Silent Walking
Silent Walking, one of the latest hot topics to take the internet by storm, sure sounded good to me. I love walking and try to get out almost every day for a walk or better yet a long hike. And, with my inclination towards introversion, I find intervals of silence rejuvenating.
I learned that the Silent Walking trend started with a June 2023 Tik Tok post by content creator Mady Maio. She was directed by her dietician to walk 30 minutes a day for exercise and then was challenged by her boyfriend to head out without her earbuds, without listening to music or a podcast.
Much to her surprise, Mady noticed that after two minutes of anxiety-producing, mind-racing, mental-mayhem she suddenly entered a flow state where everything went quiet, where she could hear herself. After 30 minutes of quiet trail-traipsing all traces of brain fog lifted. She began to experience a clarity that she had long searched for.
Maio’s post, subsequently removed from Tik Tok, collected 50,000 views and launched a trend that has attracted a number of commentators extolling the benefits of silent walking. One, Daryl Austin, wrote that these benefits included reducing stress, lowering blood pressure and heart rate, improving blood glucose levels, boosting the immune system and improving sleep. What a deal!
On the emotional front Austin and other commentators have reported that silent walking can reduce negative ruminations and decrease anxiety and depression. In terms of personal growth, silent walking may increase self-awareness, facilitate a deeper connection to our core self, lead to better life decisions, and increase a sense of purpose. Terrific. Sign me up!
Other commentators have suggested that silent walking might improve cognitive function by improving focus, enhancing intuition, facilitating problem solving and boosting creativity. Some researchers have found that intervals of silence might even support neurogenesis. Wow! Who can’t use some new brain cells?
Still other commentators have added that silent walking is essentially a rebrand of “walking meditation” a traditional Zen Buddhist practice employed for centuries to cultivate mindfulness and facilitate spiritual growth. For some people, walking meditation may even be a better route to connecting with their inner self. Sounds good to me. My knees can’t handle cross-legged sitting.
Mady’s main how-to suggestion was simply to leave the earbuds at home. Some commentators have added that it is useful to notice things in the environment while others advised getting in synch with breathing.
My clicky-twitchy, Googling index finger was worn out from all information gathering. I figured that if I was going to really understand silent walking, I better lace up my boots and head outside for my own sylvan stroll.
First Steps
Taking my usual route, I walked through the village park, down a seldom used road, along a path to a beaver pond, on a loop through the woods, and then back home on a gravel road. Instead of focusing on distance and pace I would attempt to follow the guidelines for silent walking.
The first step, disconnecting from earbuds, was easy for me. I never wear them. I’m a birder so when I walk I listen for calls and songs. Who knows? I might hear a rarity.
I settled into a comfortable, easy natural pace. Step, step, breathe, breathe. Following the guideline to notice things around me, I scanned for the color green. Because it was early January I didn’t think I would see much even though it had been a mild winter.
Immediately, I spotted a faint stripe of green moss tracing down the middle of the old road. In the surrounding woods I saw moss growing on rocks—bright green, forest green, and of course moss green. On one rock there were at least three shades of moss green, one muted, one bright, and one with a tinged with yellow. Green stems of grass poked through the leaf debris, still growing, still verdant. An evergreen fern with delicate, variegated fronds splayed across the leaf covered ground.
In the woods I noticed the dark green short needles of a hemlock, the longer, lighter green needles of a white pine, the blue-green boughs of a Colorado spruce, and the deep green branches of a Norway spruce. How many shades of forest green are there?
Surrounded by leaves and fronds and boughs of green, all of it signifying verdant life in mid-winter, I felt a smidgeon of joy, a dash of wonder, a teaspoon of awe, and a sprinkle of gratitude. Was this the recipe for shifting into a flow state?
