Chapter 8: Walking Slowly

The Race to the Station

Chiara is thirty-three and works in an office near the centre of town. Every morning, she leaves her flat at the last possible moment and walks quickly to the train station, twelve minutes away. She walks with her phone in her hand, reading messages, checking the train times and answering a colleague's question, glancing up only to cross roads. She weaves between other people on the pavement, sighs at slow walkers and feels a small rush of irritation at every red traffic light.

By the time she reaches the station, her shoulders are tight, her breath is short and her mind is already at her desk. The train ride is more of the same: more messages, more checking. When she arrives at work, she feels as if she has already done a day's worth of rushing, and the day has not even begun.

One morning, her phone's battery is dead. She has no choice but to walk to the station without it. At first, she feels almost lost, her hand reaching again and again for a phone that is not working. Then she notices other things. The air is cool and smells of rain. A man is opening the shutters of a shop and humming. The trees along the road have small new leaves. Her feet are making a quiet, steady rhythm on the pavement. She arrives at the station a minute later than usual, and she feels, to her surprise, less tired than on any morning she can remember.

Walking is something most of us do every day without thinking about it. We walk to get somewhere, and our minds are usually already at the destination. Zen has a different way of walking, practised in meditation halls for centuries, in which walking is not just a way of getting somewhere but a practice in itself. This chapter explores that practice and how it can change the way we move through our days.

Walking Between Sittings

In Zen monasteries and meditation halls, periods of seated meditation are usually separated by periods of walking meditation. In Japanese, this walking is called kinhin. After sitting for thirty or forty minutes, the people in the hall stand up, and for some minutes they walk together slowly, in a line, around the room or along a corridor. Then they return to their seats and sit again.

Kinhin has practical uses. It gives the body a chance to move after a long period of stillness, which helps blood flow and eases stiff legs and backs. It also helps people stay awake and alert. But it is not simply a break. Kinhin is understood as a continuation of zazen in movement. The same quality of attention that is practised while sitting is carried into walking. The mind stays present, now with the body in motion.

In this way, kinhin forms a kind of bridge between the stillness of sitting and the movement of everyday life. In sitting, we practise being present while the body is still. In daily life, we must be present while the body is busy: walking, working, talking. Kinhin is a middle step. It is movement simple enough that we can give it full attention, and yet it is movement, not stillness. It teaches us that presence does not belong only to the cushion.

Walking meditation is found in many Buddhist traditions, not only in Zen, and in other contemplative traditions as well. People in many cultures have long known that walking can calm and clear the mind. Zen's particular contribution is a simple, careful form of walking that can be learned in a few minutes and practised for a lifetime.

There is something quietly powerful about walking with others in this way. In a meditation hall, a line of people walks slowly together in silence, each person paying attention to their own steps, yet all moving at the same pace. Nobody leads in the usual sense, and nobody is left behind. Many people who have experienced this say that it gives a feeling of belonging that is hard to find elsewhere, a sense of being alone with one's own mind and, at the same time, not alone at all.

How Kinhin Is Done

Kinhin is practised in slightly different ways in different Zen communities. Here is a simple description that captures the common elements.

Stand upright, with your weight balanced evenly on both feet. Let your spine be straight, your shoulders relaxed and your head balanced, as in sitting. In many Zen communities, the hands are held together at the front of the body, at about the level of the lower chest or the top of the belly. A common way is to make a loose fist with one hand, with the thumb inside, and to cover it gently with the other hand, keeping the forearms roughly level. If this feels awkward, you can simply let your hands hang naturally or rest them together in front of you.

Let your eyes rest on the floor a little way ahead, as in sitting, without looking at anything in particular. Then begin to walk. In some communities, kinhin is very slow: each step moves forward only about half the length of your own foot, and one step is taken with each full breath. In others, especially in some schools that use koans, kinhin is brisk, almost a quick walk. Both are valid. For most people beginning on their own, a slow, natural pace is a good place to start.

As you walk, pay attention to the sensations of walking: the lifting of one foot, its movement through the air, its placing on the floor, the shifting of weight from one leg to the other. Feel the floor under your feet. Notice the balance of the body. When the mind wanders, as it will, return to the feeling of the feet.

