Walking Meditation

Year of Contemplative Practice, Month 4

The world underfoot: moss greened by melting snow, thriving in the gaps between the flagstones on my patio. Photo: Susan J. Tweit

Sometimes the world breaks open our hearts.

Hello Friends,

I wrote the words above to introduce my Year of Contemplative Practice project. Notice that I said “breaks open,” not just “breaks” our hearts. When our hearts break open, when our shells crack, we are offered an opportunity to reform, renew, to respond in new ways.

In these heart-cracking times, we need contemplative practices more than ever. They help us find our still center, our inner strength and resilience, the courage to act from our whole selves, to find creative ways to grow life and living.

What are contemplative practices? Rituals that allow us to quiet our minds and hear the inner voice of the sacred. There are many kinds, arising from many spiritual and religious traditions.

Finding one that works for you is an individual thing: Some people need the companionship of group meditation or worship, some need silence, some need the soothing repetition of mantras and chants, or worry beads and rosaries.

Some of us need to be outside, some at an altar, some need candles or meditative music. Some need stillness, some need movement. Try different ones, and you will recognize those that work for you.

Walking Meditation

The practice I return to every day is my own particular form of walking meditation: Outside, feet grounded by the living soil, breathing air oxygenated by our planet’s legions of green and photosynthesizing lives. I walk at my own pace, steadied by the repetitive movement: lift one foot, reach forward, push my body with the other foot, plant the first foot, and then lift the second foot and reach forward again, mindful and present.

The effort to remain present in the physical and also connected to the world around me quiets my busy mind. My heart rate slows, my adrenaline system relaxes, my blood pressure drops along with my cortisol production. The jangled neurons in my brain relax and let pleasure and empathy flow again.

Not in every moment. I lose focus. Suddenly, I am thinking about the next writing deadline or the latest killing by ICE or how large my monthly utility bill will be. My hands are cold, my left knee aches, and the long toe on my right foot is rubbing against my boot.

When I notice my distraction, I don’t castigate myself. I simply take a few deep breaths and return my attention to walking mindfully. Eventually, I notice I am distracted again. And gently return my focus. Over and over for a mile or three.

Despite the moments when I realize I am not present with my steps and the ground and the sky, the practice soothes me. I return home renewed by the rhythm of feet touching and releasing earth, the crisply cold air, the twittering voices of bluebirds, the sweet medicinal fragrance of big sagebrush, the sight of snow on the peaks above town. The practice of being present, something I will never master consistently, but will keep working at!

My form of walking meditation—striding along solo, in silence, outdoors—restores my mental, emotional and spiritual balance.

It helps me live each day with my heart outstretched as if it were my hand.

If the idea of walking meditation speaks to you, read on for resources to get you moving, mindfully.

The details I notice in walking meditation, like the chrome-yellow dots of lichen on this old pear tree, renew my spirit. Photo: Susan J. Tweit

Some resources for walking meditation

The walking of which I speak has nothing in it akin to taking exercise, …but is itself the enterprise and adventure of the day. —Henry David Thoreau, Walking

Thoreau’s extended meditation on walking calls his transcendentalist’s practice sauntering, but it surely sounds like a form of walking meditation. Walking is available in book form, or as a free PDF at the Walden Project.

Touch the earth with love, with mindfulness, with care. As if you kiss the earth with your feet. —Thich Naht Hanh, How to Walk

The late Buddhist monk Thich Naht Hanh is perhaps the best-known teacher of classical walking meditation. This video teaches how healing this form of mindfulness practice can be for us and for the earth our feet “kiss” with love.

The 19 monks of the Dhammacetiya project are demonstrating the quiet power of walking meditation through their 2,300-mile Walk for Peace from Fort Worth, Texas to Washington, DC. Starting last October as simply a small procession of monks with shaved heads, some barefoot, all wearing colorful robes, and accompanied by Aloka, their faithful rescue dog, their steady daily walk has gathered more and more supporters. Now, thousands of people turn out to greet them at each stop. That swelling welcome revives my hope for America. See a live map of their journey here. Their videos and short dharma talks are on Instagram here.

Julia Rymut’s “Walking for Peace” Substack newsletter explains walking as a contemplative practice through her own experience and the story of Peace Pilgrim, and includes both practical and spiritual prompts.

One final thought for living these times with courage and intention:

We are not called to discern the next steps on our own but to receive Earth’s wisdom.… We are not asked to leap into “fixing things” but to listen deeply. … We are invited to bear witness to what is, just as it is, within the shelter of community. — Leah Rampy, “Reclaiming Kinship,” from Reweaving Earth & Soul

In two weeks, I’ll be back with news of a new series of Live conversations, and more on Earthbound, my new book.

Until then, hold each other close, nurture your communities, human and wild, and shine as brightly as you can. Together, we will walk our way into the light.

Blessings,

Susan