Nurturing the Quality of Being

A Morning Restorative Walk, a heron who never hurries, and how routines set something free

“Repetition is not boredom — it is a whetstone that sharpens our sensitivity.”

September is here, and schools have begun their new term. How have you all been?

Today, I’d like to talk a little about “routines.”

I used to think of routines as “things that trap you in a mold and rob you of freedom” — something rigid and stifling. But lately, having built a routine of my own, I’m seeing them differently: even things that once felt difficult can be kept up steadily, with less stress and less energy spent. And, mysteriously, it is precisely because there is a fixed form that “something else” comes into view.

This summer, wanting to bathe in the morning sun, I began setting my alarm for 5:30 every morning and spending the early hours in a large nature park nearby. Summer in Seattle is short — and beautiful. The morning light and clear air are, quite simply, delicious.

I was never a morning person. Quite the opposite — at night my mind would spark to life, and work, especially creative work, would flow. So I used to start every day carrying a certain heaviness. I wanted to make better use of my mornings — and yet the trigger to turn that wish into an actual habit never quite appeared.

But now, step by step through the forest, I find myself slowly waking up. Birdsong, the deep, pleasant scent of the woods, the fresh morning air. When I look up at the sky, a quiet happiness suffuses my body.

Walking the wetland’s edge, I meet the same great blue heron in the same spot every day. He, too, is inside a routine — and always, quietly, he is a “teacher of Being.”

The luxury of having the forest’s stillness all to myself.

My “morning Restorative Walk” — a walk that reconnects me with myself. It is what makes the beginning of each day so rich now.

Time That Nurtures “Being,” Not “Doing”

A morning walk, senses open, soaking in nature “just as it is.” This is not mere exercise. I feel it is a precious restorative practice — a habit of repair and care — through which we cultivate the “quality of Being” in our daily lives.

Our everyday is driven by “Doing” — achieving something out there — chased by notifications, always thinking about the next appointment. Within that torrent, first we must settle our own Being. Only on that quiet foundation can we build deeper, warmer relationships with others, organizations, family, and community.

A Restorative Way of Being — Three Perspectives

I want to share three perspectives in the “restorative way of being.”

1. Repairing and Regenerating Relationships (Restorative)

When conflict, misunderstanding, or hurt arises, rather than “blaming or correcting someone,” we seek to understand “what happened, and what effects it had,” and carefully untie and re-tie the knots of relationship. What must not be forgotten here is the relationship with ourselves. Our relationships with others begin with our relationship with ourselves. That is why I believe a quiet morning walk—one that gently repairs my relationship with myself—is the starting point for repairing all relationships.

2. Nurturing: Tending the Ground That Draws Forth

Rather than wearing ourselves or others down toward burnout, we consciously cultivate spaces where people can exist in safety — soil in which each person can bloom autonomously.

3. A Quiet Presence Rooted in Being

Not pulling others with force, but first keeping one’s own body and mind in a restorative — settled — state, and accompanying those around us with that quietness and embrace. Not moving the people around us through power, but simply standing there ourselves first as “a quiet, settled Being.” That sense of safety is what soothes the agitated hearts around us and restores our original harmony.

The Strengths of Routines That Nurture Being

So why do “routines that nurture Being” work so well? The strengths I have experienced firsthand are these four.

1. They continue without relying on willpower. The weaker your willpower, the more worth a routine is. The resolve of “I’ll try hard today” is the first thing to vanish on a tired day. But when there is a fixed form — a time, a place, a single action — the body moves before the mind even thinks. Continuity can be entrusted to structure rather than will — that is the greatest power of a routine.

2. No “starting fresh” energy is required. The practice of Being requires no special tools, place, or expertise. Walking, brewing tea, sitting — simply doing what you already can, “just as it is,” with care. That makes it easy to turn into a daily form, and you can begin right away.

3. Because there is a form, “something else” becomes visible. The same path, the same morning, the same sitting. Precisely because we repeat it daily, we gradually learn to read the differences in birdsong, the angle of the light, the subtle tremors of our own hearts.

4. A quiet self-trust grows. Days of keeping small forms accumulate into a quiet trust: “I am someone who can take care of myself.” This is not something anyone can give you — it is a gift only you can return to yourself. And this self-trust becomes a quiet foundation that shows up in your relationships with others as well.

My Small Collection of Practices

As I write this, I notice that many “forms of Being” have actually taken root in my day. None of them is anything special.

• Restorative Walk (morning) — Walking with senses open, a time to repair my relationship with myself. Bathing in the morning sun also settles my body clock.

• Sitting (zazen) — Even a few minutes. In the Zen practice I have kept up for years (SONOMAMA, as-it-is-ness), I sit “just as it is” — grasping nothing, releasing nothing. A time to set “Doing” down and return to myself as I am.

• Boiling water for a cup of tea — Three minutes, watching the steam as I wait. It teaches my body that it is all right to do nothing while waiting.

• Quiet time before bed — After dinner, I reduce conversation, information-gathering, and stimulation, and focus on closing the day in a good way. (With my family’s understanding.) I try, as much as possible, to create a time of silence.

None of these is new or novel. But by positioning them as “daily forms,” they have become places I return to naturally, without having to think about it.

This autumn, are you spending small stretches of time that quietly settle the quality of your own Being? It needn’t be a grand walk. Boiling water for three minutes, gazing at the sky from the window — even such small moments are enough to begin. Every morning’s Restorative Walk is, for me, my own small practice for returning to “a quiet presence.” Find your own form — and begin.

If this reflection resonated with you, I’d be glad to have you along.

Words and Photos by K E I K O