In a meditation hall, people walk in a line, one behind the other, keeping a steady distance. At home, you can walk back and forth along a short path, perhaps ten or fifteen steps long, turning slowly at each end. There is no need to go anywhere. The whole point is that you are not going anywhere. You are simply walking.

Why Walk Slowly?

Walking slowly can feel strange at first, even a little silly. Most of us are used to walking quickly and purposefully. So why would anyone walk slowly on purpose?

The first reason is that slowing down lets us notice. When we walk quickly, the details of walking disappear. We do not feel our feet, our balance or the ground. When we slow down, these details reappear. We discover that walking, which we take for granted, is an extraordinary and complex act, involving countless small adjustments of muscles, joints and balance. Slowing down turns an automatic action back into a conscious experience.

The second reason is that walking slowly calms the mind. The pace of our walking and the pace of our thinking seem to be connected. When we rush, our thoughts tend to rush too. When we slow our steps, our thoughts often slow as well. Many people who find seated meditation difficult discover that slow walking settles their minds more easily, perhaps because the body has something gentle to do.

The third reason is that walking is a practice that is easy to bring into daily life. We cannot always sit down and meditate, but we walk many times a day: from room to room, to the bus stop, along corridors at work, around a shop. Each of these walks can become a moment of presence, if we choose. Practising slow walking in a quiet place makes it easier to bring a little of the same attention to these everyday walks.

The fourth reason is that walking can help when the mind is restless or the body is agitated. On days when sitting still feels impossible, when the body is full of nervous energy or the mind will not settle, walking slowly can be a gentler way in. Many teachers suggest that, on such days, a period of walking meditation can be a good preparation for sitting, or even a replacement for it.

Walking in Daily Life

You do not need to walk as slowly as in kinhin to bring presence to walking in daily life. In fact, walking very slowly on a busy pavement would be impractical and might get in other people's way. What you can bring to daily walking is the quality of kinhin: attention to the body, the feet and the surroundings, instead of being lost in thought or in a phone.

One simple way is to choose certain walks each day as practice walks. It might be the walk from your door to your car, from the bus stop to your workplace, or from your desk to the kitchen. During these walks, put your phone away, let your thoughts go and feel your feet. Notice the ground under you, the air around you and the sounds of the place. Walk at a normal pace, but walk with your whole body and mind.

Another way is to use particular places as reminders. Some people make a practice of walking up and down stairs with attention, feeling each step. Others use doorways: each time they pass through a door, they take one conscious breath and notice that they are arriving in a new space. These small practices take no extra time, but they bring many small moments of presence into a day.

A third way is to take an occasional walk with no destination. Many people only walk to get somewhere. But walking without a goal, simply for the sake of walking, in a park, along a quiet street or in the countryside, can be deeply refreshing. On such walks, you can practise beginner's mind, as in the last chapter, looking at the world around you as if for the first time.

Some meditation teachers encourage people to treat each step as a small arrival. The idea is that each step is not just a movement toward somewhere else, but a complete arrival in this moment, here. When we walk this way, the walk itself becomes the destination. This does not mean we never get anywhere. Chiara still caught her train. But she arrived having actually lived the twelve minutes, rather than having rushed through them.

Walking and the Senses

Walking with attention is not only about the feet. It can also be a wonderful way to open the senses.

As you walk, you can notice sounds: footsteps, voices, birds, traffic, wind in trees, your own breath. You can notice smells: rain on pavement, bread from a bakery, cut grass, the sea. You can notice the feeling of air on your skin, warm or cold, still or moving. You can notice light and shadow, colour and movement. Each of these is a door into the present moment.

You do not need to notice everything at once. You might choose one sense for part of a walk. For five minutes, notice only sounds. For the next five, notice only what you see at ground level, or only colours. This kind of playful attention keeps the walk fresh and helps you discover how much is happening around you that you usually miss.

