A Letter Written on the Pilgrim’s Path

Since it was a road I had to walk anyway, I chose to walk it quickly.

On the verge of seventy, I wanted, perhaps, to prove my strength.

At a small café along the pilgrimage route, I met a middle-aged pilgrim from England.

He told me it had taken him several days to get there—

twice as long as it had taken me.

I asked him if the walking was difficult…

He replied, quietly,

that he preferred to walk such a beautiful path as slowly as possible,

so that the feeling of the pilgrimage might linger longer.

“Doesn’t it feel wasteful,” he asked,

“to let the remaining distance shrink too quickly, day by day?”

In that moment, I felt a quiet shame for the way I had hurried along,

almost as if I were racing.

Only then did I realize—

the path does not exist merely to be reached,

but to be dwelled in, to be felt.

I had believed that arriving quickly at the destination was all that mattered,

yet in doing so,

I had been passing over so much—

a single wildflower, the scent of the wind,

even the soft breath of my own heart.

— from Santiago Pilgrimage Notes by Ki Jun Kwon

Today’s Reflection

★ Life, too, is a pilgrimage.

We rush along its path, breathless and hurried,

only to arrive all too quickly at the final destination—death.

And then, we regret.

For all we have gained along the way

is the memory of having walked in haste.

In the quiet pause of a cup of coffee,

may we reflect on the pace we now keep,

and choose our steps anew—

so that our lives become not a race,

but a pilgrimage. ★

Dawn Light Letter