Anyone who has hiked has likely experienced the feeling that walking can be meditative. As it turns out, there is such a thing as “walking meditation”, with established methods and practitioners who tout its benefits. In this three-part series, Yamatomichi Journal editor-in-chief Masaaki Mita delves into the concept, explaining why it’s worth learning, easy to master and not just for hikers.

Fifteen years ago, I wrote this in my notes:

“Walking has always been inseparable from human life. In ancient India, ascetics used walking as a means of training and meditation. In Vipassana meditation, which is said to have originated with the Buddha’s teachings, walking meditation is emphasized. The Buddha spent much of his life traveling on foot.”

I was exploring the history of walkers. I no longer remember where I got the information, but in that one passage, I’d combined three alluring ideas: the Buddha, walking and meditation.

I’ve personally experienced something akin to a meditative state while hiking. I’ve also tried my own improvised version of walking meditation in the past. But I’d forgotten about it until I recently reread my old notebook.

About a decade ago, I wrote a report for the magazine Spectator about practicing Zen running, based on a method from Larry Shapiro’s book Zen and the Art of Running. I ran, attended zazen sessions and meditation workshops, and learned yoga-based meditation techniques.

While experimenting with Zen running, I experienced a runner’s high in my second attempt. But I got too fixated on the feeling and didn’t experience it again. I ran daily for about a year, but my performance didn’t improve much. I lost interest in racing, grew bored of my routes and eventually quit.

Even so, I came to a realization about meditation. It’s more about building a state of mind that acts as a buffer against self-defeating thoughts, rather than trying to clear the mind entirely of thoughts. (Of course, there are many forms of meditation.) I have a tendency to connect meditation with something else ー walking, in this case. To learn more, I turned to Google.

In Japan, walking meditation is commonly associated with mindfulness. But what exactly is mindfulness?

Mindfulness comes from the Buddhist term sati (in Pali) or smrti (in Sanskrit), and was first used by T. W. Rhys Davids (1843–1922) in 1881. The terms sati and smrti mean awareness, attention or keeping something in mind. Mindfulness is often associated with Vipassana meditation which itself developed from the Buddha’s teachings and was adapted into a secular method focusing on psychological and medical applications.

Our minds are constantly flooded with anxieties about the future, memories of the past and the never-ending stream of information from a 24-hour news cycle and social networks. Vipassana meditation aims to create distance from these distractions by focusing on the present. Practitioners say that it reduces stress, improves concentration and boosts emotional ups and downs. I know people who are Vipassana meditators. I have heard about its benefits. At the same time, I have long been skeptical of mindfulness trends. But maybe my problem wasn’t with mindfulness; maybe I was reacting to the way that marketing has portrayed mindfulness as a societal cure-all.

If you search for books on mindfulness, you’ll find everything from academic texts to self-help guides. There are YouTube and Tiktok videos, podcasts and meditation apps featuring so-called wellness gurus. It’s hard to know whom to trust. Dig further and two names repeatedly come up: Thich Nhat Hanh and Jon Kabat-Zinn.

Thich Nhat Hanh and Jon Kabat-Zinn are widely considered to be the godfathers of modern mindfulness in the West. Both of them drew on their deep connections with Buddhism and won widespread fame.

Nhat Hanh was a Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk. Born as Nguyen Dinh Lang in 1926 in Hue, he was ordained at age 16 and, after experiencing the Vietnam War, dedicated his life to working for peace. (He died in January 2022, at the age of 95.) Nhat Hanh, known as Thay to his followers, made Buddhist teachings on compassion and suffering easier to understand for ordinary people. In 1961 he went to the United States to study for a time at Princeton Theological Seminary, and later taught at Columbia University in New York. In 1982, he established the Plum Village Meditation Center in southern France in 1982, where he taught a style of meditation integrating Buddhist practice into daily life.

Kabat-Zinn is an academic who repackaged Buddhist contemplation practices as therapy for a secular audience nearly a half century ago. Born in 1944, he was a graduate student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and an anti-Vietnam-war protester, before creating an eight-week mindfulness-based stress-reduction course at the University of Massachusetts Medical School for patients with chronic pain. Essentially, it was mindfulness meditation as taught by the Buddha minus the explicitly Buddhist references ー or, as Kabat-Zinn puts it, “the awareness that arises from paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment and non-judgmentally”. Focusing on the breath allows the meditator to monitor the body and mind from one moment to the next, which can help in coping with physical and emotional pain.

In the 2000s, Google began offering mindfulness programs. Apple, Intel, Facebook, Nike and others followed suit. In the past two decades, mindfulness has gone mainstream. I decided to start my walking meditation research with the writings of these two key individuals.

Nhat Hanh’s 2009 book Happiness: Essential Mindfulness Practices stands out as a practical guide.