Walking with attention in nature can be especially nourishing. Many people find that time among trees, near water or in open spaces helps them feel calmer and more refreshed. Researchers have studied the effects of time in green spaces on mood and stress, and while the findings are not all the same and the reasons are still debated, many studies have reported small benefits. You do not need research to try it, though. A slow walk under trees, with attention, is its own evidence.

Walking with attention in a city can also be rich. Cities are full of life, sound and detail. A walk through a busy street, taken with full presence rather than with a phone in hand, can reveal faces, buildings, small gardens, street sounds and moments of human kindness that we normally hurry past. Zen does not belong only in quiet places. It belongs wherever you are.

When Walking Is Difficult

Not everyone can walk easily, and some people cannot walk at all. If you use a wheelchair, walk with a stick or frame, have pain when walking or tire quickly, you may wonder whether this chapter is for you. It is.

The heart of walking meditation is not walking itself, but attention to the body in movement. If you use a wheelchair, you can practise in the same spirit by paying attention to the sensations of moving: your hands on the wheels, the feeling of the chair rolling, the changes in the ground beneath you, the air on your face. Some people call this rolling meditation. If you walk with a stick or frame, you can make the stick part of the practice, noticing its contact with the ground, its rhythm and the support it gives you.

If walking is painful, you can practise for very short periods, even a few steps, or you can practise standing meditation instead. Stand upright, with your feet hip-width apart, knees slightly soft, and pay attention to the body standing: the feet on the ground, the balance, the small movements that keep you upright, the breath. You can hold onto a chair or a wall for support. Standing practice can be just as rich as walking.

And if you cannot move much at all, you can practise by paying attention to whatever small movements you can make, such as the movement of the breath, of the hands, of the head turning. The aim of all these practices is the same: to be present in the body, as it is, now.

If you have a health condition that affects your movement or balance, it is wise to check with a doctor or physiotherapist before beginning any new walking practice, and to practise in a safe place where you will not fall.

Three Lives on Foot

Leon is forty-five and works as a postman. He walks for many hours each day, carrying a heavy bag through streets he knows by heart. For years, he walked with his mind elsewhere, thinking about his problems, counting the hours until the end of his shift. After a back injury, a physiotherapist encouraged him to pay closer attention to his posture and his steps while he worked. Leon began to notice how he was walking: the way he hunched under the bag, the tension in his shoulders. As he paid more attention, he began to notice other things too: the seasons changing in front gardens, the faces of the people he delivered to, the rhythm of his own feet. His work did not become lighter, but he says it became "less of a blur".

Ruth is sixty-six and recently had a hip replacement. Walking, which she used to do without thought, became slow and careful. At first she felt frustrated and old. Then, during her recovery, a friend who practises Zen suggested that she treat her slow walking as practice rather than as a problem. Ruth began to walk with full attention, feeling each step, noticing the balance of her body and the support of her stick. She found that the slow walks became calming instead of frustrating, and she noticed details in her neighbourhood she had never seen. As her hip healed and she walked faster, she kept one slow walk a week.

Kwabena is twelve and finds it very hard to sit still in class. He fidgets, taps and is often scolded. His teacher, who has done some training in mindful movement, introduces a short walking practice for the whole class: before a difficult lesson, everyone stands up and walks slowly in a circle around the classroom for two minutes, feeling their feet and breathing. Kwabena, who could never sit still for meditation, loves it. He says it is "like sitting, but for people who cannot sit". He finds it a little easier to concentrate afterwards, and he starts walking slowly on his own when he feels restless at home.

Chiara, from the beginning of this chapter, makes her morning walk to the station a practice walk three days a week. On those days, she keeps her phone in her bag until she reaches the platform. She does not walk slowly, but she walks with attention, feeling her feet and noticing the street. She finds that on those days she arrives at work calmer and that the first hour of her work goes better. On the other days, she still sometimes reads messages as she walks. But she has discovered that she has a choice.

Leon, Ruth, Kwabena and Chiara walked at very different speeds, for very different reasons. What they shared was the discovery that walking, done with attention, can be more than getting from one place to another. It can be a way of being present in the body and in the world.

Practical Steps

First, try a few minutes of kinhin. Once a day, perhaps after a period of sitting, walk slowly back and forth along a short path for five minutes, paying attention to the feeling of your feet and your balance.

