Mindfulness, I have come to understand, is good for me and good for the planet. Mindfulness is about being aware in the present, not dwelling on the past, not fearing the future. John Kabat-Zinn says of mindfulness that it is, "paying attention in a particular way; on purpose, in the present moment and non-judgmentally."
Mindfulness, when linked to connectedness with the Earth, becomes an awareness of our embodiedness, our earth connectedness.
For me, mindfulness comes with an attitude of gratefulness for life, and life's ten thousand things. Mindfulness is a happy practice.
So, walking mindfully through summer seemed like a good plan.
Yet, this summer has been punctuated by issues that confuse, invade, and disturb the mind. How can I live simply in the present moment when Palestinian children are dying? How can I not be aware that people are terrorized by Isis in Syria and Iraq—according to some news reports crucified literally? What of mindfulness when close friends and family members suffer life-threatening diseases? How to be mindful with ongoing illness? And what of climate change, never far from the front of consciousness? And planes shot down, or disappearing? None of these are insignificant issues.
Such occurrences become thought invasions that quickly turn the "horse mind" to "monkey mind." It is all too easy to play with thoughts, to mull them over again and again, to dwell on them. Worry and fearfulness are close behind. It makes mindfulness difficult. Perhaps more so, some of these issues are so important, so disturbing, so global that they make mindfulness seem self-centered. If contemplatives receive criticism it is often that to turn inward is to become careless about others, about the world we live in, about Earth herself.
To walk mindfully through summer, then, has been a challenge. To be honest, I am not sure that I have risen to the challenge satisfactorily. But, here are two things that I have found helpful.
First, I find it useful to turn the "monkey mind" from worry to prayer, to sending positive energy and loving thoughts to those in distress. I have watched with helplessness images of little children seriously injured by Israeli tank fire and bombs destroying their homes and schools. Looking at the lifeless little bodies covered in shrouds I have silently implored, "Just stop now!" But my worry and horror-filled thoughts do not help. Better to turn those thoughts to loving kindness, to hold in my mind the child smiling rather than weeping; to hold in my mind loved-ones well, and happy, and illness free, rather than racked with pain; to connect with Earth in my mind as whole and balanced and beautiful.
Second, walking mindfully is both a metaphor and a literal practice. As practice it means walking in the way that leaves the smallest footprint on earth—in terms of environmental impact, in terms of harm to other sentient beings.
As a small attempt to walk gently on earth, a few years ago I decided to try walking barefoot, or as close to barefoot as I could. I had read about the benefit to feet, and hence to general wellness, by connecting as closely to Earth as possible. I bought a pair of Vibram Fivefinger shoes—weird looking toe shoes. Back then these strange shoes raised a few eyebrows, but less so now. Since Fivefingers caught on, most of the major shoe companies now have a range of "minimalist" or "barefoot" shoes. Though a selling point was the strangeness of separating the toes, to my mind that was the least helpful aspect of the shoes. The main issue was removing as much of the protection and cushioning as possible, and to allow my body, through my feet, to reconnect with Earth. It was very strange at first! The shoes felt too flimsy, too unsafe, too vulnerable. I persisted, alternating regular shoes and boots with barefoot shoes. Since then, I have made the transition to walking barefoot as much as possible, and wearing minimalist shoes at other times. The shoes I wear now have an even better "ground feel" that Fivefingers. (See pic above; Soft Star Shoes) In fact, they make Fivefingers feel built up! For good or ill, I can no longer wear regular shoes and boots. They constrict and hurt my feet.
It has meant a new way of being on my feet. I had to notice my feet—and every stone, every twig, every groove in the sidewalk. Walking barefoot you notice. You become mindful. You watch where you walk. Walking barefoot also leaves a lighter tread—no heavy footfall. No digging in the heels. As such, it has become symbolic for me, a reminder to walk lightly on the Earth in all I do.
+Ab. Andy