Zen pilgrimage walk: Meditation on pain

I recently got back from a 4-week pilgrimage walk through the country, which I did as a Zen monk – carrying no money, just living from my alms bowl. In last week's article I talked about why I would even do such a thing. This week I'd like to talk a little about one of the most intense aspects of the walk - the pain in my feet.

Before I get onto that though, I should say a few words about the route I took and my unusual footwear.

The route

My meandering path was defined by the people I wanted to visit along the way: there was the Dorset contingent of our sangha based in Bournemouth, my partner's mum who lives in Salisbury, some other sangha members in Whitchurch near Andover and in Oxford, the Amara Vati monastery near Hemel Hempstead, the Nipponzan Myohoji temple at the peace pagoda in Milton Keynes, another sangha member in Northampton, the Tariki Trust house in Leicester, and some another sangha members in Nottingham, Sheffield, and Hebden Bridge.

The total distance was about 380 miles (see the full map here).

Footwear

The traditional footwear for a Zen monk on the road would have been a pair of white socks with a separated big toe, called tabi, worn together with a pair of straw sandals, called waraji, which are held on with laces around your ankle and lower-leg. In more modern times, a rubber sole has been added to the tabi socks to make them more robust and more like canvas boots (called jika-tabi). The sole is very thin and flexible (similar to bare-foot running shoes), so the waraji add a nice layer of padding underneath.

Under normal circumstances, the waraji wear out after about 3 days of walking, so I knew I was going to need a good stock of them for the whole journey. I got 10 pairs kindly brought over from Japan.

But while I was on our Zen sesshin retreat, a friend gave me a big rubber sheet, together with some glue and a needle and thread, and showed me how to sew a rubber sole onto the bottom of the waraji sandals. We had enough to rubberise two pairs, which in the end was actually all I needed. The rubber bore the brunt of the tarmac abrasion and the second pair fell apart literally on the last day of my walk! Thanks so much to Gensho for showing me this technique. I now have 8 spare pairs of waraji for sale...

Since the jika-tabi are essentially the socks and fit very snugly, I wore nothing inside them. This was to the consternation of all my acquaintances who had ever done any hiking...

Developing sensations

I'd had a couple of longer practice-walks in the tabi boots and waraji before I started the pilgrimage. After each of these I carefully noted where the blisters had begun to develop. People had recommended zinc-oxide plaster tape (easily available at Boots) as a way of avoiding blisters, so on day 1 I taped up my feet in all the places I knew blisters were likely, and happily walked off into the Dorset countryside.

Little did I know that zinc-oxide tape is no match for the tabi boots... Over the first few days of walking I developed some fairly substantial blisters (under the tape), accompanied by some fairly substantial pain. In Salisbury, my partner's mum very kindly did some internet research and bought me some adhesive cotton padding to put on my feet. One of her friends also extremely kindly donated me a few packets of Compeed (blister plasters) which were very helpful.

I hadn't at all anticipated the level of pain I experienced in my feet over that first week. Every step became excruciating, often to the point of tears... The strongest sensations came when I started off again after a break (I'm going to guess here that after walking for some time, the reason I feel less sensation is that the pain gates in my nervous system began to close – see my blog article about pain gates here).

An important turning point in those first few days was when I realised that I was doing no long-term damage by continuing to walk on the blisters. Knowing that the pain wasn't carrying any serious messages, I knew that it was simply a sensation and I just had to get on with it.

[Health warning: Most of the time pain is a very important signal saying that damage to the body is occurring and something needs to be done about it! If, for example, you've got your finger in the gas flame, just allowing and accepting the sensations isn't going to do you much good.]

Wanting the pain to stop

I quickly realised that tensing up against the pain made things worse. Wanting it to go away also just made things worse. Wanting (or 'craving' in Buddhist terminology) stems from the wish for things to be different to what they are right now. And of course, in this moment, right now, how can things be different? Maybe in a future moment things will be different, but right now it's utterly futile to want things to be anything but what they are. This wanting (whether that's in the sense of pulling towards or pushing away) is what causes suffering – not accepting that things are as they are right now.

I wrote this on day 6:

"Walking is very simple - just put one foot in front of the other. After 6 days of it though, the pain is intense and the mind constantly seeks ways to escape, for relief. There is no escape though - only through softening and acceptance does the suffering end, and a constant re-realisation that there is only now."

