The sound of silence echoes through the morning as I walk the magnificent countryside in Galicia, Spain. It’s one of my last days on the Camino, ending a two week pilgrimage with fellow writers. The dirt path winds through the forest and along a riverbank replete with ash, willows and the ever present oak and pine. The early morning sun sends rays of light through the trees. Only occasional hints of bird song and my fellow pilgrims’ footsteps ripple across the silence.

Earlier that morning, our writing teacher asked us to walk in silence and ponder a few questions. What might silence teach us? What does silence invite?

I listen to my breath, and my footsteps as they crunch acorns on the path. My thoughts bounce around and then become quiet. My breath slows.

As I walk, I hear water flowing over ancient algae covered rocks, the wind through the oaks, pigeons cooing on the roof a church, and trucks on a distant highway. I bend down to take a picture of a red ladybug on a blooming mint. Would I have seen it had I not been walking in silence? Or stopped to admire the purple heather by the roadside?

Silence increases the chance to be stunned by beauty. We see so much more when we quiet our minds.

I also see my fearful thoughts and worries, and how they take over, dampen my heart and ability to be present. Thoughts like, ‘I’m 70 now and death is waiting for me right down the road. It’s hiding in the bushes for an ambush when I least expect it.’ I had my brush with death several years ago and crawled away from the fight battered and bruised but still alive. Wasn’t that enough?

I can choose whether to wallow in negative thoughts or let them go. There is a big world outside my small mind waiting to be explored. I can live in this precious moment instead of the past or future. Silence invites me to try. When I began a regular meditation practice years ago, I discovered the expansiveness surrounding my tiny self. It’s there for the taking.

Under azure blue skies, I look up to see the transitory beauty in the unique cloud patterns creating angels, elephants and moon faces. We walk through rolling hills, sun filtered forests, vibrant green pastures dotted with golden cows and white sheep, ancient weather-beaten stone villages where friendly cats come out to greet us on the cobblestones.

Instead of being caught in a regular storm of activity, this morning I’ve spent time away from the demands of the world and my everyday thoughts. I know I will return, but I’m grateful for this respite. Silence and nature have allowed me to connect with the beauty and oneness living just below the noise.

I’m learning that sacredness can’t be understood by thought, but it can be experienced in silence.