Walking mindfully in the desert

Meditation circle in the setting desert sun.

Walking mindfully in the desert, I am maintaining my focus on the present by concentrating on the sensation of the rocks upon which I step as I walk.  It is a form of meditation and the purpose of this walking meditation is to practice keeping my mind focused on the present and to be more aware of my surroundings.  The desert floor is predominantly covered with a very dark color volcanic rock, I believe it might be rhyolite, sprinkled with the bright white of quartzite.  I would also guess that it is volcanic debris that fell like rain rather than part of a lava flow because the pieces are generally small and rather sharp against the bottom of my feet.  I can easily feel the individual stones through the soles of my moccasins. The quartzite is beautiful against the dark volcanic ash. There are the

occasional large pieces, but it is mostly in patches of small pieces that tend to distract me as I walk. When I catch myself admiring a piece of quartzite on the ground ahead of me I remind myself that my mind is wandering and return to concentrating on the sensation of the rocks under my feet. 

It is easy to be distracted. It is very human to be distracted.  We have such a strong propensity to spend so much of our time in the past or future, which in reality do not exist – the past is gone and the future is not yet. If our minds are not engaged in a current activity, they are reliving the past or thinking about the future. We get so involved in thinking about what we could have done differently in a past situation or worrying about, dreaming of, or planning for the future that we totally miss the present. Some Buddhist schools call this “monkey brains” because our brains are jumping around and racing from one place or idea to another with such agitation that we’re like a cage full of monkeys jumping frantically around trying to get out.

The meditation circle that I fashioned near our desert campsite isn’t all that big, so it only takes about forty minutes, but it is a good meditation.  I’m aware of the coolness of the air even though there is a warm southwestern Arizona sun in the totally cloudless sky.  I am aware of someone walking by. They pause.  Most of our neighbors in this part of the RTR (Rubber Tramp Rendezvous) do some form of meditation, but there are always those passing by who wonder about me walking around a spiral pathway seemingly out of touch with the world around me. When I realize that I’m thinking about explaining to them that I’m actually more in touch with the world around me,  I call myself back to my feet.  Sounds around me can be distracting and I want to check them out, but I stop myself.  That’s okay. That’s why we call it ‘practice’. 

At the end of the walk I stand a moment and finish singing “om mani padme hum”, which, as far as I know, has no actual translation but is a spiritual “sound”.  Then I look up.   Ahead of me is our twenty-foot camper trailer home, Nitsitapiisinni, which means “our way of life” in the Blackfeet language.    Beyond are campers, vans, car, cargo vans, cargo trailers, vintage trailers and RV of all shapes and sizes. Beyond our village of nomads are magnificent mountains like a giant mural on a wall of the clearest, richest blue. They are beginning to take on some pink and orange highlights.  Sunset is close and the mountains which I’m facing are to our east.  I turn around.  More mountains. These mountains, to our west, are only a silhouette because the sun appears to be sitting on top of them just before it drops out of sight.

“This is my little piece of paradise,” I think to myself.  I smile. I think that a lot. Probably because it is true.  

As the light begins to fade and the sun puts on its final magnificent show of the day, I walk slowly toward Nitsitapiisinni.  I notice that I am still aware of the rocks under my feet.  I am aware of Pamela and a friend, who very well might be joining us for dinner, talking and laughing.  I am aware of people moving around, building campfires, cooking meals outside, gathering together for fellowship.  I am not reliving the past – good or bad.  I am not thinking about the future, which seems only to be filled with fear.  I am enjoying my little piece of paradise - life here and now – without distraction or baggage.  I am totally in the present and it is good.