Walking in silence
Finding moments of quiet in a world filled with noise
Hello walkers and writers 👋🏻
Since starting this newsletter in May 2022 The Writer’s Walk has connected me with all kinds of lovely people. I’ve chatted with writers who’ve told me it’s inspired them to go hiking, and I’ve met hikers who’ve been inspired to pick up a pencil and write about their walks. I’ll be sharing some of their stories next year.
Until then, here’s our last edition of the year. I wasn’t sure what to share with you for this one – I have a stack of walking themes and ideas, so I was spoiled for choice. But after chats with friends, walkers and writers recently, I’ve seen that a lot of people are feeling overwhelmed and are looking for ways to slow down and find some calm. I am, too. So after chatting with a friend who told me that she always walks in silence as it helps her to switch off, I decided to reboot an edition I shared over two years ago.
Walking
If you’ve been following The Writer’s Walk for a while, you may have noticed that most editions are less about the physical act of walking and more about what happens when we slow down and take a moment to give the world our attention.
When I walk in silence – which I do a lot because I often walk alone – I’m able to tune into things more clearly than if I’m on my phone, listening to music or chatting with other people. And that act of observing is more than simply sensing everything around me – like people passing by on a busy city street, the sound of my boots on a rocky trail, or the tickle of a breeze against my face.
Walking quietly, and with my phone off, can return me to a feeling of calm after a busy day of chatter, emails, calls, meetings and the constant pings and notifications that go with our digital lives. It can also open me to whatever’s going on in my inner world, which in turn helps me to be more mindful of my thoughts and emotions.
The most magical moments I’ve experienced when walking is when I’ve got close to nature. And one of the most memorable of these moments was in the North Yorkshire Dales when I walked past a rundown cow’us1 and spotted a barn owl sitting on the rafters. I paused and watched for a while, staying as still as I could, so I wouldn’t disturb her.
And there’s been countless other moments, too. Walking silently has brought me closer to deer, foxes, birds, goats, hares, wild ponies and stoats.
My dad, a typical Yorkshireman who used words sparingly, would tell me that we’re born with two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak. I think he was right. We listen better when we stop talking.
I love that listen is an anagram of silent. Another anagram is inlets – a place of entry or to let something in. There’s a beautiful symmetry to that, isn’t there? By being silent we can listen and let in everything around us.
So for our last walk of the year, I invite you to take a gentle stroll in silence. Give yourself the gift of calm and see what it allows you to let in.
Writing
Silence is also a good place for reflection. So for your writing this time, I invite you to reflect on your silent walk, and the experience of moving slowly and quietly, and what it helped you to notice. Here’s a few prompts to get you started.
Walking in silence helped me notice…
During my walk I felt…
As I listened, I heard…
I took a breath and let in…
As always, I hope you get something from both your walking and your writing. And please do share your experiences as a comment.
Before I sign off, I’ll leave you with this last thought on how walking and silence belong together:
“All my walks have been different, but looking back I see one common denominator: inner silence. Walking and silence belong together. Silence is as abstract as walking is concrete.”
Erling Kagge2
Until next time,
Sarah
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More from The Writer’s Walk
As we wrap up the year, you might enjoy this post on walking to reflect on the things that brought you gratitude over the last year.
Cow’us or cow house is a phrase used in the Dales, particularly Swaledale, for a field barn.
From p8 of Walking by Erling Kagge
Fabulous stuff! Weirdly, I have increasingly found myself singing, initially to sheep and cattle, but increasingly to the landscape, when I walk. It... does something. I really should try to make some walks in silence though (I annoyed myself yesterday by listening to podcasts as I headed up the fell - I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't stop myself).
We have barn owls living by us - if I open the front door at 5am, one will often fly out of the barn. Also bog owls (AKA short-eared owls) and, although I've yet to see one, little owls. And my greatest reward from silent-ish walk this autumn was to encounter a HUGE adder basking in the long grass. Do pay us a visit if you're ever up this way - we're about an hour's drive north of Swaledale.
Excellent advice in this over-noisy world.