When I was in acting school, we had this exercise: Adopt a walk. You would pick someone in the world, someone with an interesting walk or a noticeable thrill, and you would follow them – not in a creepy way, but with curiosity. The task was to mimic their physicality as closely as possible. Do they lead with their chest, like some kind of swashbuckling pirate? Or with their heads, as if they were being dragged by their thoughts? Where did they maintain tension? Their shoulders? Jaw? Toes? The idea wasn’t just to copy them; It was to feel them, to inhabit their bodies and, by extension, their world.
Recently I started doing this exercise again – although there is no class and I no longer trade.
It all started on one of my regular walks into town. I was in a hurry downstairs when I saw an older woman in front of me. She walked slowly – annoyingly slowly, if I’m honest – and my first instinct was annoyance. But then I thought of the old acting school exercise. What if, instead of speeding up to avoid her, I matched her pace? So I slowed down and mimicked her small, deliberate steps, the way she leaned slightly to one side, her arms swinging as if she were carrying invisible weights.
And then it hit me: empathy. Not the mushy, Hallmark-Card boyfriend, but a physical understanding of what it might feel like to be her. As I moved as she did, my irritation evaporated. I didn’t just see her; I felt her. I thought about the phrase “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes” and realized that it’s not the shoes that matter; It’s the walk.
Empathy Walk as a practice
This was not an isolated incident. I started doing it regularly, turning my everyday walks into something almost meditative. One day I imitated a man whose shoulders were practically kissing his ears. As I took his tense, purposeful step, I felt a surge of energy, almost aggression, and wondered what invisible burden he was carrying. Another day I copied a teenager who was slouching dramatically, his head tilted downward as if the ground had all the answers. As I assumed his position, I felt a heaviness—a kind of sadness settling in my chest. These little experiments not only connected me to others; They also helped me understand myself. What was I standing at? Where was I tight? What can I let go?
I have come to call this practice an “empathy walk.” And yes, I know it sounds a little woo-woo, but stay with me. It’s about more than just copying someone’s runs. It’s about inhabiting their experience, even for a moment, and seeing the world as they might.
Attention: In-Feeling.
This practice reminds me of the German word Empathy—A term that loosely translates to “empathy” but originally meant “in-feeling” or “feeling.” I first learned this word while recording an episode of my podcast, Fifty words for snow, where my where my cohost and I explore words from around the world that lack an English equivalent. Einfühlung perfectly captures what A Empathy Walk offers: the chance to feel into another person, not just observe from the outside.
Empathy Walk Challenge
So, try it next time you’re running. Choose someone in front of you and imitate his step. Notice where they are tight, where they are loose, how they carry themselves. Let their tension teach you about your own. Let their walk reshape yours. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel a little less separated and a little more connected—to them, to yourself, and to this messy, beautiful, shared experience we call human.
Related posts:
