Mindfulness is a mantra for our times. In a practice of mindful meditation, we learn to become aware of thoughts, sensations in our bodies, and feelings. We become aware of them with curiosity and kindness, and without judgment. We acknowledge them and let them go. When our minds wander, we gently bring them back to the moment, the right now. Over and over. Practicing mindfulness can help us reduce anxiety and depression, which is very good news, since we are living in a crazy pandemic world right now, and sometimes it feels like absolutely nothing is going right.
Until recently (more on this in a minute), my mindful practice took a back seat to my walking habit. Why sit still for fifteen minutes when I can be outside walking through the park? I’ve been a walker my entire life. I’ve walked for exercise, to raise money for cystic fibrosis research, to find a cure for HIV/AIDS, to find homes for shelter dogs and cats. I’ve walked as a meditation practice. I’ve walked to calm down after meetings with my boss, and I’ve walked to wake myself up when there’s no more coffee. I married a long-legged man from Queens and we’ve walked thousands of miles together. Walking has lifted my spirits, dropped my weight, and made me happier overall.
Though I enjoyed walking, I would not characterize myself as a mindful walker. In fact, I was often the opposite — walking with earbuds and blaring music, walking while talking on the phone, walking late at night while listening to guided meditation (so so wonderful), and walking with my inner voice chattering nonstop until I found myself back home and wondering how I got there.
And then, one night, I fell. I fell down three of our front porch concrete steps. I broke my left kneecap. After surgery, followed by weeks of hobbling around on crutches, I was ready to start physical therapy and go back to walking.
And then, I fell again; this time, I broke my right kneecap. More surgery, more hobbling, and then weeks of physical therapy. When I felt my resolve to work hard falter, I reminded myself that if I worked hard at rehabbing my knees, I’d be rewarded with long walks again.
After all this, the good news is that I can walk again. The bad news is that I’m terrified. I open the front door in the afternoon and stand on the step, frozen. Sometimes the fear of falling is so intense that I turn around and go back inside. When I actually make it down the porch steps and start my walk, I am stiff and awkward. I feel like I’ve forgotten exactly how to put one foot in front of the other to propel myself forward. It’s only when I plan a route that is level and perfectly paved that I feel safe enough to walk for more than a few minutes. The activity that I have loved for more than five decades causes crippling anxiety, which leaves me depressed and feeling like a failure. It’s been a miserable downward spiral, to be honest.
One night, as I was sitting on the sofa feeling sorry for myself, something my therapist told me months ago floated back into my consciousness. You just have to practice mindful walking.
Several years ago, I attended a half-day meditation retreat. One of the meditations we did was a walking meditation. We were to focus completely on what our feet were doing, how our heels and our toes were moving, when the left foot lifted and the right foot fell. For me, a newcomer to meditation, it was a wild experience. But when my knees were healthy and flexible and strong, my walking meditation morphed into staying in the moment as I walked, but not necessarily focused on the act of walking itself.
I decided that mindful walking would be a good way for me to feel more comfortable walking because I would be focused on where I was putting my feet and how my knees were feeling during each step. Also, focusing my mind on the physical act of walking would help me keep the anxiety and worry at bay.
Walk This Way
When starting any kind of mindful practice, it’s a good idea to set an intention to commit to the practice. I decided to start with a short walk every week day. I knew that because I hadn’t practiced mindful anything for most of this year, it would be difficult to jump right back with a long session. So, I decided to commit to a mindful walk around my neighborhood — about a five minute total.
The first day was bright and sunny, not too hot, with a lovely little breeze. I stood in my doorway and took a couple of deep cleansing breaths while I set my intention to be focused and mindful on my walk. Down three steps, then a landing, then down two more steps, then the sidewalk. I dropped my gaze slightly, to help improve focus. This also reassured me that I was watching where I was putting my feet.
I felt the breeze tickle my hair. Left heel down, left toe up, right heel down, right toe up. I felt my feet connecting with the cement sidewalk. I heard the tap of my cane in sync with my left heel coming down. I felt the stiffness in my knees, the point where flexion was difficult, feeling like an unseen hand was preventing my knees from bending naturally. I felt a tightening sensation, as if the skin around my kneecaps was too tight.
Being focused on the sensation in my knees brought images of the fall, the trip to the emergency room, the why did this happen to me questions, then the how can I find a job when I can barely walk oh my god oh my god thoughts.
I gently guided my mind back to the right now, with a kind reminder that this was mindfulness time. I confess that I had to do this a lot on my first walk. A lot. And it was just a five minute walk around the neighborhood. But mindful walking is a practice. I didn’t expect to be perfect — I’ll never be perfect. But I resolved to keep practicing.
There’s no right or wrong way to practice mindful walking. After a few days, I lengthened my walks to ten minutes and found that the closer I was to returning home, the harder it became to focus. But I was also able to more readily notice when my mind wandered so I was able to bring it back to focus. I also noticed I was physically more tired, but also less anxious after the longer session. I’ll take physical fatigue over soul crushing anxiety any day of the week, thank you.
Not all of my walks are mindful. Since I started the practice, I find myself more comfortable just walking. I feel like I can more successfully lessen the fear and anxiety. The other day I even listened to some music — in one ear only, with the sound turned way down. It’s a start, the baby steps back to being a walker. I am hopeful.
