A Layer on Top

What I do is remarkably simple. My routines are a bit different here in Puerto Rico, where I lived when I wrote this, and Baltimore, where I'll return when I retire this year. There's forest hiking near the latter, and more parks in San Juan. Otherwise my routines are remarkably similar in both places.

I prioritize getting outside: before work, between meetings, and after work. Whenever possible, I walk instead of drive – even to bar and restaurant destinations in Old San Juan, which can be a 60-minute hike. I tend to buy supplies daily, walking to restock water, nuts, or fruit as they run low. These routines create natural opportunities to navigate sidewalks with ‘sketchy’ sections – areas better jumped over than stepped through. They give me time to walk through parks, bypassing meandering paths in favor of cutting across beach sand or along the shore of an inner lagoon. Puerto Rico boasts some of the most stunning brutalist and modernist park benches I’ve ever encountered, often positioned centrally within each park. They seem to invite being leveraged for a more efficient, energetic passage from street to water.

Parkour adds an extra dimension to my life’s journey, a layer I’ve cultivated bit-by-bit in my quest to be… well, less of an asshole this time around. This path embraced minimalism, requiring me to shed possessions, furnishings, and toys, occupying a smaller footprint wherever I lived. This freed up space for ‘guests’ – friends and family who could now live alongside me month-by-month, for as long as they wished, until their own paths led elsewhere. Minimalism fostered greater connection, pushing me outside my tiny home more often. Consequently, my worldview shifted daily, expanding from the confines of home to encompass the wider world that included it.

Before stepping outside, I consciously reaffirm a set of guiding principles. It’s a light approach inspired by the Buddha: simply striving to see, say, and do things in a right way. Each morning after waking, I remind myself to set aside ego, release expectations, and cultivate a mindset receptive to following eight core tenets on my path. In the ‘old days,’ this was a clunky ritual. I’d literally sit down, mechanically go through the motions: stretching, assuming a meditative posture, clearing my mind, checking my breathing, and scanning my body part-by-part to tune mind and body together. Only then would I methodically focus on how I choose to be: Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration – until all eight were top of mind. Then I’d spend a minute contemplating direction: Where do I need to point myself to align with purpose? Is one of my kids or friends ready for a call? Are there supplies I need to get or responsibilities to meet? Are there obligations beyond those dictated by work or society that I should plan for?

Finally, I rise, now mentally equipped for the purposeful day ahead. I start or finish my coffee routine, shower after some quick stretching, muscle work, or martial arts movements, grab breakfast if I’m not intermittent fasting, and head out. Ideally, I have time for a 3k hike before reaching an office or worksite. When my books start releasing, I’ll be retired, no longer needing this specific step. Then, I’ll always have time for a hike… until the day comes when I no longer have the ability. I think about that: the freedom from time constraints, followed by the potential reality of having time but lacking the capability.

It’s only when I walk out the door for that first hike – often combined with a stop for groceries – that parkour truly begins.

Strong Like Nature

Parkour is a mindset as much as movement. To grasp this, revisit Georges Hébert, the French Naval Officer who invented “Méthode Naturelle.” Traveling beyond colonial society, he observed how everything in nature flowed with purpose. Paths—taken by indigenous humans or beasts—weren’t designed by authority but shaped by immediate, practical needs. The peoples he encountered embodied this: perpetually sharp, aware, and physically strong in ways Hébert felt military training lacked. His “Natural Method” aimed to make troops more adaptive, agile, and self-reliant—able to thrive without stone paths or manuals.

He saw civilized society trap us physically and mentally behind arbitrary walls and guideposts. Beyond those constructs, military reliance on supply chains became a weakness. To succeed, soldiers needed sustainability—the innate resilience of all life. Nature has no lanterns, roads, or hospitals, yet its creatures navigate, travel, and heal. Indigenous groups, even unarmed, were formidable because they understood natural systems. Hébert’s method sought to teach these ways.

Though Hébert focused on the military, parkour later evolved. Raymond Belle, a soldier and firefighter, applied Hébert’s principles—moving naturally through burning buildings proved invaluable. His efficient style gained local notice. He taught his son, David Belle, who saw parkour not as tactical advantage but as a better way to be. More like nature. While David and his followers codified techniques for urban structures, parkour’s essence rejects prescribed paths. It’s Hébert and the Belles recognizing nature’s alternative: moving with acute awareness of reality, not society’s contrived rules.

Parkour is navigating life’s 3D map with the “prescribed paths” layer turned off.

For me, walking outside is parkour manifesting the alignment I start before leaving home. Beyond the eight tenets of Buddhism, it’s about seeing the greater world’s purpose while remaining connected to a society that binds my loved ones. Parkour bridges these worlds, letting me move between them—choosing actions based on local sensibilities and natural goals. Society needs defined paths to avoid chaos; I cannot jump over everything in my path. Natural systems are more nuanced, their paths more fluid. An ant colony can build a road network overnight. It farms food for a fungus needing to wake spring trees. A termite queen doesn’t protest ants now crossing her lawn—she doesn't own it. Her focus is a million workers breaking down a storm-felled tree, also to provide material to the fungus. She gives a silent nod to the ant queen; as she signals more traffic for these roads. This interconnected flow, adapting to immediate needs without rigid ownership, reflects parkour's natural mindset.

Tags: parkour, Buddhism, exercise, chapter preview