An invitation to slow down, walk in silence, and notice what has been waiting beneath the noise.
Dear Pilgrims,
When I first began walking pilgrim paths, it was not from a place of strength or wellbeing. It came from the quiet realisation that something in my life was not aligned – that inwardly, I was not where I felt I ought to be.
Outwardly, many things seemed fine. As they do for so many people around us. We ask each other how we are, and almost automatically answer, “I’m fine.” On social media we see happy faces, functioning lives, apparent ease. And yet we know: behind the façades, many of us are carrying a burden.
The pace of everyday life.
Expectations.
World events, crises, conflicts.
Illness, exhaustion, unspoken longing.
Rarely do we give space to what quietly accumulates beneath the surface.
When the pressure becomes too much, we often face a choice: to break – or to set out.
I chose to set out.
To walk.
Entering silence unprepared
Being outdoors, walking long distances, had always been familiar to me – from my time as a scout. But when I moved to Berlin, this gradually disappeared from my life. Too many distractions. Too much noise. Too many “important” things.
When I returned to longer walks after several years, all of this caught up with me. I was untrained, physically and inwardly. And above all: the silence was overwhelming.
With every step, thoughts surfaced, unresolved issues, restlessness. The solitude of the paths confronted me with myself. So much so that I was close to giving up.
I realised then: you cannot simply step into silence unprepared. Silence is not a wellness offer. It is honest.
So I paused. I worked not only on external issues, but also prepared myself inwardly – through prayers, meditation and spiritual practices.
The voice beneath the noise
And slowly, something began to change. My thoughts became quieter. My steps more steady. And in that quiet, a voice emerged that I had not heard for a long time: my inner voice.
Not the loud one that tells you what you should or shouldn’t do. But the quiet, unshaped, genuine one. At first it whispered cautiously: “Share this path.”
I dismissed it as a beautiful but unrealistic idea: Too little experience. Too little trust. Too much uncertainty.
But the more I walked, the clearer this voice became. And in the summer of 2024, while walking alone along the Latvian Baltic coast, it became impossible to ignore.
Soft sand beneath my feet.
Relentless sun.
Hardly anyone around.
I found myself wondering why I was still walking at all. My old problems were resolved. I felt physically stronger. I knew I could walk long distances alone.
Why continue to pilgrimage?
And right there, in the midst of that silence, the whisper became a call: “Walk with others.”
During that very journey, I received an invitation to train as a pilgrim guide. I took it for what it was: a final, unmistakable nudge.
Walking together in silence
Today, I walk regularly with groups. And although I value control – over routes, planning, structure – I have learned that what cannot be planned, what is shared, what is open, is often what truly carries us.
What connects all these journeys is one thing: silence.
Not as the absence of sound, but as a space in which something becomes audible that is otherwise drowned out.
That is why I want to invite you to seek silence intentionally.
Not to find answers.
Not to solve problems.
But to become aware.
A small practice for your everyday life
You might like to try this in the coming days:
- Go for a walk of 10–15 minutes – without music, without a podcast, without a destination.
- Leave your phone at home, or at least on silent.
- Walk in silence.
And gently direct your attention in three steps:
- Listen to the path beneath your feet.
Your footsteps. The sounds around you. The environment. - Listen to being with others.
Even if you walk alone, you are part of a greater reality.
Silence does not mean isolation. - Listen to yourself.
Not to the loud inner voice of to-do lists.
But to what lies beneath:
tiredness, longing, restlessness, need.
Try not to analyse or change anything.
Simply notice.
From my own experience, I know: silence can feel unsettling, because we do not know what it may reveal. And yet I trust that the next step becomes clear when we slow down and listen.
For me, that is faith:
not having all the answers,
but trusting that we are not walking alone.
Buen Camino,
Alexander
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