Ommmmmmmmmm.

David Lynch once said “the thing about meditation is: you become more and more you.” I love this because this has been my exact experience.

I loathe categorizing people, but I’ve found that folks typically fall into three camps when it comes to meditation, as follows: (i) they love meditation and do it all the damn time; (ii) they don’t really care for meditation, but it seems a trendy thing to participate in so they talk about it all the damn time; (iii) or they think it’s utterly ridiculous, and let their distaste for it be known all the damn time. Of course, there are many shades of grey outside these thought processes and actions, but I’ve often found that there is truth in my analysis.

Much like travel, I don’t think that meditation is a process or practice that is universally applied to all people. I can tell you that the first time I tried to meditate I failed abysmally. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t clear my mind, couldn’t chill out. It was a disaster. They I finally sort of got the hang of it all and found myself falling asleep. Another reason to chastise myself. Nothing about it was working for me so I kind of decided that I was a person that wasn’t meant for meditation. It was fine. I had yoga and walking and running and all the things. Who needed meditation?

Well, then I discovered something called walking meditation. Someone actually mentioned it to me and before I knew what it was, I was like, sure I meditate while I walk or run. It’s a very peaceful process. Then, this person explained to me that walking meditation was actually the process of plugging into movement or behavior that is typically automatic and bringing those things to consciousness in a meaningful way. What?! I didn’t understand at all. Then this person asked me what I do when I walk. This seemed like an incredibly thoughtless and silly question to me. What do you mean what do I do when I walk? I walk. Right. Oh. As I was responding with a bit of snark in my tone, I began to understand.

For most of us, not all, but most, we are able to perform certain activities sort of mindlessly. Actually, I’ll go so far as to say that many of us take that movement for granted because we are able to perform without much thought. A beautiful side benefit of walking meditation that I didn’t anticipate was the gratitude that I felt when I was done. I was able to appreciate the fact that my body was able to move in a very unconscious and easy fashion. There are so many who do not have that luxury due to illness or injury or circumstance, and here I am, moving with ease. What a beautiful thing.

This all sounds very lovely, but you might be wondering how it actually works and why this would be relevant to someone who can’t really move in this way for any one of a million reasons. Okay, the brilliant bit is that this instruction that I’m about to share can be applied to many, many different kinds of meditation. I am going to share with you what it is that I do when I meditate. These are not hard and fast rules at all, but what I’ve found works best for me. So yeah, that’s my tippy top advice- find what works best for you and then grow it over time as you change. In case you are thinking that you don’t change, I’m here to tell you that’s erroneous. WE ALL CHANGE. Our bodies change, our needs change, our emotions shift, our environment is always freaking changing. Change happens. Better to acknowledge it then deny it. Just saying.

I started by acknowledging the mechanics of walking. Literally. Putting one foot in front of the other. I thought about all the body parts and all the physical inner workings that contribute to the process of walking; my breath, my legs, my arms, and even my head. My eyes. What about my eyes? Seeing the road in front of me. I started by acknowledging and focusing on one of these parts or processes on each walk. For example, I probably started with my feet. I thought about my full foot in my sneaker. My toes stretched, my arch collapsed (ah, the joys of flat feet), the movement from heel to toes. I thought about the ball of my foot pressing into the bed of my sneaker and I even gave thought to activating each of my toes to make sure they were along for the ride. I made it a meaningful and very ‘plugged in’ experience. This might sound tedious, but it wasn’t. It was actually really lovely. You know what’s great? Not only did that little exercise get me out of my head and other things that were troubling me, but it also made me pay attention to parts of my body that might need a little more TLC. I was able to acknowledge that maybe I needed to stretch my feet a little more than I usually do, and so I did. I hung my heel off a sidewalk curb and pressed my toes gently into the concrete. I felt a beautiful stretch in my foot and all the way up my legs.

I went through this process with every component of walking that I could identify. I counted my breath in and breath out. I plugged my elbows in and loosened my fists and swung my arms in a manner that was loose and also controlled. I rolled my head around to stretch out my neck and gently pushed my chin back to try and realign my spine. This might all sound insane to you, but it is really the purest form of love we can bestow upon the body. It is.

Maybe you can’t walk for a variety of reasons. The same approach applies if you are sitting in a chair or laying in bed. You can take any type of activity that your body is able to maneuver into and accomplish and break it down into its various pieces and bring yourself peace by doing so. This is not hokey talk or religion (pet peeve when people identify it as such). This is slowing things down to have a more pointed and deliberate experience in the world. When we slow things down for a minute or ten or twenty, we give ourselves another chance to breathe and reset. We give ourselves a shot at gratitude and that, my friends, brings about happiness. That much I promise you.

L.