What I Learned From My Barefoot Hiker
We walked and walked and walked. I can’t remember when I enjoyed walking more than when we started on our international journey a month ago. I guess all those years of hiking in the Colorado Rockies prepared me for this next journey in life. It took my racing monkey mind and slowed everything down. Walking became a metaphor for slowing down life.
Once, I met a man on a trail in Chautauqua, he was walking barefoot on the path. This rocky terrain, full of roots and sharp rocks compelled me to stop and ask. Why do you walk barefoot? He replied.
“I have walked barefoot on this same trail every day for over a year. Each time, I see, feel, and hear something different. Walking barefoot forces me to be present, intentional, and mindful of where I step.”
You can only go so fast when you choose to walk. When you do, the life you experience is so different, almost magnified by the smallest things you see, touch, and hear. This became more relevant to me after my husband, and I hiked the last 100km of the Camino de Santiago. It was an immersive experience into the life of the towns, villages, and farms we passed over a 6-day period.
I witnessed the delicate simplicity of life mindfully passing through farms, homes, towns, villages, and cities. Experiencing the beauty of so many gardens with their unique varieties of flowers. Most often would have been missed if I was moving quickly by car. Interacting with the quirky and unique personalities of the animals we passed, cats, dogs, chickens, goats, horses, and donkeys.
Tempted to touch the intricate spiderwebs spun the day before, hung like masterpieces of art. The morning dew dripping from the leaves and grapes of the limitless vineyards we passed. The smells, oh the smells, from people busy preparing their dinners as we walked through towns and villages at dusk.
The sounds and smells of bakeries, in the early morning hours, preparing their bread and pastries. You felt the warmth and sweetness through cracked windows as we walked quietly down cobblestone streets.
The fog became a constant companion in our walking journey. Early morning mist, hovering over ancient churches, through forests, and blanketing the tops of farm fields gave a feeling of silent reverence.
Our walks forced us through urban cities. Often, we felt jarred by the loud sounds of traffic, highways, and construction. I noticed how my body responded to this intense shift in my surroundings. A tightness in my chest and a heightened awareness prompted a strong desire to walk faster, to move from the loud and intrusive sounds of the city back to the serene tranquility of our rural landscapes.
We breathed a sigh of relief as we left the cities, but equally grateful to have the opportunity to experience the contrast
Yes, walking has taught me that life is more vivid. Our senses of sight, sound, and touch are more turned on when we slow down. We can intentionally experience the world without having to be racing past it, looking to the next thing.
I will always remember my barefoot traveler and how his discipline of slowing down was a lesson in presence and purpose. Honestly, I don’t want to miss the details in life. So, I choose to slow down, walk, and find gratitude in the beauty and serenity life must teach me.
