Just be there…
When you walk, arrive with every step. That is Walking Meditation.
-Thich Nhat Hanh
It’s cold out today, around 18℉. There’s not much wind and the sun is out, such as it is. There are a couple of inches of snow on the ground, though. That’s going to make it a bit colder. Waldo and I haven’t been on the trail since it snowed because, at these temperatures, the snow bothers his feet. I think ice builds up between his pads because I see him stop, pick up a foot and bite at it. Icy toe-jam hurts, you know. Today, though, the trail will be plowed and it’s warm enough, I don’t think he’ll be bothered.
We start out down the tarmac and Waldo is happy about being here and eager to get on with it. I keep an eye on him and I’m ready to turn around if we need to, but he seems just fine. He’s wandering out into the snow on the side of the trail, then coming back to the plowed part, then back into the powder. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s really happy doing it. I swear, when he misses a day out on a long walk, he feels like he has to make up for lost time. He’s on a romp.
As I follow along behind him, I think about doing some walking meditation. Walking meditation is a tradition in several spiritual traditions. It’s a way of training yourself to be in the moment, while still being active and distracted. Traditional sitting meditation, like on a cushion, is somewhat similar, but different. Even if you aren’t a practitioner of spiritual practices of any sort, I think you can enjoy walking meditation.
I walk down the trail behind Waldo and I turn my attention to the sensation of one of my feet touching the ground, my weight being transferred to that leg, and the muscles responding as needed. I experience the feeling of the thin layer of snow on the tarmac crunching underfoot. My weight shifts as I move my center of gravity in preparation for the next step. I’m noticing all this in fine detail, all the while feeling that it is something I’m not directing – my body is on automatic pilot. My breath goes in and out and my nose is running, just a little.
Cold air plays on my cheeks, numbing them. The cold also makes my fingers hurt, just a little. Not so much that I feel like I need to do something about it. I watch the low winter sun cast long shadows of trees across my path. Where sunlight shines, it has a golden hue to it, turning the beige of winter into something magic. I watch Waldo cavort and roll in the snow beside the path. I feel happy, seeing him having so much fun. Looking deeper into the woods, I feel the quiet slumber of nature, like a calming balm to my otherwise frantic human life.
No description in words can accurately describe what walking meditation is. Words are symbols that represent concepts and ideas. Walking meditation is neither about ideas nor concepts. It is the enveloping of oneself in the experience of walking. It’s bathing yourself in the raw experience without definition of what’s happening, without thinking about what causes this or that sensation, without judging in any way whatever it is that’s happening. If I feel my cheeks are numb with cold, I’m not separating out “my cheeks” from the rest of reality, I’m not thinking the cold is causing them to be numb, I’m not judging whether or not the sensation of being cold and numb is good or bad, I’m just basking in the experience of having cold cheeks.
Personally, I find this is hard to do. I can succeed for a moment or two, then the ideas and concepts come back and I’m no longer in the moment, I’m in a world composed of words and thoughts and not the immediate experience of being alive. Along with the ideas and concepts come values. I’m not just experiencing whatever is happening, I’m defining it, evaluating it and, sometimes, wishing for something else. Walking meditation is a way to practice living in the reality of what is actually happening to you, rather than what you’re thinking about what is happening to you.
Ideas and concepts, thinking and evaluating have value. They can be used to accomplish great things. But they are only tools. They are only ideas, and ideas are ethereal things that have no substance. One should not confuse them with what is real – the immediate experience of being alive. Focusing on that experience and letting go of the rest, is magical and enlivening. Walking meditation is a means to remind oneself of what is real and enjoying it.
Waldo and I finish our walk and I’m absorbed with the mundane chores of getting Waldo and me into the car and home. My mind is once again distracted by what it takes to drive a car and be safe on the road. Soon, I’ll be absorbed by all the things I think I need to do. But I can still check in and touch the real “me” at any time.
While doing anything.
…be present wherever you are.