How to take a wordless walk

24 Tuesday Jan 2012

Posted by in walks, wordlessness

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You can do this anywhere.  While you might imagine a wordless walk happening in a peaceful forest or deserted beach, it’s just as possible to enjoy wordlessness in a busy airport or city streetscape.

Here’s what I do.
1. Breathe.  No, really.  Feel your breath actually expanding your lungs instead of that shallow stuff you’re doing most of the time because you’re so busy thinking.  (I have to remind myself of this, that’s why I’m reminding you too!)
2. Soften your gaze.  Find an object (a tree, a building, a Cinnabon store) in the middle of your visual field.  Look at it, then while still looking at it, widen your peripheral vision as far as you can to include everything around it.  Bring the object you’re looking at to the foreground, then make it the background, just by shifting your focus.
3. Listen.  Listen to all the sounds around you.  Birdsong, car horns, the wind, airport announcers – take it all in.  Now try to hear the space between the sounds.
4. Walk slowly with your gaze soft and your ears open.  You can also use your sense of smell – flowers? ocean? cinnamon rolls? – to bring yourself to the present.
5. Walk for as long as you like, using your softened yet heightened senses to keep you in the present moment.  Keep breathing. If you find yourself drifting into thoughts of the past or future, you can help snap yourself back to the now simply by asking yourself to look around – really look.  Really listen.  Just be – without any need to be doing anything else.  And let me know how it goes!  I’d love to hear about your experiments with wordless walking!

Wild, wonderful wordless walk

21 Saturday Jan 2012

Posted by in nature, oneness, walks, wordlessness

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The deer came.  The woodpeckers came.  An armadillo surprised us. We were quiet for a couple of hours, but the woods around us were full of sound.  Robins, doves, frogs, hawks, chickadees, creaking trees, whooshing wind and skittering skinks provided an almost musical backdrop for our stroll, and the peaceful greens and browns of the winter swamp soothed our eyes.  For a little while we didn’t have to do anything but be present and enjoy, and it was lovely.

Yes– today I hosted the my first monthly Wordless Wetland Walk on a beautiful woodland trail in Jean Lafitte National Park.  Before we even began, the deer came. This seemed special to me, because I’d asked the deer to please come. They weren’t close–  way down the road actually, but one stood a long time watching, then eventually walked away, its white tail flicking coyly side to side.

Our walk was wordless to help us be present.  We wouldn’t be chatting or making small talk, or even trying to find out the name of that bird or the species of this tree.  We wouldn’t be talking about how pretty the woods looked or how good the wind felt. We would just be quiet, and look for the stillness in our own souls.  We’d use our senses to help us stay in the moment.

We walked to the base of one of my favorite trees and sat for a while, perched or nestled among its moss-covered roots.

We gazed up at the Spanish moss swaying in the wind.

We peered close up at leaves, acorns and dropped maple flowers,

We looked far at clouds and sky and treetops full of birds.

We didn’t speak, take photos, or even gesture much.  We just walked quietly, looked, and sometimes stopped or sat.  (These photos are from my scouting walk yesterday.) We spread out for most of the time, so each of us had our own space in the woods. Toward the end of the walk we clumped up and watched an armadillo for quite a while – they don’t see or hear very well, so I don’t think this one even knew we were all about 6 feet from it.

We softened our gaze, slowed our steps, and breathed.  We forgot concerns or worries, at least for part of the time.  We marveled, noticed, appreciated, and most importantly, just existed.  Sound good?  Want to try it yourself?  Tomorrow I’ll be writing some tips on enjoying a wordless walk anywhere.  And if you’re in the NOLA area, check the Happenings tab above to see when I’m hosting the next wordless walk!

May as well give up now; try again in 2013…

16 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by in oneness, wordlessness

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This is where I was on New Year's Day. Explains why I sort of forgot about the resolution thing.

