These days, my neighborhood looks like somebody sprayed a can of Raid on the anthill of suburbia. Reclusive viral hostages have rediscovered sidewalks and the art of walking.

Shunning cars for a change, new walkers are no doubt noticing that moving on foot for any distance feels like the world has stopped around them. And the good news is, it has.

As simple as it may seem, there are actually different levels of walking, from numbskull to cerebral. Serious walkers can take their stroll up a notch through an essay by Willard Spiegelman, Hughes Professor of English, Emeritus, at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas.

I corresponded with him once, but lost the connection when he retired. Rumor has it he has a place in Stonington Borough.

Spiegelman’s essay on walking appears in his book, “Seven Pleasures: Essays on Ordinary Happiness.” He is also the author of “Senior Moments,” a must-read for anyone over 50.

Spiegelman can’t help but add literary spice to any subject, and, through worldly insight and the heart of a poet, he coerces you into seeing certain life pleasures as the gifts they truly are.

Concerning walking, “Everything comes down to the mind and the body,” Spiegelman says. “Our aesthetic apprehension of the world and our thinking about it.” Walking well is all in the details.

Every walk is a new walk, even over the same roads because something always changes, even if it’s just the passersby, nature or the weather. And, if we take the time to look inward, we might discover something about ourselves as the world opens before us.

In addition to physical benefits, Spiegelman adds that walking also “cleanses, clears, provokes, and repairs the mind.” Its replenishment increases optimism, and induces happiness.

He quotes philosopher Søren Kierkegaard: “When I have a problem, I walk, and walking makes it better.” Kierkegaard also said “Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness.”

Poets and artists have long walked for inspiration.

Spiegelman notices “The mind works constantly, but it has always seemed that the thoughts that come to me on my feet are sharper, more interesting, and more surprising than others that come, say, in the car or the shower.”

Walks are fully enjoyed by paying attention to the minute details of one’s surroundings, whether in urban or suburban settings.

Talking of London and Paris: “Especially as twilight begins to descend in either of these cities, one has the related pleasure of catching glimpses of the life within the houses, of furnishings, paintings, and sometimes the residents themselves, who have unintentionally made themselves available to the passerby.”

“As a spectator, one takes part vicariously in the lives of others…such as a glimpse into a warm home that “encourages compensatory feelings of imaginative warmth. One imagines what it might be like to be inside. The window into a room is also a mirror of one’s finest, profoundest dreams and aspirations. It occurred to me that a single person inside looking out is inevitably more isolated than the single person outside looking in.”

Spiegelman reminisces of walking past “lilacs in redolent bloom,” chestnut trees in stately blossom giving “promise of sensuous bliss.”

You get the idea. Open your senses, let your walk nurture your humanity. Slowing down can be good for you. You might arrive home a better person.

John Steward lives in Waterford. He can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com.