Still Walking

I am still walking, and I always will be. This trek is on a path I’m meant to take, one of continual steps, some forward, sometimes back, but once guided by fear now always guided by faith and love. 

Walking has taken on much more than just physical activity; it can be a deep, spiritual practice for me.  I’ve come to realize that my life is meant to be a spiritual walk, sometimes a mystical canter through the experiences that shape me.   For me, it’s become about finding “heaven here on earth,” where each step is accepted as having purpose.

Just yesterday, I was reminded of this truth in a way I am so grateful for. I felt a compelling urge to visit the Trail—the southern stretch of the Fisherman’s Trail, from Salema to Sagres, here in the beautiful high-cliff coastline landscape of southern Portugal.  I didn’t know how long I would walk or how far I would go; I simply felt the call to move, to embrace time on the trail.  It’s a familiar feeling, this call to openness, to immerse myself in the beauty of the coastline and all its elements.  I trusted I would be shown something important.  I always am.  Each step a new moment.  A new invitation for something expectedly unexpected.

An irony strikes me: my life’s walk has a foundation, an ‘altar’ nestled in the woods behind an old home.  It’s a stop, not a step, on the walk.  It serves as a grounding point of my spirituality in my earthly existence.  A physical place where time seems to stand still and I can become a part of the landscape.  During my walk yesterday, I was shown perhaps I am not confined to just one grounding point.  I may have multiple places where time freezes for me to touch the divine. 

I imagine the trail is not just a single space; it’s a vast expanse filled with potential—thousands of ‘thin spaces’ where I can experience moments of timelessness.  Each step along the path becomes an invitation to connect with something greater, a suspension of time that allows me to glimpse heaven here on earth.  When such a space presents itself, I have no questions.  I’m simply compelled to visit.  Stop stepping for a moment.  A moment I trust will extend itself to losing track of time for I believe then none exists.

I settled into a new ‘altar’ on the trail and felt an incredible sense of belonging.  I realized I am just a part of this grand tapestry of life—not bigger, not smaller, not better or worse, just a piece woven into the intricate and inexplicable design of existence.  It’s a humbling yet uplifting realization of what John O’Donahue’s Anam Cara so vividly paints for us.  The land, the water, the wind, the sun…the trail itself…and me, all a part of a single breathing landscape.

The sun struggled to break free from behind a cloud, inching its way toward the horizon.  A seagull glided across the shimmering glare as the sunlight began to make its presence known.  The air cooled around me, and the sky transformed into a canvas of blood red, gradually settling into a dusky blue.  In that moment, inspiration washed over me.  I felt comforted the sun would return, ready to light the lamp within me once again tomorrow, warming my heart and awakening my soul.  Both heart and soul, warmed and awakened enough to wait until then.

A revelation settles in as it struck me: I am the altar.  I’ve always been the altar.  It’s not about seeking external reminders or triggers; it’s about recognizing the sacred space within myself.  Each moment of acceptance is an opportunity to connect with who I am, to honor the divine spark within me.

Walking is not merely an act of putting one foot in front of the other; it’s a way of engaging with the world, a practice of mindfulness that allows me to connect the external with the internal; flesh and spirit.  With every step, I invite the beauty of the earth to fill my senses—the scent of salt in the air, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the feeling of solid, grounding earth beneath my feet.  The many senses of each element reinforce my understanding that I am part of something vast and magnificent.

As I restarted my walk, I reflected on the lessons I’ve learned along this trek.  Life is full of twists and turns, ups and downs, and often, it feels like I’m navigating a labyrinth of choices.  But the act of walking reminds me to remain present and open to the unfolding of my path.  Each challenge I face is an opportunity for growth, each joy a celebration of the beauty that surrounds me.  Each corner I turn, each emergence from the bush, a new vista.  A new expansiveness.

I’ve come to appreciate the importance of embracing uncertainty. There is a magic in not knowing what lies ahead.  It’s in the uncertainty that we find room for exploration and discovery.  Just as the trail meanders along the coastline, so too does my life take unexpected turns that lead me to new and enriching experiences.  I had never planned to even be here.  I didn’t know it existed.  And now, I can’t imagine not being a part of it.  For I plainly am.

As I continued my walk, I notice the small details that often go unnoticed—the delicate flowers peeking through the rocks, the way the sunlight danced on the water, the shriek of seagulls air-lifted into view from below the clifftops along the trail.  Each a simple reminder that my life is a series of fleeting moments, each one precious and worthy of appreciation.

I am learning to cultivate gratitude for every step in life, for the lessons that come from both joy and sorrow.  Each step I take a testament to resilience and a declaration that I am willing to embrace life, with all its complexities and wonders.

In this world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming, walking becomes a sacred act of reclaiming my peace.  It’s an invitation to return to my center, to reconnect with my spirit, and to honor the trek I am on.  The life I live.  Who I am.  With every divine stride I feel I move closer toward greater understanding and deeper love.

As I reached the end of my walk, I paused to take in the view one last time. The horizon stretched before me, a constant reminder of the infinite possibilities that await.  With a heart full of gratitude and a spirit renewed, I understand that my walk is far from over.  Still walking, I embrace each moment and the lessons unfolding along the way.  No longer in search of an altar, I know one will always be evident.  For I am the altar no matter where on the trail I may be.