Walking meditation is a practice to which I was introduced 45 years ago. It always seemed a little contrived, forcing oneself down to a snail's pace, chanting a mantra or simply practicing mindfulness. This racehorse wanted to run and prance and sing.
Fast forward 45 years. Now feeling like a nag out to pasture, with no desire other than lolling about the house trying to forget about the cookies in the pantry, a small miracle occurred today.
Vacationing at a cabin overlooking the Straites of Georgia, which opens seaward all the way to Japan, the urge to breathe in the champagne air was overwhelming. The urge to actually walk outside to experience that purity was underwhelming. But I slipped on my slippers and walked out the door, one foot slowly placed in front of the other and a mantra silently rolling around my brain looking for a place to hitch into the drive train. I told myself that I could walk as slowly as I wanted, so that the fear of exercising would not overtake me and cause a retreat back into the house.
Slowly, step by step, I began a sojourn down a dirt path that lead through lush vegetation of Northwest vintage. The mantra found its groove and overtook all other thoughts. Suddenly, I loved those slow steps, unhurried by the pressure of cardio or fitness training. Voila! The beauty of walking meditation descended upon me and was made real.
So today a network has opened up to me, an unhurried one where I can venture forth from my cave with slow precision, enjoyment, and focus. The glorious sun of walking meditation has risen in my soul and I am grateful .