Still, in movement
When I used to travel to San Francisco for work, I always stole away to trek up the steep hill to Grace Cathedral’s labyrinth. The first time, I edged my toe inside, reverence holding me back from leaping in. Then I walked, slowly, trusting it would deliver me to its center and then back out. The noise of the day fell away, and I was here, walking, breathing, still in movement.
Some historians believe that labyrinths increase in number during times of upheaval. I’ve certainly sought them out more in moments of uncertainty, when I needed a physical process to help rock me into myself. Labyrinths are more common than I thought. I’ve felt their gravitational pull along riverside art strolls in Vermont, at retreat centers (of course), but also in town parks and people’s backyards.
I don’t talk a lot about my spiritual anchors. The first time I put a Buddha figure in my yard, I found a way to minimize its presence. “Oh, it helps me remember to be present,” I’d tell people who asked. In those early days, my spiritual practice felt vulnerable, so I protected it because it was the thing that was setting me free.
Labyrinths, too, I kept mostly private. But this spring, we installed one on our property in Vermont. During construction, my family was visiting, and my seven-year-old nephew began calling it “Auntie Beth’s temple.” He repeated this over a few days. I shrugged it off, not wanting to make too much of it. And each time, I felt that quiet internal agreement. Recognition. And gratitude for a child who could easily speak its purpose out loud.
How to do a walking meditation
Walking meditations give our minds an anchor to help calm the chatter. Even when I’m not doing a formal practice, when I’m stuck, a walk is an almost sure-fire way to find clarity. And you don’t need a labyrinth or a temple to walk mindfully. Any stretch of carpet, wood floor, forest, sidewalk, or backyard will do. If you’d like to try it, here’s a brief guide:
Find a stretch between 10 and 30 feet.
Gather yourself, breathe in your setting, and softly name your surroundings to yourself.
Walk slowly, step…by…step. Feel your feet moving across the ground, gravity holding you steady, your legs responding — movement that doesn’t need instruction.
Around this steadying point, watch what arises. Maybe it’s boredom, a strong emotion, an urge to sit down, a thought or sensation, maybe insight. Whatever arrives, just notice it as it comes and goes between the steps.
When you reach the end, turn around and repeat the practice.
P.S. If you want to find a labyrinth to walk, check out the worldwide locator.