Wandering into Spaciousness

This month’s blog is a little different—perhaps because life feels different right now. It’s the height of the school holidays. Many of us are stepping out of our usual routines, juggling family time, travel, or simply trying to catch our breath in the midst of summer.

So I wanted to share something personal. Each year, around this time, I take myself away—completely on my own. I walk somewhere I’ve never explored before, with no agenda, no fixed routes, and no digital distractions. I go offline. No social media. Minimal screen time. Just my feet, my breath, and the land beneath me. This year, I went to the Italian Dolomites, the beauty of the mountains, the wild flowers, and the changing skies just blew me away.

It’s become a kind of annual ritual—a time to reset, recharge, and reconnect. A time to gently let go of the ideas I hold about myself. Because self-discovery, as we all know deep down, is a lifelong journey.

There’s something truly powerful about walking without a plan. Our culture loves a shortcut. We’re constantly guided to follow reviews, expert advice, or “top 10” lists. Even when walking, we want to know the best route, the must-see view. But when I choose to let all of that go, something beautiful happens. I start to truly listen—to my body, to the landscape, and to what I really need.

There’s a quiet kind of wisdom that emerges when we move through the world like this—without pressure, without performance. When I allow myself to be rather than do, I begin to hear the answers I didn’t know I was searching for. My choices—big and small—become more intentional. This, I’ve come to realise, is where my power lives.

Even something as familiar as my morning meditation feels different when I’m in new surroundings. A break in routine jolts us out of autopilot. We notice more. We become more present. The birdsong sounds sharper. The scent of wildflowers, more vivid. My breath—more grounded.

And as presence expands, so too does spaciousness—in my heart, in my mind. From that space grows what I call response-ability: the ability to choose how I respond to life. Because let’s face it, we don’t get to control every event in our lives, we have all had challenges. But we do get to shape how we respond.

When we’re stuck in the busyness of everyday life—emails, errands, parenting, deadlines—it’s easy to miss those subtle choices. We end up on auto-response. But when I walk, when I slow down, a different kind of awareness emerges.

Of course, the unknown can feel uncomfortable at first. Our minds crave certainty. “What’s around the next bend?” becomes a metaphor for life itself. And yet, the more I allow myself to not need an answer, the more I start to feel... peace.

There is magic in meandering. In stumbling upon a hillside carpeted with wildflowers. In pausing to notice the curve of a petal, the way it catches the light, or wondering why it’s thriving in such a harsh spot. I let my curiosity guide me. No map needed.

Carl Jung once said, “What we resist, persists.” I carry that with me.

Sometimes, during these solo walks, old thoughts resurface. Doubts. Inner criticism. That sneaky voice: “Who do you think you are, wandering up here alone?” I used to push it away. Pretend I wasn’t feeling anything at all. But I’ve learned that resistance only deepens the imprint. What we suppress stays locked in the body.

So now I let the thoughts be. I let the emotions rise, without judging them, without needing to fix them. And something shifts. The tension begins to dissolve. There’s freedom in that.

Walking, I’ve come to believe, is one of the most natural ways to heal. It helps us process, gently. The rhythmic movement, the fresh air, the open skies—our nervous system softens. Our hearts do, too.

We all carry challenges. We all wish certain things were different. And our struggles, while unique, are part of the same human fabric. But if there’s one universal truth I’ve learned, it’s this: we can always begin with ourselves.

We don’t have to wait for the world to fix itself. We can start by making space within—by paying attention to our responses, tending to our emotions, and choosing how we want to show up.

And maybe—just maybe—by changing ourselves, we begin to change society too.

So wherever you are this summer—whether deep in the school holiday chaos or nestled somewhere quiet—I hope you find a pocket of spaciousness for yourself. Maybe a moment to walk, to breathe, to listen. Maybe even to let go of the plan, and see where life wants to take you.