Morning Meditation Walk Journal Pt II // 21 July - 27 July 2025
[Inspired by Walking Meditations by Danielle North - all quotes are taken from this book]

Monday, 21 July 2025
flow

Obeservations from this morning’s meditation walk:

• I like living timelessly [I woke up w/o an alarm and have no idea what time it is – not knowing what time it is makes me feel at peace and curious – or excited?]
• tiny toads on the sides of the paths I walked – barely bigger than the nail of my thumb
• spiderwebs in my face
• part of the walking meditation I read this morning was about an encounter with your [my] ‘…teacher or guide. Someone who has your best interest at heart.’ -> we are our own best teachers/guides – no one has [should have?] my best interests at heart more than myself

‘After a while you say to your guide, ‘I have come to you what would you like me to know?’ Your guide says your name and begins to speak, sharing the wisdom that will be helpful for you to flow with ease in your life. […] You are able to ask your guide questions and receive their answers with an open heart and good grace.’

I didn’t have any questions [will I remain questionless as I continue these morning walking meditations throughout the week?]

And one answer/insight: As long as I flow with ease in my life, every question will answer itself naturally.

I am excited to see how each of this week’s morning meditation walks will be different.

Tuesday, 22 July 2025
clarity

I feel like I am high. A mix of ‘I see everything clearly’, ‘everything is a bit blurry’, and ‘no matter what’s happening around me, I have a smile on my face’.

Today’s walking meditation focused on following a specific breathing pattern and checking how the body feels, from top to bottom. When I read it, I suspected I may not be able to remember the not complex, but still lengthy instructions. I often can’t remember by trying. I need repetition [at least that’s what I’ve been thinking and observing for the majority of my life].

As I started my walk and entered the forest, I had no difficulties recalling the instructions for the walking meditation. It started raining. I barely got wet. The dense roof of leaves high up above my head protected me. I love the sound of rain.

The rain got heavier and a few thick raindrops landed on my head, my cheeks, and my arms. So thick they immediately permeated my sweatshirt. Almost everytime I walk through rain, Unwritten by Natasha Beddingfield pops up in my head. The song has one of the most memorable hooks ever. Everything about it is true – except for one thing: my book doesn’t begin today. I started writing it last year in April.

I remember a conversation a few friends of mine had, 4 or 5 years ago, in the garden of the building where I had my first studio. The conversation was about how the effects of ketamine feel [if I remember correctly, 2 or 3 of them, who had taken it before, tried to explain how it feels to someone who never had]. They said something along the lines of ‘being wrapped in cotton wool, the world slowing down, everything feeling more angenehm.’

‘Inhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, pause, exhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, pause. Now you’re going to return to a normal breath. No counts, no longer exhales, no pauses; just letting your breath do what it naturally does and noticing how you feel now.’

I feel like I’m wrapped in cotton wool, the world slowing down, everything angenehm. The small fir cones that cover the ground massage the soles of my feet as I walk along the path that leads me out of the forest.

Wednesday, 23 July 2025 [international day of disconnecting and being at peace]
peace

Today, it was easy to use my imagination. Effortless. I didn’t [have to] think about how I could imagine what the walking meditation described. A white dove in the blue sky above me. I looked up and, right above me, found a small patch of light blue sky between thick, white, shapeless clouds.

‘As you walk and settle into your natural rhythm, the dove transforms into a small, bright white light, just hovering in front of your nose.’

I crossed the path that leads to my mom’s house and followed the bright white light [about the size of a tennis ball] into the forest. My mind was entirely empty. Feeling remote-controlled, I set one foot in front of the other, the bright light guiding me deeper into the forest. The leaves, the moss on the ground, the broken branches on the side of the path were still wet from the heavy rain the past days. It’s surprisingly chilly for mid/end of July. I like it. It’s refreshing.

‘With each step you take, your breath naturally enters your body and the white light follows your breath. A pure white light fills your body with peace and calm. As your breath naturally leaves your body, you feel the pure white light expanding the peace and calm within you.’

I walked through the forest, the paths I was walking on slowly getting wider, breathing in pure white light that filled me with peace and calm, breathing out pure white light, expanding peace and calm. I stopped at a clearing. The white light returned to hover in front of me, expanded until it filled the entire clearing, and turned into a flock of doves, flying off into the sky.

