Welcome,
Dear friends,
To this sacred pilgrimage through the living landscape.
Before the walk begins,
You find yourself standing at a threshold.
It may be marked by a change in light,
A shift in the air,
Or simply a quiet knowing in your body.
Thresholds are not gates.
They do not open or close.
They wait to be noticed.
Feel your breath slow as you stand here.
With every exhale,
The world behind you loosens.
With every inhale,
The land ahead invites.
When you are ready,
Step across,
Not with force,
But with reverence.
Beneath your feet,
The path is lined with stone.
Some are smooth from centuries of passage.
Some are rough,
Untouched by time.
Each one remembers the weight of those who have walked before you.
Feel the steady presence of stone beneath you,
Unhurried,
Enduring,
Patient.
Then your feet resting on stone,
Which is stability.
Your legs moving forward,
Which is commitment.
Your spine like a standing stone,
In a realignment.
Stone does not rush.
Let your body learn this language.
The path begins to narrow as trees gather nearby.
Their branches do not block your way.
They bless it.
Notice how the air changes here,
Cooler,
Softer,
Alive with quiet movement.
Trees know how to stand still and grow at the same time.
Let this wisdom settle into your bones.
With each step,
Feel roots beneath the soil,
Weaving together,
Unseen,
Holding the land,
Holding you.
Just silently offer with each breath,
I am supported.
As you leave the clearing,
You notice another rhythm of steps,
Not loud,
Not separate from your own.
And this presence walks beside you as naturally as the trees stand nearby.
You do not need to turn your head.
You feel it in the way your breath steadies,
In the way your heart softens.
Like the forest itself,
This presence has always been here.
Let's just sit in silent communion together.
The path now feels less defined.
Grass brushes your ankles.
Earth replaces stone.
And here there is no clear beginning or end.
Only movement.
Only breath.
Only being.
You are not walking through nature.
You are walking as part of it.
Feel the grass.
And ahead you sense another threshold.
Subtle.
Familiar.
And before crossing this one,
Just pause.
Notice what has changed.
Not in your thoughts,
But in your body.
The steadiness of stone.
The patience of trees.
The openness of the path.
These now walk with you.
Step across the threshold.
The world receives you differently now.
Because you are different.
May your feet remember the stones.
May your spine remember the trees.
May your life remember how to walk as a prayer.
One final breath.
And then gently return.
And welcome yourself back into the world.
Blessings to you my dear friends.
Love and peace.
Namaste.