Kindling
Walking down the path to the beaver pond the terrain changed to long abandoned hay fields, old patches of meadow, clumps of brush, and scattered second growth trees. Sensitized to color by my search for green, I began to tune in to all the shades of tan and brown around me. I noticed that the tall dead stems of field grass still displayed a warm tan hue. I saw brown stems and leaves of goldenrod topped by light brown, seed-covered plumes. I saw dried, faded blossoms of Queen Anne’s lace.
A mosaic of tan and brown leaves spread across the ground. A beech tree next to the path wore a coat of crinkly, light brown leaves. At the beaver pond the sunlight broke through the clouds illuminating a panorama of tan and brown marsh grasses, weeds, and cattails—so much beauty in a view I normally ignored.
I wondered if noticing the color green kindled sensitivity to all these shades of tan and brown? Was this a progressive activation of brain circuity? Was it an example of focusing on one thing which opened the mind to truly see other things? I could almost feel little neurons reaching out to make new connections. Was this the neurogenesis effect of silent walking?
Invitation
Borrowing a mindfulness inducing technique from Forest Bathing, I gave myself an invitation to observe movement around me. Along the path I saw supple tan leaves of grass and stems of golden rod sway with each puff of wind. Puff, sway, settle, sway. Sometimes the leaves and stems moved in a full arc, sometimes they moved just a fraction of an inch, but they were always in motion with the wind.
At the tree tops where the unimpeded wind blew in stronger gusts, the sugar maple branches rocked back and forth. The boughs of the white pines absorbed the energy of the wind turning it into a rolling, fluid dance. The lacy twigs of a gray birch fluttered gracefully.
Water flowed nearby, a tiny runoff rivulet, the motion barely detectable, seeping downhill merging into a rippling miniature stream that wound and twisted and found its way to the creek that fed the beaver pond where the water flowed continuously over dam of mud and branches. All around me water moved downhill, constantly, relentlessly, shaping, forming, and nurturing the landscape.
In the sky where gray clouds scuttled downwind, three black crows flapped lazily, steadily, underway to a destination known only to them. From the branches of a dead tree, a flock of cedar waxwings took flight, moving in a loose synchrony, scanning for their next food source. In a thicket to my right, three chickadees flitted from branch to branch. A rabbit hopped into a thicket. Two deer bounded off, white flag tails flashing.
Movement all around me and I’m moving too, stepping steadily, arms swinging, chest contracting and expanding, neck and head loose. I am moving naturally, in resonance with a world filled with movement. I feel joined to my surroundings. Is this what is meant by a deep sense of connection to nature?
Silence
The wind sighed through the boughs of a white pine. Strong gusts whooshed and roared through the bare branches of the ash trees creating a clattering like sailboat masts in a storm bound harbor. Striding directly into the wind I heard a loud roar rushing by both ears. Nearby the creek tumbled and splashed over rocks and fallen trees. Pausing, I discerned sounds within the splashing—burbling, trickling, bubbling— ever-changing water music.
A faint, high, wiry see-see-see call carried through the cold air. Pausing I heard it again; the call of a golden-crowned kinglet, a tiny, feisty, olive gray songbird adapted to survive in the winter. I heard a soft tseet-tseet, the flock call of a white throated sparrow, another winter hardy bird. A chickadee darted out of the brush, perched on a branch near the trail, checked me out, and announced my presence to all nearby birds and animals with a cheerful, chik-a dee-dee-dee.
Listening to the wind sighing, the water splashing, and the birds calling, I felt my muscles relax, forehead tension smooth out, neck and shoulders loosen. Maybe, the sounds of nature create the stress reducing and relaxing results of silent walking,
Noticing how the sounds rose and fell and changed in texture and tone—the wind louder then softer, a splash of water flowing, a distant clear whistled purdy-purdy-purdy song of a cardinal I felt a sense of happiness spread up through my chest filling my heart.
Was this the way silent walking reduced anxiety and depression, simply replacing them with happiness? Oh, how easy I thought. No long hours dredging up remote causes for depression, no laborious searching for and extinguishing anxiety triggers—just get outdoors, walk quietly, and immerse yourself in the sounds of nature.
