Meditative Walking
If I Am Not Me
Prelude
Introduction
& Dedications
Prelude
This book has two main facets:
The first approach — mindful movement — can benefit anyone grappling with depression.
The second — movement paired with spiritual contemplation — may speak more directly to those whose struggle is existential: those burdened by questions of self, soul, meaning, or God.
- The healing power of movement. Specifically, how aerobic exercise can help ease depression by shifting the mind’s focus away from obsessive, circular thinking and toward the felt experience of the body - specifically via our breathing. When we learn to inhabit movement with awareness, we begin to interrupt the negative neural loops that trap us.
- The transformative power of mantra. More personally, I found that walking while repeating a particular Mishna helped me confront the roots of my depression — namely, a crisis of self-identity and a deficiency of self-love. The combination of physical rhythm and spiritual reflection created a powerful mind-body-spirit connection.
The first approach — mindful movement — can benefit anyone grappling with depression.
The second — movement paired with spiritual contemplation — may speak more directly to those whose struggle is existential: those burdened by questions of self, soul, meaning, or God.
Introduction
Moving Toward Wholeness
Depression often manifests as a mental vortex — a spinning cycle of intrusive thoughts, shame, and internal noise. But there is a secret known to mystics and athletes alike: the body knows something the mind forgets.
This book explores two therapeutic tools that helped me recover a sense of presence, purpose, and possibility:
1. Walking as meditation.
By engaging in rhythmic, aerobic movement while consciously focusing on physical sensations — breath, steps, heartbeat, the swing of one’s arms — we can interrupt the mental loops that feed despair. This simple shift in attention, from thought to movement, can offer immediate relief.
2. Mishna as mantra.
As I walked, I repeated a line from Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers 1:14). The Mishna reads:
“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”
These words became more than a text — they became a rhythm. A beat I walked to. A path back to myself. Over time, they began to stitch together the torn fabric of my identity.
Whether you came here for practical tools or spiritual reflection, I hope you find something in these pages that lightens your burden, awakens your body, or restores your sense of direction.
This book explores two therapeutic tools that helped me recover a sense of presence, purpose, and possibility:
1. Walking as meditation.
By engaging in rhythmic, aerobic movement while consciously focusing on physical sensations — breath, steps, heartbeat, the swing of one’s arms — we can interrupt the mental loops that feed despair. This simple shift in attention, from thought to movement, can offer immediate relief.
2. Mishna as mantra.
As I walked, I repeated a line from Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers 1:14). The Mishna reads:
“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”
These words became more than a text — they became a rhythm. A beat I walked to. A path back to myself. Over time, they began to stitch together the torn fabric of my identity.
Whether you came here for practical tools or spiritual reflection, I hope you find something in these pages that lightens your burden, awakens your body, or restores your sense of direction.
Dedications
This book is dedicated to anyone seeking relief from depression.
To be blunt: if you're struggling to manage depression, I wrote this book for you. I want to share one thing that has helped me — a lot.
I know from personal experience that when you're deep in it, even reading a book can feel impossible. So I’ve done my best to keep this short, simple, and clear.
We are all different. And your depression is as unique as your fingerprint.
There is no one-size-fits-all “cure” for mental illness — not for me, and likely not for you. Depression rarely disappears completely. Instead, we learn to manage, to cope, to heal in layers. What helps one person might not help another. What helps today might not work tomorrow. That’s okay. The key is to find something that helps you — and then work it, gently and consistently.
This book is not a miracle cure. It is simply a tool — a method that, if it resonates with you, may help relieve some of the weight.
I’ve come to believe that depression often reinforces itself through neurological patterns — a loop of painful thoughts and emotional conclusions that trap us in despair. This book offers one way to interrupt that loop: by grounding the mind in the body, through movement. It’s a slow, steady method, like releasing a spasm one breath at a time.
There are many types of depression. Mine turns inward. I become obsessed with needing something — or someone — to validate my existence. I crave proof that I deserve to be here.
If you’ve ever felt something like that, then I hope these pages offer you not just a method, but companionship.