So my walking became a practice of softening my feet, every step – softening and allowing the sensations. Not trying to make them go away or make them change in any way. In that first week, after feeling quite nauseous at the end of a few of the days, and I realised I'd also been tightening my belly against the pain. So my walking became a practice of softening my feet and my belly, every step, every breath. I found my footsteps and breath often came into sync (two steps in, three steps out), and on each out-breath I concentrated on totally relaxing my belly (or hara). This helped a lot.

Later I realised that in my softening there was still a whiff of wanting – because I wanted to make the pain feel less. Fair enough you might say – but this was still a craving for something other than the reality of that moment. It was subtle and much more difficult to let go of.

So like this – focussing on relaxing my feet and belly, and letting go as much as I could of the wish for the pain to go away – the miles fell away. There was the rhythm of the breath, and the rhythm of the walking – step after step. Not wanting anything to be any different – enjoying the sunshine on my back and the smell of the hedgerow flowers as they wafted by, and simply allowing the pain sensations to be there (whether they were strong, sharp, dull, or throbbing).

Audio diary entry from 5th August where I talk about the pain in my feet:

Night time

After some weeks of walking the blisters all but cleared up. But you know that feeling of ache you get in your feet after standing up for a long time? – that took over! And you know the feeling of relief you get when you do finally sit (or lie) down? – kind of like a feeling of expansion? – that became the dominant feeling during the night. It was like a feeling of relief that became so intense that it was painful in of itself!

But I kept on reminding myself of this famous adage which couldn't be more true:

"Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional" - Buddhist proverb

By the morning though, my feet always felt ready to face another day of walking. It's amazing what a night's sleep can heal.

I am a member of the Zenways sangha led by Zen master Daizan Roshi, and I teach meditation, mindfulness and yoga at the ZenYoga studio in Camberwell, London. See my website for further details.

I'd love to hear from you

Ever had a similar experience? Leave a comment below, I'd love to hear your thoughts on meditating on pain.

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From the ground up: common foot problems

In yoga the concept of grounding comes up a lot - both as a verb (to ground through the feet) and an adjective (a grounded feeling). Personally I try to avoid using the word in my classes (e.g. at ZenYoga Camberwell) because I'm not sure how many people really know what it means. What would you do if I asked you to ground through your feet...?

Nevertheless, grounding is incredibly important. It brings us into connection with the ground and with the world around us. Without that we can't go anywhere – no plant can ever grow upwards without first sending some roots downwards.

In Zen and Zen Yoga we put a strong emphasis on the "down", but focussing our attention/intention/awareness downwards may seem at first rather backward! After all who wants to move down in the world? Our cultural ideals are all about going forward, moving up, growing up, or waking up. Even in yoga, we often find (either explicitly or implicitly) a strong emphasis on the "up". In many practices we're told to put your feet together, engage your thighs and lift your kneecaps. Can you feel the difference between that and place your feet apart and soften your knees?

Ups and downs

As far as I see, spiritual practices are indeed about liberating energy, moving it up the spine, and awakening to higher levels of consciousness. BUT (and it's a big but), by doing this without building a firm and stable foundation first we run the risk of getting very sick, getting lost in the clouds, and floating off away from the world – in effect spiritually toppling over. Down has to precede up, as Zen Master Hakuin learnt the hard way.

The problem is that many spiritual practices, including yoga (as I said either explicitly or implicitly), only teach going up. It's like building a skyscraper without drilling the foundations first. And in our highly distracting, intellectual, and stress-filled world, this serves only to draw us even further away from the ground, from reality, from common-sense, and from worldly connection.

In this series of posts I'd like to take a look at our roots (and by roots I mean everything from our pelvic floor downwards). I'll be talking to my sister Kim, a physiotherapist who lives in Stockholm, to get the physiological and anatomical view on things and a few exercises to help things out.

This week we're going to be looking at the feet.

Put your best foot forwards

So, according to the anatomy books there are 19 (or 20, depending on how you count) muscles in the foot, and a good number more of the lower leg muscles attaching to the bones of the foot affecting its motion and balance.