But wait a second! Listening to the sounds of nature is not silence. Maybe, I thought, silent walking is more selective listening. Maybe, it is more about reducing our time hearing artificial and fabricated electronic sounds. Maybe it is more about creating the quiet needed to tune into the healing sounds of nature.
Whispers
Any trend that garners 50,000 hits and numerous articles of positive commentary is also going to generate detractors. Some have scoffed at Gen Zers for finally figuring out how to walk while others have dismissed the trend as a brazen rebranding or a shallow attempt to reinvent the obvious. And some have piled on by claiming that silent walking has been around forever.
I think these critiques underestimate Ms. Maio’s contributions. Part of the impact of a concept depends on timing. Continuing improvements in smart phone and streaming technology have led to a steady increase in ear bud time. Look around in a waiting room. Everyone is plugged in. Mady nailed the moment when the plugged-in pendulum had swung too far.
She was also quick to notice that there was something important about unplugging. Remember, after only two minutes of brain chaos she noticed clarity and a state of flow. Most importantly, she took the silent walking experience deeper stating “The universe and your intuition comes to you through whispers, so if you’re never alone with your thoughts and you never get quiet, you’re gonna miss the whispers.”
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(Optional Reading)
Guidelines For Silent Walking
Where
Look for a place with natural surroundings such as city park, a recreational trail, a forest reserve, a rail trail, or a nearby state park are all good options. Noisy, heavily-trafficked city streets aren’t good, but in the town where I live I can experience nature—trees, flowers, bushes, birds—just one block away from a main street so quiet residential areas are an option. Keep your walking spot convenient. Have a number of options or walk the same route to view the day to day changes.
Length
Mady recommended a 30 minute silent walk. I find that it takes about that long to let go of everyday consciousness, activate sensory awareness, and merge into a flow state. I recommend doing at least several 30-60 minute silent walks to get the hang of it, to teach your brain and senses how it works. After that any length of time, from five minutes up can be helpful.
Techniques
Follow Mady’s advice and leave the earbuds home. Get into a comfortable pace. Engage in noticing, or what might be called sensory awareness—fully seeing, hearing, feeling, and smelling what is around you. It may help to pay attention to your breath, to synchronizing your steps and breathing. You can also just walk and let the process unfold.
Safety
Be thoughtful and careful when going out in nature. Check the weather and match your clothes to the conditions. Use good footwear. Take water. Choose a safe place to walk. Let someone know when and where you go and when you return. Take a whistle and a compass.
Alone
Silent walking works best if you do it solo. Walking with someone can easily turn into a social event. I enjoy walking with others, but if want the full mindfulness experience I walk alone. And when you walk alone you can individualize the experience choosing your own routes and pace and pauses.
Smart phone
I take my smart phone along. I don’t text, email or talk, but because I have family I need to be reachable. I also use several apps that bring me closer to nature. One is Picture This which allows me to identify plants. A plant named becomes a plant known becomes a friend in nature. The Sound ID option on the free Merlin Bird ID app helps me to hear and identify bird songs and calls adding to my appreciation of the music of nature. Apps like Google Maps and All Trails can help you find your way. And it is good to have your phone in case of an emergency.
How Often
As often as you can is the best answer. Once a week is good, more often is better. You can do one long walk a week and several shorter walks. There is abundant research confirming that time in nature improves human well-being. Mady Maio continues to walk every morning for 30 minutes. I think she is into something.
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Further Reading
I wrote several earlier posts about mindful walking “The Wander Walk” and “Walking to the Self” that can be found on this blog.
Here are links to a few of the articles that I read on silent walking:
https://www.sheknows.com/health-and-wellness/articles/2873363/silent-walking-tiktok-trend/
You can also read about more the nature mindfulness in my book The Stillness of the Living Forest: A Year of Listening and Learning available on Amazon and through Shanti Arts Publishing.
The Stillness of the Living Forest, John Harvey (shantiarts.com)