Ron Emmons visited Wat Umong, a forest temple in Chiang Mai, Thailand, to quiet his mind. He took it slowly, placing each step with care. In an account published by Nikkei Asia on October 3, 2026, he describes how meditation and the temple’s history came together during his stay.
His approach was personal. Nobody gave him a program or a subsidy. He sat, walked and paid attention.
A Practice Built in Stages
Walking meditation sits at the heart of Emmons’ account. His teacher spoke softly, adding a step to the routine. “This time, add pressing to the stages of walking,” she said. “So we go heel up, lifting, moving, lowering, touching and pressing the foot to the ground.”
That’s a lot of detail for an action most people take without thinking. The lesson splits a stride into six parts: heel up, lifting, moving, lowering, touching and pressing. Then the student adds one more. The method doesn’t rush; it builds gradually and rewards patience, not shortcuts.
There’s nothing radical about the approach. The teacher didn’t discard the lesson and start again. She took what Emmons already knew and added one stage. Anyone who prefers steady improvement to sudden upheaval can see the logic.
What the Temple Leaves Standing
Emmons writes that meditation helped settle his thoughts as he took in the temple’s history. The grounds hold reminders of the past, though not all remain intact. Broken Buddha images evoke the Buddhist idea of impermanence. Nothing lasts forever, the damaged figures suggest, and the temple doesn’t conceal that fact.
Yet something endures there. According to Emmons, the Garden of Buddhist Teaching connects monks across centuries. The broken images speak to change and loss; the garden points to continuity, as people pass teachings from one generation to the next.
Those ideas stand side by side at Wat Umong. Individuals pass. Things break. The institution and its teachings continue because people choose to learn them.
The Individual at the Center
The story focuses on one person doing the work himself. Emmons doesn’t describe an outside authority stepping in to fix his restlessness. Instead, a teacher offers guidance, and the student places his foot on the ground again and again until his mind slows. He bears responsibility for the result.
The process isn’t quick. Each stage follows the last. The teacher speaks softly, and the lesson moves at the pace of a step.
Why This Matters:
Emmons’ account is a travel story with a point that reaches beyond Chiang Mai. Lasting change, whether in a person or an institution, tends to come through small, disciplined increments rather than dramatic breaks. The teacher’s instruction to add just one stage to the walk shows that pattern. The temple also offers a lesson: individuals and objects pass, while teachings survive because people take up the work of preserving them. That perspective favors inherited institutions and personal responsibility, and cautions against anyone promising a quick fix. Emmons’ own result—a calmer mind—came from effort he put in himself.