I am wondering how it is possible that today, it has been so easy to imagine. I don’t have an answer. I won’t question it. Maybe this ability will stay with me from now on. Maybe it was a one time thing, and I will look back in awe at this magical morning of Wednesday, 23/7/2025.

Thursday, 24 July 2025
strength

When I woke up, I didn’t feel good [physically]. Now, after the walk, I feel better. Not great, or maybe, even still the same – but it made feeling bad easy to tolerate. When I look back at the past weeks, I notice that there have been several Thursdays on which I didn’t feel good. I was often anxious, exhausted, unmotivated. But only in the morning, as I recall now. Is there a reason for this recurring Thursday slump? I don’t know.

What’s more important: becoming aware that it always got better throughout the day. On these past Thursdays of feeling weak, I expected the entire day to be slow and unproductive as I woke up and noticed how I felt. Only to be surprised in the evening that the day and how I felt turned out to be more pleasant and energetic than expected. I’m curious to see if it will be similar today.

I can already feel one difference: Having become aware of this pattern motivated me. I still feel some discomfort in my belly due to the nachos and cheese dip I had at the cinema last night, and the lower eyelid of my left eye is mysteriously swollen. Unlike the past Thursdays, I am excited about this day to unfold. The walking meditation fulfilled its purpose:

‘You are surrounded by beauty and nature, and you gaze in awe at the living beauty of your surroundings. As you walk […], you draw strength with every step from the sights of the trees and sounds of the birds…’

Friday, 25 July 2025
being

‘This is a meditation for just being; everything is done with ease and without outcome.’

Saturday, 26 July 2025
grounding

On this morning walk, I walked with my eyes closed. I haven’t done it since the last week of morning walking meditations in May. There is something about walking with my eyes closed that fascinates me. I think it’s about having to use my senses differently. Dealing with uncertainty. Trusting my instincts. Not worrying about obstacles. A great excercise to move through life more effortlessly.

The route I’ve been walking every morning for the past days starts with a narrow, winding path that leads into the forest. After walking this path for three, or maybe five minutes, it transitions into another path that’s wider, and straight, along closed train tracks that run through the forest. Perfect to walk with my eyes closed.

The first two or three times, I didn’t count my steps, walked rather slowly, and opened my eyes shortly after I closed them [maybe after 20 or 30 seconds]. I felt insecure. I was afraid I’d get off the path and bump into a tree. Focusing on sensing what’s under my soles did not help staying on the path [as it did when I walked with my eyes closed on my last walking meditations]. The ground was similarly different everywhere: leaves, sticks, mud, gravel – sometimes solid, sometimes soft. I set myself a goal: just like last time, I wanted to walk 237 steps with my eyes closed.

I closed my eyes, started walking, my arms stretched out in front of me to give me a feeling of security, to notice when I may get off the path, and counted my steps. When I reached 100, a leaf touched my left hand. I opened my eyes and stopped intuitively. I hadn’t gotten off the path. It was just a low hanging branch of a tree growing next to it. I closed my eyes again, started walking again, counting from 1, every step more confident than the previous one. I opened my eyes after 260 steps and noticed that I missed turning right, into the path that I’ve been taking on every walk this week.

Sunday, 27 July 2025
connection

‘You can trust life to be just as it is.’

When I sat down at the desk I used to do my homework on [or not] and opened my notebook, it started raining. Right now, I don’t know what to think of this week’s morning walking meditations. Did I enjoy them? Yes. Did I gain any new insights? Probably – I’d need to reread the journal entries.

Even if not, even if they appear useless – they’re not. Writing this reminds me of how I asked myself what my intention was when I did a week of morning walking meditations for the first time. And of the quote I wrote down two days ago.

Often, meaning reveals itself reatroactively. I am already curious how I will look back at these journal entries and walking videos in 1, 3, 5, 8, 20, 50 years. One of the main reasons why I make art, why I write, why I create every day, is to document. This incredible world [the more I think about it, the less it makes sense that all of this exists], and how my improbable existence sees it and moves through it.

It is still raining. I have no idea what time it is. The sky is bright and dark at the same time. It looks like 7PM, even though it is probably 7AM. I’ve never set an alarm this week in the morning. I never checked the time before I finished writing after returning from the walking meditation. I want to live a life as free of time as possible. Let’s see how it worked out when I reread this in 2, 3, 7 years – or when I’m 67.

