There is nothing I love to do more in a new place than simply wander. Without any particular destination; directionless. Walking for the joy of looking. There’s no expectation of what you’ll find, so what is discovered along the way is always more rewarding than if you’d planned it.
Perhaps it’s because I have been travelling somewhere at least once a month every month this year for one reason or another, but I find my heart burning with lust for wandering. I crave the freedom of days dedicated to nothing else but exploring on foot. I’m hungry for the stillness and quiet inside that comes from movement. The clear-headed nothingness of being truly present in your body as you put one foot in front of the other on pavement. The sensory alertness that happens once all your questions and answers and inner dialogue have disappeared. You become so aware of your aliveness, so grateful for it. Your spirit lifts.
It makes sense to me that many pilgrimages are made on foot.