from construction near by.

🤲 What I Felt

the smoothness of a birch trunk, the ruggedness of an oak.
Pillowy squishy soil beneath my soles.
Joy and cramps in equal measure.
Panic while locked in a bathroom stall and stripping my shirt off to breathe.
Relief after each bit of strides from sitting.
The nostalgia of a grassy patch where I once took shrooms.
Shock that my film roll became full and stopped cranking.
Guilt that I wasn’t biking off to school or work.

👂 What I Heard

Chinese, Dutch, and English overlap like layers of the city.
Engines humming, crosswalks beeping.
The faint song of Pirates of the Caribbean on an accordion.
Humming sounds from my voice of Pochantus’ Colors of the Wind song
Church bells from the Rijksmuseum ringing at 16:15.

🍞 What I Tasted

A chicken-avocado sandwich inhaled too fast.
A krentenbol raisin buns shared with crows.
Water that tasted like a gift.
A crisp Pink Lady apple.
Salt from sweat on my upperlip.

What Remained After the Walk

I returned home with swollen feet, an aching hip that craved for some WD-40 or yoga, a frizzball head, 1640 words on an Apple Note, five pages of my journal filled with reflecting words on how decay is beautiful, and a letter to my future self using the prompt “I want you to remember…”. And in that space, my brain finally stopped trying solve my life, lost track of time and found the simplest truth: movement is my medicine.

As I moved, I thought about what I need versus what I want in my near future.

I need:
a roof that doesn’t change,
a body that moves fluidly,
words that matter,
enough money to feel steady.

I want:
companionship in community,
readers who enjoy my writing,
a life that feels intentional rather than accidental.

I love how movement makes meaning in life. When I move, I remember who I am — not a freelancer or a wanderer or a woman trying to prove her worth — but a living, breathing part of this beautiful world.

References: I walked 12 hours last year, and it was so magical that I didn’t write about it in the chaos of my move.
In 2023, I wrote 🚶‍♀️Noticing Nothing Special Moments on My 12 Hour Walk
and in 2022, 🚶‍♀️Letter 132: My 12 Hour Walk and also created this video:

~~~

❓Question to think about

When can you go for a walk and invite movement to be reminded of what matters?

Sometimes clarity doesn’t come from thinking. It comes from walking.

📖Reading

“To surrender means to let go of the idea that you have a completely separate existence and accept that your life is going on beyond your usual understanding.”

— Dainin Katagiri in “Touching the present moment” from Each Moment Is The Universe published by Shambala in 2007

🎧Listening

The Little Mess You Made by The Favors, FINNEAS, Ashe

The little mess you made
Is filling up our room
A little bit of rain
Is filling up our shoes
Maybe second place
Is just the first to lose
You can have your cake
You can have mine too
Say when
You’ll never see me again
The little mess you made
Is all over the news
The littlest mistake
Can leave the darkest bruise
Maybe I’m too late
Maybe it’s too soon
Who gets all the blame?
I guess it’s up to you

🎬 Watching

The movie John Tucker Must Die.

A hilarious movie from my youth about a male playet. Now after rewatching it again, some of the lines are just so golden, I mean, c’mon:

The main character, Kate, asked, “Carrie, what are you always typing on there?”

“Oh, lists… normal stuff, same as everyone. I have my “To Do” list, my “Goals” list, my “Contingency” list, my “Observations” list, and my “Notions,” which are, of course, very different because “Observations” require a topic sentence and “Notions” do not. You know, normal stuff.”

🔍Dutch Phrase to define

“Het is herfst” → It is autumn.

Some history about this word that is similar to the word “harvest” from Direct Dutch Institute:

The French call it “automne“ and the English “autumn“. Until the sixteenth century, the season was called “harvest” in England. An appropriate word, because the end of summer is the time of year when farmers reap and gather the ripened grain. Harvest is related to herfst, the Dutch word that has been around for at least a millennium in the Low Countries.
The Dutch word for harvest is “oogst”. Surprisingly, this word was derived from “augustus” (the eighth month of the year). August, of course, is traditionally the beginning of the “oogst” and the harvest months.

Poets hate the word herfst. It’s hard to rhyme with since it has four consecutive consonants “r”, “f”, “s” and “t” which is rare in Dutch language. Think “oragne” in English. It is one of the few words that have no “serious” rhyming matches.

🌟Quote to inspire

“Working hard for something we don’t care about is called stress; working hard for something we love is called passion.”

— Simon Sinek (found from rereading letter 7)

📸Photos of the Week

🙏Shoutouts

to Mr. Fultz my first grade biology teacher who taught me the names of trees and how to notice the different charactistics like whether it is a conifer or not.
to Pablo Musumeci for coming to my writing circle this week. It’s fun writing together and bouncing ideas off each other before and after the flowing. Join next week here: https://tally.so/r/3lxQoV
To Sarah Bringhurst Familia for organizing the second Sunday writer’s meetup. It was cozy and left me curious about so many stories to write about.

I am grateful you chose to fill part of your day here.

If something in this letter resonated, press the ❤️ , leave a comment, reply to this email, or reach me at vermetJL@gmail.com. I love hearing from you.

Keep on learning 😁

Tot snel 🌺 🌺

Toodles :)

P.S. #1 - I coach writers. I guide them to find their voice, build a writing rhythm, and have fun hitting “publish.” Let’s chat.

P.S. #2 - You’re invited. If a friend forwarded you this, welcome to the learn-it-all crew. Sign up here to get the next letter.

P.S. #3 - I wrote a book. Letters to My Life is my favorite way to share my writing with you (and it keeps your screen-time stats down). Grab your copy here.

P.S. #4 - Here’s what you missed. Last week I wrote about launching the preorder for my audiobook. You can still buy one here. :)

Letters from a learn-it-all

Discussion about this post

Ready for more?