Morning Meditation Walk Journal Pt II // 21 July - 27 July 2025
[Inspired by Walking Meditations by Danielle North - all quotes are taken from this book]

Monday, 21 July 2025
flow

Obeservations from this morning’s meditation walk:

• I like living timelessly [I woke up w/o an alarm and have no idea what time it is – not knowing what time it is makes me feel at peace and curious – or excited?]
• tiny toads on the sides of the paths I walked – barely bigger than the nail of my thumb
• spiderwebs in my face
• part of the walking meditation I read this morning was about an encounter with your [my] ‘…teacher or guide. Someone who has your best interest at heart.’ -> we are our own best teachers/guides – no one has [should have?] my best interests at heart more than myself

‘After a while you say to your guide, ‘I have come to you what would you like me to know?’ Your guide says your name and begins to speak, sharing the wisdom that will be helpful for you to flow with ease in your life. […] You are able to ask your guide questions and receive their answers with an open heart and good grace.’

I didn’t have any questions [will I remain questionless as I continue these morning walking meditations throughout the week?]

And one answer/insight: As long as I flow with ease in my life, every question will answer itself naturally.

I am excited to see how each of this week’s morning meditation walks will be different.

Tuesday, 22 July 2025
clarity

I feel like I am high. A mix of ‘I see everything clearly’, ‘everything is a bit blurry’, and ‘no matter what’s happening around me, I have a smile on my face’.

Today’s walking meditation focused on following a specific breathing pattern and checking how the body feels, from top to bottom. When I read it, I suspected I may not be able to remember the not complex, but still lengthy instructions. I often can’t remember by trying. I need repetition [at least that’s what I’ve been thinking and observing for the majority of my life].

As I started my walk and entered the forest, I had no difficulties recalling the instructions for the walking meditation. It started raining. I barely got wet. The dense roof of leaves high up above my head protected me. I love the sound of rain.

The rain got heavier and a few thick raindrops landed on my head, my cheeks, and my arms. So thick they immediately permeated my sweatshirt. Almost everytime I walk through rain, Unwritten by Natasha Beddingfield pops up in my head. The song has one of the most memorable hooks ever. Everything about it is true – except for one thing: my book doesn’t begin today. I started writing it last year in April.

I remember a conversation a few friends of mine had, 4 or 5 years ago, in the garden of the building where I had my first studio. The conversation was about how the effects of ketamine feel [if I remember correctly, 2 or 3 of them, who had taken it before, tried to explain how it feels to someone who never had]. They said something along the lines of ‘being wrapped in cotton wool, the world slowing down, everything feeling more angenehm.’

‘Inhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, pause, exhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, pause. Now you’re going to return to a normal breath. No counts, no longer exhales, no pauses; just letting your breath do what it naturally does and noticing how you feel now.’

I feel like I’m wrapped in cotton wool, the world slowing down, everything angenehm. The small fir cones that cover the ground massage the soles of my feet as I walk along the path that leads me out of the forest.

Wednesday, 23 July 2025 [international day of disconnecting and being at peace]
peace

Today, it was easy to use my imagination. Effortless. I didn’t [have to] think about how I could imagine what the walking meditation described. A white dove in the blue sky above me. I looked up and, right above me, found a small patch of light blue sky between thick, white, shapeless clouds.

‘As you walk and settle into your natural rhythm, the dove transforms into a small, bright white light, just hovering in front of your nose.’

I crossed the path that leads to my mom’s house and followed the bright white light [about the size of a tennis ball] into the forest. My mind was entirely empty. Feeling remote-controlled, I set one foot in front of the other, the bright light guiding me deeper into the forest. The leaves, the moss on the ground, the broken branches on the side of the path were still wet from the heavy rain the past days. It’s surprisingly chilly for mid/end of July. I like it. It’s refreshing.

‘With each step you take, your breath naturally enters your body and the white light follows your breath. A pure white light fills your body with peace and calm. As your breath naturally leaves your body, you feel the pure white light expanding the peace and calm within you.’

I walked through the forest, the paths I was walking on slowly getting wider, breathing in pure white light that filled me with peace and calm, breathing out pure white light, expanding peace and calm. I stopped at a clearing. The white light returned to hover in front of me, expanded until it filled the entire clearing, and turned into a flock of doves, flying off into the sky.

