The Amish still travel much as their ancestors did—by horse and buggy, the steady clip-clop of hooves setting the pace of their days. When longer journeys call, they may hire a driver, or sometimes board a train or bus. Closer to home, my Amish friends often walk, or glide quietly on scooters. I’ve been blessed to ride high in a buggy seat, and each time I notice how the world opens up when life slows down. Fast moving cars still have my nerves a little tense, yet I’ve learned that all life can do that. Faith plays a large part in enjoying the journey. Details that vanish from a car window suddenly appear: the sway of golden fields, the glint of sunlight on a stream, the hush of a bird taking flight.

Of course, not all of us have the chance to sit on that seat, but we can still savor the gift of slowness. A quiet walk through the countryside, a meandering stroll around the neighborhood, even a few mindful steps across our own yards—all can awaken our senses if we let them.

Living in a small Kentucky community surrounded by hills and farms, I’m fortunate to have a few acres to wander. Each walk is its own small journey: blossoms unfolding, tall trees breathing in the wind, birds offering songs too delicate to hear from behind a windowpane. I breathe the fresh air, feel the breeze brush against my skin, and remember what a simple walk can do for body and spirit alike. Especially with Ms. Ellie and Boone taking me off path regularly.

And you—have you ever ridden in an Amish buggy, or taken time to wander slowly, letting the world reveal its hidden music?