Sadly, from a very early age our toes are squeezed together. When we're babies our muscles and bones are soft and even socks are enough to start the squeezing process – then later it becomes shoes (high-heeled, pointy ones are the worst...). All this squeezing-in inhibits the natural movement of the foot and consequently prevents a good development of the foot musculature. However, despite this terrible start to life, out feet tend to succeed in carrying us (more or less) though our life. Thank you resilient feet!

Most of us, though, get the odd twinge and pain here or there, and although it's often difficult to know for sure which body part is causing the pain in another body part, we can safely say that our feet are a good place to start. They play an essential role in the balance of the entire body standing on them. It's important to learn how to love them (nice article by Lorna Clancey)!

For good stability and balance, the feet need to be stable in the arch and ankle as well as having a good 'fan' shape in the toes. From what I see in my classes (and what Kim sees in her patients) though, people's toes tend to be a bit (sometimes a lot) squished in, arches more or less collapsing, and the ankles very wobbly while standing on one leg or up on tiptoes.

So lets look at those points:


1.    Toes 'squished' in:

Each of our toes has a muscle on either side that moves the toe from side to side (just like we can with our fingers). An inability to spread your toes (i.e. engage these muscles) can come from:

• difficulty making contact with those muscles (brain to toe nerve messages not working)
• difficulty activating the muscle because of muscle weakness
• in combination the muscles on the opposite side can be tight and therefore making the job of the weak muscles even harder.

Toes that are spread out in a fan shape (the big toe is especially important) give much more stability, and hence connection to the ground.

Try: If your big toe angles inwards, try standing on one leg while allowing your big toe to fall inwards, and compare this to how it feels after you manually pull your big toe out straight.

Simple exercises to do: highly recommended!

• stretch: pull your toes apart passively with your hand one at a time then try putting your fingers between your toes (see photo)
• exercise: spread your toes actively as much as you can, hold 5 sec then release, repeat 10 times. Do this daily to 'find' and 'activate' muscles. Don’t be discouraged if you don't 'find' the muscles at first.
• every time you stand up (in daily life, in a yoga class), consciously spread your toes.

2.    Collapsing arches:

Many peoples' feet, to some degree, roll inwards due to weak arch muscles. Kim points out that again the big toe plays an important role here – if it points inwards it allows the foot to roll in. Pointing the big toe outwards creates a kind of 'stop' or wedge and prevents the arch from flattening.

The other important player in the arch of the foot is the posterior tibial muscle which originates from the inside of the chin bone, goes round the back of the inner ankle bone and inserts under the front of the big toe (see figure). If you trace out that line on your own foot/ankle you'll see why this muscle plays such an important role in holding up your arch.


Kim's exercise to try:

With your foot flat on the floor, activate the posterior tibial muscle by intending to move the ball of your big toe closer to your heel whilst keeping your toes relaxed. I find this very hard! Let me know how you get on using the comments below.

With the big toe in place and this muscle firmly activated you should be a lot more stable in all your standing positions. Try it even in downward dog.
 


3.    Wobbly ankles:

Working on points 1 and 2 will certainly strengthen the feet and stabilise your ankles. Hopefully you'll be much less wobbly when standing on one leg.

But what about on tiptoes?

When standing on your tiptoes you might find your ankle(s) have a tendency to wobble or fall outwards. This might be due to a weakness around the ankle itself. We have important ligaments which hold our ankles stable as well as many muscles that originate from the lower leg and insert in the foot that all hold things stable. If you have this tendency for your ankle to wobble or fall outwards, Kim recommends you start training the muscles to compensate.

If you can come up onto tiptoes and mindfully, with control, get your ankles facing forwards without any outward wobbling, work on that. If you can’t control this movement by concentration and will power alone, Kim suggests you hold the back of a chair to take some weight off the ankles so they won't be working so hard. Practise in this way to train your muscles so they know what they’re doing. Gradually allow your ankles to work under more and more weight until they can work stably under your whole body weight.



Daily exercise plan for healthy feet:

1. 'clench' then 'spread' your toes, hold 5 sec in each position, x10
2. stand on one leg for about 1 min each side
3. Come up onto your tiptoes x20

Interested in more? Come and join me for one of my yoga classes at ZenYoga in Camberwell. See my website for my class schedule and more details.

I'd love to hear from you

Have you suffered from foot problems? How have you got on with these exercises? I'd love to hear from you! Leave a comment below, join the discussion. 

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