I am wondering how it is possible that today, it has been so easy to imagine. I don’t have an answer. I won’t question it. Maybe this ability will stay with me from now on. Maybe it was a one time thing, and I will look back in awe at this magical morning of Wednesday, 23/7/2025.

Thursday, 24 July 2025
strength

When I woke up, I didn’t feel good [physically]. Now, after the walk, I feel better. Not great, or maybe, even still the same – but it made feeling bad easy to tolerate. When I look back at the past weeks, I notice that there have been several Thursdays on which I didn’t feel good. I was often anxious, exhausted, unmotivated. But only in the morning, as I recall now. Is there a reason for this recurring Thursday slump? I don’t know.

What’s more important: becoming aware that it always got better throughout the day. On these past Thursdays of feeling weak, I expected the entire day to be slow and unproductive as I woke up and noticed how I felt. Only to be surprised in the evening that the day and how I felt turned out to be more pleasant and energetic than expected. I’m curious to see if it will be similar today.

I can already feel one difference: Having become aware of this pattern motivated me. I still feel some discomfort in my belly due to the nachos and cheese dip I had at the cinema last night, and the lower eyelid of my left eye is mysteriously swollen. Unlike the past Thursdays, I am excited about this day to unfold. The walking meditation fulfilled its purpose:

‘You are surrounded by beauty and nature, and you gaze in awe at the living beauty of your surroundings. As you walk […], you draw strength with every step from the sights of the trees and sounds of the birds…’

Friday, 25 July 2025
being

‘This is a meditation for just being; everything is done with ease and without outcome.’

Saturday, 26 July 2025
grounding

On this morning walk, I walked with my eyes closed. I haven’t done it since the last week of morning walking meditations in May. There is something about walking with my eyes closed that fascinates me. I think it’s about having to use my senses differently. Dealing with uncertainty. Trusting my instincts. Not worrying about obstacles. A great excercise to move through life more effortlessly.

The route I’ve been walking every morning for the past days starts with a narrow, winding path that leads into the forest. After walking this path for three, or maybe five minutes, it transitions into another path that’s wider, and straight, along closed train tracks that run through the forest. Perfect to walk with my eyes closed.

The first two or three times, I didn’t count my steps, walked rather slowly, and opened my eyes shortly after I closed them [maybe after 20 or 30 seconds]. I felt insecure. I was afraid I’d get off the path and bump into a tree. Focusing on sensing what’s under my soles did not help staying on the path [as it did when I walked with my eyes closed on my last walking meditations]. The ground was similarly different everywhere: leaves, sticks, mud, gravel – sometimes solid, sometimes soft. I set myself a goal: just like last time, I wanted to walk 237 steps with my eyes closed.

I closed my eyes, started walking, my arms stretched out in front of me to give me a feeling of security, to notice when I may get off the path, and counted my steps. When I reached 100, a leaf touched my left hand. I opened my eyes and stopped intuitively. I hadn’t gotten off the path. It was just a low hanging branch of a tree growing next to it. I closed my eyes again, started walking again, counting from 1, every step more confident than the previous one. I opened my eyes after 260 steps and noticed that I missed turning right, into the path that I’ve been taking on every walk this week.

Sunday, 27 July 2025
connection

‘You can trust life to be just as it is.’

When I sat down at the desk I used to do my homework on [or not] and opened my notebook, it started raining. Right now, I don’t know what to think of this week’s morning walking meditations. Did I enjoy them? Yes. Did I gain any new insights? Probably – I’d need to reread the journal entries.

Even if not, even if they appear useless – they’re not. Writing this reminds me of how I asked myself what my intention was when I did a week of morning walking meditations for the first time. And of the quote I wrote down two days ago.

Often, meaning reveals itself reatroactively. I am already curious how I will look back at these journal entries and walking videos in 1, 3, 5, 8, 20, 50 years. One of the main reasons why I make art, why I write, why I create every day, is to document. This incredible world [the more I think about it, the less it makes sense that all of this exists], and how my improbable existence sees it and moves through it.

It is still raining. I have no idea what time it is. The sky is bright and dark at the same time. It looks like 7PM, even though it is probably 7AM. I’ve never set an alarm this week in the morning. I never checked the time before I finished writing after returning from the walking meditation. I want to live a life as free of time as possible. Let’s see how it worked out when I reread this in 2, 3, 7 years – or when I’m 67.