Walking (the Dog) Meditation

“Your mind is like an untrained puppy, wandering all over the place, often making you miserable,” writes my good friend, MJ Ryan in The Happiness Makeover.

She goes on to say that training our mind is a lot like potty training a puppy; we must be aware of where our mind goes and put it back in the place where we want it to go. Then that neurological pathway becomes more automatic and we can become happier, more grateful, etc.

Intellectually I know that meditating, training my mind to be still and to go to a peaceful place is beneficial for all kinds of reasons. Yet, like eating green leafy vegetables and flossing my teeth and so many other things that are good for me, I resist.

Meditation is especially tough because the traditional idea of meditation involves sitting still (even better, in a lotus position, which is comfortable for about 30 seconds) and clearing my mind—two things that seem just about impossible for my overwhelmed, mind-chattering, multi-tasking, Type-A self.

Which is exactly why I NEED to meditate.

So, getting back to the disparity between puppies and meditation, I can see a little irony in the fact that I have decided to combine the two:

Several years ago I was at a wonderful “mindfulness” spa that taught a variety of meditation classes, including “walking meditation.”

Walking meditation is a way to meditate in movement. The experience of walking is the focus and instead of repeating a mantra, or struggling to “clear your mind,” you keep your awareness on the act of walking.

I’ve invented a new meditation—Walking the Dog Meditation.

This is how it goes:

Step One: Go to your computer and check e-mail and try to write and get busy and anxious with all the gazillions of things you have to do today.

Step Two: Dog wanders into your office, jumps on you, grabs your running shoe, goes back and forth to you and the door in an obsessive, frantic way with guilt-producing look of neediness.

Step Three: You realize you will never get anything done until you walk the dog.

Step Four: You don’t really feel like a walk, and you have way too many things to do, but you take the dog out anyway. You can't avoid looking around at the blue sky and the trees and feeling the sun on your skin and, in an instant, you realize what a gorgeous day it is and how lucky you are to have the time and freedom and healthy body to able to walk the dog.

Step Five: You thank God (or thank Dog) for this beautiful day, for the happy little dog that is totally enjoying living in the moment--relishing the simple act of peeing on every bush and pole--and for all the other blessings in your life.

Step Six: You walk, and as you walk, you might repeat a mantra or think of all the things you are grateful for or you may decide that this is a time to relax and not have to think at all.

Step Seven: If you decide to let all your problems go, very soon, and sometimes immediately, an answer to said problems will pop into your head—a genius solution that only the space of nothingness in your mind could allow this amazing, brilliant, extraordinary idea to burst forward.

Step Eight: You come home. Dog is exhausted and ready to sleep by your side and be your muse, while you are relaxed, invigorated, and ready to go forward with amazing idea.

This is my perfect meditation.