Let us take a moment to consider the modest walk. Not the sort undertaken with a fitness tracker in hand and protein shake at the ready, but the gentle, ambling kind. The kind that begins without ceremony, without urgency, and most importantly, without a destination in mind. There is something quietly magical in it. A person sets out for no better reason than to be elsewhere, briefly free from chairs and screens and the strange compulsion to appear productive.

You see, walking has an extraordinary capacity to ease the mind into a different sort of thinking. Not the hard, grinding kind one uses to solve equations or reply to emails, but the looser, more elastic kind that plays with ideas and chases after thoughts like a cat with a bit of string. It is not merely an old fashioned notion. There is a growing body of evidence, both scientific and anecdotal, that movement, done gently and without interruption, gives the brain room to do what it does best. It makes connections, explores possibilities, and stumbles across insights that would never have arrived under pressure.

The recipe is delightfully simple. Take yourself for a walk. Choose a street, a park, a stretch of hallway if that is all you have. Let your thoughts wander. Begin with a question or a vague idea if you must, but do not try to wrestle it into shape. The aim is not to solve or produce, but to observe. You are not conducting a meeting. You are hosting a meander.

And when something comes to you, as it very often does, be ready to catch it. Jot it down. Whisper it into your phone. Scribble it on your sleeve if necessary. Inspiration is not always polite. It rarely waits for you to be prepared. Then, when you return, sit down. Review your thoughts as if they belonged to someone else. Most of them will be half formed, scattered or delightfully strange. And once in a while, one will be just right.

This little ritual is not the preserve of poets or philosophers. It is available to anyone with a pair of legs and an idle moment. And that, I think, is what makes it quietly marvellous. There is no great ceremony to it. No barrier to entry. Only a willingness to move and the good sense to listen.

So if your thinking is stuck, or your mind feels dull around the edges, do not press harder. Do not frown at the blinking cursor or pace your office like a caged bear. Instead, go out. Take a walk. Let your mind swing its arms beside you. Let the air stir your thoughts. Let the world show you something it has been waiting to reveal.

What you discover may not be grand. It may not even be useful. But there is every chance it will be just the thing you needed to hear.