The introduction begins:

“Mindfulness is the energy of being aware and awake to the present. It is the continuous practice of touching life deeply in every moment. Practicing mindfulness does not require that we go anywhere different. We can practice mindfulness in our room or on our way from one place to another. We can do very much the same things we always do — walking, sitting, working, eating, talking — except we do them with an awareness of what we are doing. ”

The language is simple and clear. It’s as if Nhat Hanh is speaking directly to his readers. He explains that mindfulness can be practiced anywhere. Conscious breathing is a key element:

“Awareness of the breath is the essence of mindfulness. According to the Buddha, mindfulness is the source of happiness and joy.”

In another chapter, he delves into walking meditation. For ultralight hikers, it’s an encouraging sign that both breathing and walking are vital to happiness.

(For Yamatomichi Journal’s HIKING AS LIBERAL ARTS, DONI explores breathing and reflects on its essential meaning and role.)

In his section covering “Daily Practices”, Nhat Hanh writes:

“In our daily life, we breathe, but we forget that we’re breathing. The foundation of all mindfulness practice is to bring our attention to our in-breath and out-breath. This is called mindfulness of breathing, or conscious breathing. It’s very simple, but the effect can be very great. In our daily life, although our body is in one place, our mind is often in another. Paying attention to our in-breath and out-breath brings our mind back to our body. And suddenly we are there, fully present in the here and the now.”。

Nhat Hanh explains that the basics of conscious breathing are simple. Breathe through your nose, taking note of the air as it enters and leaves. While doing this, say to yourself:

“Breathing in, I know I am breathing in. Breathing out, I know I am breathing out.”

He continues:

“After a few breaths, you may want to shorten this to: ‘In, Out.’ If you follow your in-breath and out-breath all the way through, your mind is no longer thinking. Now your mind has a chance to rest. In our daily life we think too much. Giving our mind a chance to stop thinking is wonderful.”

When I tried this, my breathing became slower and deeper. I began to feel more relaxed. It was as if my parasympathetic nervous system was being activated. At one point, mid afternoon, I even drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, I felt calm and at ease. Whether from the breathing or the nap, I couldn’t say.

Next, I tried sitting meditation. Nhat Hanh believes there’s no strict posture. You can sit cross-legged or in a lotus position, seiza (on your knees) or in a chair. It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re “happy and relaxed” and comfortable.

Follow your breath and observe your thoughts and emotions without judgment, Nhat Hanh writes.

“While sitting, begin by following your in-breath and out-breath. Whenever a feeling comes up, recognize it. Whenever a thought arises, identify it and recognize it. You can learn a lot from observing what’s going on in your body and mind during the sitting meditation. Most of all, sitting is a chance for you to do nothing. You have nothing at all to do; just enjoy sitting and breathing in and out…Being alive is a miracle. Just sitting there, enjoying your in-breath and out-breath is already happiness. Since you’re breathing in and out, you know that you’re alive. That’s something worth celebrating. So sitting meditation is a way to celebrate life with your in-breath and your out-breath.”

I sat cross-legged on my bed, made myself comfortable, closed my eyes, and focused on my breath. My mind wandered after a couple of minutes. Doing nothing turns out to be surprisingly difficult. When I checked the time, not even two minutes had passed. I had planned to sit for at least 20 minutes, but it felt impossible. So I went back and reread the section on sitting meditation.

“It’s important to allow your body to relax completely. Don’t try to become a buddha. Just enjoy sitting and accept yourself as you are. Even if there’s some tension in your body, some pain in your heart, accept yourself like that. With the energy of mindfulness of breathing, you embrace your body and your mind, you allow yourself to be in a relaxed position and enjoy your breathing.”

“Don’t try to become a buddha.” I realized that I had been trying to meditate like the Buddha. Obviously, unrealistic. I went with whatever felt comfortable, and instead of forcing myself to go 20 minutes, I settled for 10.

Nhat Hanh event suggests counting:

“If you’re having trouble concentrating, counting is an excellent technique. Breathing in, count ‘one.’ Breathing out, count ‘one.’ Breathing in, count ‘two.’ Breathing out, count ‘two.’ Continue up to ten and then start counting over again.”

I tried counting my breaths right away. It reminded me of Zen running. It’s the same idea: You count each step up to ten and then start over. Counting occupies part of your mind, making it easier to focus on your breathing. When I got bored of counting, I switched to silently saying “in” and “out”, then returned to observing the breath, then went back to counting again.

The techniques helped me focus. Before I knew it, 40 minutes had passed.

I wasn’t ready to try walking meditation just yet. At least, not in the middle of a scorching summer. So I practiced mindful breathing and meditation at home: 10 minutes in the morning, 10 minutes at noon and 30 to 40 minutes at night, whenever possible. Sometimes, I practiced it on the train, during breaks or in the bath. On business trips, I closed my eyes and focused on my breath, which made traveling feel less stressful. It allowed me to briefly step away from the chaos surrounding me.

I felt like I had stumbled upon a new tool that required no money or equipment and that could be deployed anytime, anywhere. This aligned with the ultralight philosophy. I decided that it was worth trying Nhat Hanh’s walking meditation methods.