Casper ter Kuile

When we’re in the rhythm of the collective, we can be freed of our isolationist perspective. For a brief period of time, the lie of our
separateness is exposed, and we remember that we are wholly connected to one another

Though we long for connection and love from others, we also fear it the most. It means taking the risk to be vulnerable and open. We worry
that we’ll be constricted by the relationships of care, that our creativity will suffer. We want to belong and then fear the little sacrifices that this belonging will demand of us as we make space for others around us. We want to be special. Different. Unique. We fear the discipline and commitment that will be asked of us.

Priya Parker’s advice in her wonderful book The Art of Gathering

OUR AWARENESS of who we are, and whose we are, is deepened when we connect to the natural world.

Often it is in nature where we feel a profoundly moving sense that we are connected to everything around us.

Coined by Richard Louv, nature deficit disorder describes the human costs of alienation from nature, among them diminished use of the senses, attention difficulties, and higher rates of physical and emotional illnesses.

We are not separate from nature, we are nature itself, and we are very much in this together.

A pilgrimage isn’t defined by distance, but by transformation.

Pilgrimage might also be right for you if you find yourself without words to describe what you’re going through. We can walk, rather than talk, through our grief.

Even the most unremarkable suburb is drenched in story. Discovering factual history, family stories, fairytales, or local legends—this is part of pilgrimage, retelling and perhaps reinventing stories that connect our souls to the soil.