Wow.  We’re halfway through the first month of 2012.  Half way!  If you’re like me, it feels like perhaps someone put you in a time machine on New Year’s Day and you emerged two weeks later, dazed and confused.  Perhaps you’re a little freaked out because that’s 1/24th of the year already gone, GONE!!!  And such a long list of things that were going to be different or fantastic about this year – what’s been checked off? – what’s been accomplished? – what new habits are fully in place, little stickers on the calendar marking their completion?  Yoga, breathing, eating, exercising, being nice, not cursing, going to bed at a decent hour, no more time-wasting on YouTube/Facebook/Twitter/Hulu.

No yelling, instead being like the Dalai Lama, a walking paragon of peace and equanimity, never even thinking an angry thought.  Magically having time to live, work, make healthy and delicious meals full of fruits and vegetables, plus enjoy quality time with spouses/friends/family/children/neighbors/pets.  While we knit/sew/draw/photograph/paint beautiful creative pieces.  And keep the place clean – don’t forget that!

Do you- on this holiday to honor a wise and fabulous man who saw the big picture, even if he was still a human with his own foibles – do you look around and wonder where the heck January went?  Did your stickers fall to the wayside on January 4th? (Or 3rd, or 2nd?)  Are there dust bunnies lurking in the corner?  Have you had fast food?  Or an angry thought? Or perhaps a screaming match with a loved one?  Do you want to throw up your hands, dive back under the covers and say, forget it – I’ll try again in 2013?

Well, I’m here to tell you (and myself) to settle down.  Take a breath.  Look out the window.  Even better, go outside.  Even if it’s cold.  Just step out there and breathe the air and remind yourself that you’re alive.  Drop your plans.  Ask the little part inside you, the one that maybe doesn’t get to weigh in often enough, what one thing you’d most like to do today.  And just do that.

Me?  I didn’t make any resolutions this year.  I was too immersed in wordlessness and oneness.  My plan’s been to approach things a little more openly this year.  Stay present.  I know I’ll get things done – I always do!  And I have a lot more energy to make things happen if I’m not beating myself up for the 37 items on a too-long list of goals and plans that didn’t get done.  I’ll keep you posted about how it goes.  So far, so good!

Creating our reality: A moon story

17 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by in the moon, thoughts

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Our minds are very powerful.  They are experts at providing us whatever evidence we need to believe the thoughts we have.  And here’s a story about one of my favorite examples of this spectacular capability.

Back when I was a teacher, when I would begin a unit on the moon with my eighth graders, inevitably a good portion of them would insist that the moon is never out during the day.  These were not sheltered children.  They were kids who went camping with their families, played soccer, took vacations to exotic locales.

But in their minds, the moon was out at night.  They’d gathered lots of evidence to support this thought, from Goodnight Moon to werewolf movies.  And when they saw the moon at night, their mind stored that image as more proof that the moon is, indeed, out at night.

So why did they not notice the moon out during the day, like in the photo above?  Statistically, the moon is out during the day just as much as it’s out at night.  So what happened?  How could they miss something so gigantic and obvious?

Well, they had no thought to support that evidence.  So they didn’t even see it.  Until I walked them out of the classroom to look up at a blue sky with a white moon.  Even then, some students could not fathom that it was the moon.  “That’s the sun!”, they said.  It took a lot more evidence mixed in with compassion and patience for them to form the thought, “The moon is sometimes visible during the day”, and then they could begin gathering the evidence to back up their new thought.

We so want to trust our mind.  It seems so smart, so capable.  It stores so much information for us.  But it can’t hold evidence for thoughts we don’t have.  And it’s great at holding evidence for thoughts we do have, even if — perhaps especially if– those thoughts are negative.  Hey– it’s just trying to protect us–  to keep us safe — so we don’t get too big for our britches or dream too big.  It’s so good at remembering all the reasons why we can’t do this or that – even ones that date back to something someone said to us in second grade.

So what do we do?  We make new thoughts, so we can provide the space for new evidence – for all the good stuff we might be missing – stuff as big as the moon!