Walk the Earth

Over the past few months, the universe has been quietly whispering to me about walking.

At first, I thought the messages were about physical exercise. I used to walk most weekends, immersing myself in nature—day treks, four-day island adventures, evening walks through forests. But lately, due to a change in my life routine, I haven’t walked as much as I used to.

But as the messages continued, I began to wonder: Is this about literal steps, or something deeper?

The first message came during a course I was taking. I heard the Latin phrase Solvitur Ambulando—“It is solved by walking.” The idea was simple: as we walk, we allow time for our subconscious thoughts to surface and somehow, solutions emerge. Another interpretation is: keep doing what you’re doing—keep putting one foot in front of the other—keep walking… and the direction will appear.

Soon after, I came across a blog post describing how Charles Darwin had a sand path created on his property—one he walked each day to think and reflect. The author framed walking as a practice for gaining clarity. 

Then, a friend told me about a book, Walk It Off—the story of a man walking the Camino. I bought it immediately. By this point, this book recommendation was no coincidence—it was another message about walking. In this delightful book, there is a phrase the author shares with us:

“This too shall pass. Until then—fetch water, carry wood, walk the earth.”

Walk the earth. There it was again. What does it mean to “walk the earth”? I have, in many ways, already walked the earth. Across deserts in Saudi Arabia. Climbing the Great Wall and mountains in China. Through landscapes in New Zealand, Australia, Africa, Jordan, Spain, the UK, America, and Mexico. Each step—every path—has shaped me. And yet, despite all the miles I have walked across the earth, was there still a part of me that did not trust the ground beneath my feet? What if walking is not only how we practically find clarity and solutions, but how we begin to trust life itself?

As I continued to read, the author repeatedly mentions a phrase common among those walking the Camino:

The Camino provides.

Camino—the Spanish word for “the way” or “the path”.

The way provides.
The journey itself provides.
The earth provides.

I began to realise that perhaps I was not being given a literal message to walk. I was instead being invited to understand something deeper—to trust that my journey through life, my walk through life, my way, will provide for me.

That night, I went to bed with a quiet but uncomfortable question: What is it within me that does not fully believe that “the way” provides?

I have a personal framework I use for self-reflection—one that speaks of Shadows and Gifts. In that language, this was my Shadow stepping forward—not to be judged, but to be seen. Not to be pushed away, but to be understood as the doorway to my Gift, and ultimately, my Essence.

I could feel it in my body—A whisper of unease. A lifetime of believing that I had to earn my place on earth. That the idea that I belonged and therefore was supported, simply because I existed, was not in my internal belief system.

As I reflected back on my travels, I was aware that life had indeed provided for me—again and again—but perhaps in ways I had labelled as “just enough.” My daily bread. And in my reflections, I noticed an old narrative: Life is tough. I have to work hard and abundance is somehow unevenly, and perhaps even unfairly, distributed.

So, as I went to sleep, I asked—whether to the universe, my higher self, or something deeper within—for guidance. The next morning, I pulled a card from a deck a dear friend had sent me only a few days before—The Greatness Quest. For six days, I had been drawing one card each morning. That day, the card read:

Providence. Good fortune. Inner wealth™.

I smiled as I read the words:

I am always in the midst of showers of blessings…
I see the world conspiring to help me…
I am the greatness of knowing I am blessed.

And there it was—a realisation I could no longer ignore. I did not fully believe that I AM blessed. I did not fully trust that the world—this earth, my way—supported me.

I sat with these words for a long time. Beneath them, something tender was surfacing. Not just the question, “Can I trust life?” but something older, quieter, more personal: Am I worthy of being supported by life itself?

This was the real issue which I had been circling for years without knowing it. I had to shift my internal belief system, from, I must earn my place, to, I am already held within the path, simply because, I exist. The Gift of worthiness was there for me to grasp.

On the Camino, pilgrims are told a Basque word at the start of their journey which becomes a mantra for them: Ultreia—“onwards, forwards.” What if walking the earth is about taking the next step, moving forwards. To trust the ground beneath us, even when the path isn’t clear.

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote:
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.”

The Spanish poet Antonio Machado echoes this:
“Walker, there is no path. The path is made by walking.”

We see clarity only in hindsight. Looking back, we see the path. But forward… there is no certainty, only the next step.

The willingness to move onwards, forwards—and trust that life supports us.

Is this the real miracle? Is this what it means to walk the earth? What if walking the earth isn’t just about movement—but a quiet conspiracy of kindness? What if each step is an act of trust? What if our walk is not something to endure—
but something that provides?

To walk with presence.
To walk with intention.
To walk in kindness—through acts of love and compassion.

This is the Gift. And perhaps, as we continue, something even deeper reveals itself—

The Essence. A remembering. That we belong. That the earth is not something we walk on, but something that walks with us. That we are not separate from the path—we are the path, unfolding. That our journey provides exactly what we need for our becoming, and that each small act—each step taken in love—contributes to something greater.

Meliorism — the belief that we can contribute to positive change and improve the world through acts of love, creativity, compassion, and kindness.

Meliorism, the belief that I am contributing and improving the world through one simple act of love, creativity, compassion or kindness. Not grand gestures. Not certainty about the destination. Just the next act of kindness, the next creation or gift of compassion.

So now, when I think about walking the earth, it feels less like an instruction to do something… and more like an invitation to remember who I am, and why I am here. I am here to be love, to give love, to receive love. Not just materially, but energetically, spiritually, and emotionally.

Perhaps the question of purpose is not whether or not we know where we are going—but whether we are willing to simply walk. Each small act—each step taken in love—contributing to something greater.

So, I walk.

Knowing that the way provides—and that I am already held within it. This is my journey.

To trust.
To give love.
To receive love.

To take one step at a time—ultreia—onwards, forwards.

The next step, and the next…the endless next.

SkyeMckenzie@worldhappiness.foundation