Meditation Pledge: Sunday Sounds

When I walk, I focus on the sights, sounds, and sensations of being outdoors. I had tried to concentrate on the feeling of walking, to make it a true walking meditation, but I find that walking is so challenging for me--I can feel the way I wobble along, with my muscles and bones just not working in concert to move me along, and know that I've always found walking a challenge. That's not to say it always hurts, though sometimes it does, but that I don't walk smoothly or easily. Not only trained doctors and physical therapists notice it right away, but people have asked me why I limp all my life. Now I know why. And if I concentrate on my movement--the feel of my left foot dragging, my right hip pulling, my upper back tightening, my knees slipping backwards, and the way I can never walk straight and can easily stumble on twigs--I start to get stressful, depressed, self-critical. That is not meditative or mindful.

And so I watch and listen. And today I noticed that walking on a Sunday is so different from my weekday walks, when children are being ferried to school and houses being emptied of inhabitants heading off to work; there are lots of waves and quick hellos, maybe a longer conversation with the few stay-at-homers. But otherwise, the neighborhood is still and quiet. Well, of people. Because there are squirrels scurrying around preparing for winter, water flowing in our creek, wind blowing down the leaves. By myself, I notice these things. And how one day it was so muggy that the air was almost visible, and on another how the wind came in refreshing spurts making it almost cold in the shadows of the trees despite the warmth of the sun. And then there's that tree that is gradually turning a wonderful red, and a yellow tree right behind it now. But also a tree--I'm not sure what it is--with it's almost spring-like pink balls of flowers.

But on Sundays, I don't notice nature as much. I see people in their yards, fewer cars going back and forth, kids wandering looking for other kids to play with, adults doing household chores in the garage, families preparing to go out for the day. There was even a chorus of various dogs singing to one another because they are happy to be out in the yards. And then all these disembodied voices coming from open windows--the sound of a mom yelling at her child to get ready, the theme song of a tv show starting, a couple searching around the house trying to find some lost thing, a general murmur from kitchen windows as the breakfast dishes are cleaned.

I like hearing the neighborhood alive.

But I like being alone too. And I'll miss it this week because it looks like it's going to rain for five days straight.

But, who knows, that'll be something new and I might enjoy walking in the rain. I wonder how that will change the neighborhood?