By Annie Moyer

Walking the dog this past winter was treacherous. There were many mornings when ice covered the sidewalks, and the streets weren’t much better. Also, 65 pounds of eager puppy at the end of the leash didn’t help, especially if there was another eager puppy approaching. It took a lot of focus not to get pulled out from under myself.

I treasure these morning walks with my dog Prince. I sing songs to him. My phone stays out of reach. I smell the trees, the grass, the firewood in winter and the humidity in summer. I smile at passersby and try to make eye contact and say hello to each one. I plan my day, and rehearse my dharma talks. I think of my daughters and try to imagine what they’re doing at that moment (wait – they’re college students – it’s early morning – I know exactly what they’re doing and they won’t be awake for a few more hours!).

A common technique for walking meditations is to be conscious of each foot as it touches the ground, tracing each footstep’s outline, one by one. This is essential to avoid slipping on ice, but what would our daily experiences be like if we paid this much attention to every step we took, even on dry solid ground? What would our relationships be like if we paid careful attention to each word spoken, each interaction executed between intimates and strangers alike? If we applied keen, sharp focus all the time, we’d root down in each moment, and from that anchored attention, spring into the next step with renewed energy and assuredness. New possibilities for compassionate care for ourselves and each other might appear. It’s true that what goes up must come down, but it’s also true that what gets planted down deeply will rise up fully and strongly. I can’t think of a reason not to cultivate awareness and nurture our surroundings with as much care as it takes to navigate an icy street.

Oh – and it’s only fair to mention the other key to not getting pulled down on our walks: chewy treats in my pocket.