Second, choose daily practice walks. Pick one or two walks you make every day and turn them into practice: no phone, no music, just walking with attention.

Third, use doorways and stairs as reminders. Each time you pass through a door or climb a staircase, take one conscious breath and notice your body moving.

Fourth, take a walk without a destination. Once a week, go for a walk simply to walk. Let yourself wander, noticing the world around you with beginner's mind.

Fifth, play with the senses. On a walk, choose one sense to focus on for a few minutes, then switch to another. Notice how much you usually miss.

Sixth, adapt the practice to your body. If walking is difficult, practise standing meditation, rolling meditation or very short walks. The quality of attention matters more than the distance or speed.

A Short Practice: Ten Slow Steps

This practice takes about five to ten minutes. You can do it indoors in a quiet room or outdoors on a flat, safe path.

Find a space where you can walk about ten steps in a straight line. Stand at one end. Take a moment to feel your feet on the ground and the weight of your body. Let your arms hang naturally, or hold your hands together loosely in front of you. Take three breaths.

Now, very slowly, begin to lift your right foot. Notice the moment when the heel leaves the ground, then the rest of the foot. Feel the foot moving forward through the air. Feel it touch the ground again, heel first or flat, and feel the weight shift onto it. Then notice the left foot beginning to lift. Continue in this way, step by step, as slowly as you comfortably can.

You may find it helpful to say silently "lifting, moving, placing" with each step, to keep your attention close to the movement. If you lose your balance a little, that is fine. Notice it, steady yourself and continue. Slow walking can feel wobbly at first, and that wobble is part of the practice.

When you reach the end of your path, stop. Stand still for a breath. Then turn slowly, paying attention to the turning itself, and walk back in the same way.

Walk back and forth for five or ten minutes. When your mind wanders, notice it, and return to the feeling of your feet. At the end, stand still for a few breaths and notice how your body and mind feel. Then walk away at a normal pace, and see whether you can carry a little of the attention with you.

If you have trouble with balance, practise beside a wall or a table that you can touch for support, or practise standing meditation instead.

Questions People Often Ask

"Is walking meditation as valuable as sitting?" In Zen, both are part of practice, and both are valuable. Sitting allows a deep stillness that walking does not. Walking brings presence into movement, which sitting does not. Many teachers encourage both. If sitting is very difficult for you, walking can be your main practice, at least for a while. What matters is the quality of attention.

"Can I do walking meditation while listening to music?" You can enjoy walks with music, and many people do. But walking meditation, in the sense of this chapter, works best in silence, because the aim is to pay attention to the sensations of walking and to the world around you. Music tends to draw attention away from these. You might try alternating: some walks with music, some walks in silence, and notice the difference.

"I feel self-conscious walking slowly in front of others. What can I do?" This is very common. Slow kinhin is best practised in a private space or in a group where everyone is doing it. In public, you can walk at a normal pace with attention. Nobody needs to know that you are practising. Over time, many people find that their self-consciousness fades, as they become more interested in the experience of walking than in how they look.

"Can walking meditation help with sleep or worry at night?" Some people find that a few minutes of slow walking in a quiet room before bed helps them leave the busyness of the day behind. If you wake in the night with a racing mind, getting up and walking slowly for a few minutes, in dim light, may sometimes help more than lying in bed fighting your thoughts. If sleep problems are severe or lasting, though, it is wise to talk with a doctor.

Chapter Summary

Most of us walk with our minds already at our destination. In Zen, walking meditation, called kinhin, is practised between periods of sitting. It continues the attention of zazen in movement and forms a bridge between stillness and daily life. Kinhin can be slow, with one small step per breath, or brisk, and it is done with attention to the feet, the balance and the body.

Walking slowly helps us notice, calms the mind, is easy to bring into daily life and can help when sitting is hard. In daily life, we can walk at a normal pace with attention, use doors and stairs as reminders, take walks without destinations and open the senses. People who cannot walk easily can practise standing or rolling meditation in the same spirit.

In the next chapter, we bring the same attention to another everyday act that we often rush through: eating.