You are not alone.
To be blunt: if you're struggling to manage depression, I wrote this book for you. I want to share one thing that has helped me — a lot.
I know from personal experience that when you're deep in it, even reading a book can feel impossible. So I’ve done my best to keep this short, simple, and clear.
We are all different. And your depression is as unique as your fingerprint.
There is no one-size-fits-all “cure” for mental illness — not for me, and likely not for you. Depression rarely disappears completely. Instead, we learn to manage, to cope, to heal in layers. What helps one person might not help another. What helps today might not work tomorrow. That’s okay. The key is to find something that helps you — and then work it, gently and consistently.
This book is not a miracle cure. It is simply a tool — a method that, if it resonates with you, may help relieve some of the weight.
I’ve come to believe that depression often reinforces itself through neurological patterns — a loop of painful thoughts and emotional conclusions that trap us in despair. This book offers one way to interrupt that loop: by grounding the mind in the body, through movement. It’s a slow, steady method, like releasing a spasm one breath at a time.
There are many types of depression. Mine turns inward. I become obsessed with needing something — or someone — to validate my existence. I crave proof that I deserve to be here.
If you’ve ever felt something like that, then I hope these pages offer you not just a method, but companionship.
You are not alone.
And also I dedicate this book to my sister, Eta.
You taught me to read. You taught me to think, and how to dream. You introduced me to Judaism, and for that among everything else I am eternally grateful.
Eta, at different periods during this life, you raised me as if I were your own. You saved me—again and again—when I was a child, when I was a teen, and as an adult.
When I was a child you saved me from loneliness.
When I wanted to be a rock star, you showed me the light hidden in Judaism.
When I drifted off course at university, you helped steer me gently back to yeshiva—and toward rabbinic ordination.
And when my marriage collapsed after two hospitalisations, in 2003 and then again in 2013... the whole family shipped me straight to you—from Australia to Jerusalem—the only one they could trust, and the only one who would put up with my bullshit.
I lived with you both times, for months at a time, in your apartment with your kids. You weren’t remarried yet, but your children shared their space and their hearts. Your youngest son, Avi, generously gave up his room so I could have a private place to suffer in peace. His sister Chaya tolerated my moods. All of you did. You loved me through my depression, my mania, my brokenness. You held me up and showed me how to begin again—how to feel part of a family, how to love, and how to love myself.
So while this book is officially dedicated to you, Eta, as with all your treasures, it really belongs to you and your children:
Beryl, Rachel, Mendel (Steve), Chaya, and of course, Avi—who not only gave me his room, but also showed me and everyone how to control our behaviour, once we set our mind to it.
This book is for you all.
You helped me fly.
Micha
You taught me to read. You taught me to think, and how to dream. You introduced me to Judaism, and for that among everything else I am eternally grateful.
Eta, at different periods during this life, you raised me as if I were your own. You saved me—again and again—when I was a child, when I was a teen, and as an adult.
When I was a child you saved me from loneliness.
When I wanted to be a rock star, you showed me the light hidden in Judaism.
When I drifted off course at university, you helped steer me gently back to yeshiva—and toward rabbinic ordination.
And when my marriage collapsed after two hospitalisations, in 2003 and then again in 2013... the whole family shipped me straight to you—from Australia to Jerusalem—the only one they could trust, and the only one who would put up with my bullshit.
I lived with you both times, for months at a time, in your apartment with your kids. You weren’t remarried yet, but your children shared their space and their hearts. Your youngest son, Avi, generously gave up his room so I could have a private place to suffer in peace. His sister Chaya tolerated my moods. All of you did. You loved me through my depression, my mania, my brokenness. You held me up and showed me how to begin again—how to feel part of a family, how to love, and how to love myself.
So while this book is officially dedicated to you, Eta, as with all your treasures, it really belongs to you and your children:
Beryl, Rachel, Mendel (Steve), Chaya, and of course, Avi—who not only gave me his room, but also showed me and everyone how to control our behaviour, once we set our mind to it.
This book is for you all.
You helped me fly.
Micha