Before we get stuck in, a reminder that through August we’re offering early-bird pricing on our upcoming Autumn walk
(October 31 to November 9).

Head to our website to find out more and apply.

One of the questions we’re asked most frequently is some version of: who will I walk with?

And when you’re considering spending 9 days walking, eating, and sleeping alongside a group of strangers, it’s an entirely reasonable question to ponder.

There are two parts to the answer. First, the demographic one:

The people who want to walk with us range from their mid-20s to their late-50s, although as experience proved on the Camino de Santiago, age is no barrier, body willing: I got my arse absolutely handed to me on the hills of Galicia by an 85-year old retired truck driver from Melbourne.

We also get enquiries from a rich mix of genders and backgrounds. Though some may know each other beforehand, as a rule, we’re going to be strangers to one another. It’s here that, perhaps, some fear can emerge: what are the other people going to be like? Will they like me? Will they think like me? And what if someone really wants to talk about his podcast for 9 days straight? How will I ever cope!?

And its from here that the second part of the answer stems:

When we arrive in Tokyo, there’s the shock of the new — not just of the city, but of the people we’re going to be spending the next nine days with. Disoriented, displaced from the day-to-day, and disconnected from the comfort of roles we play at home, a natural tendency emerges, one that will have us signal and receive signals of status. We try and form a kind of social hierarchy to help us find our place — where does she work? Is he part of that group and does he follow that particular belief? Or —*wink*— are they single, per chance?

But in this displacement and disconnection, a different kind of opportunity emerges, too. We get to leave those well-worn markers of identity at the door and ask the question of ourselves and others: what lies beneath? The people we’re about to walk with, if we want them to, can help us find the answers. Through this lens, the person that triggers the shit out of us, or simply comes from a background wildly different to our own, can be just as beautiful a teacher as the person who immediately sees and welcomes us for who we are. So we spend structured time calibrating and setting agreements that offer safety, sharing an intention for our walks, and getting curious about one another. In so doing, we lay a foundation of connection for what’s to come.

That calibration continues for the first few days as our bodies acclimate to the movement, as our heads and hearts acclimate to one another, and as we settle into the rhythm of the walk: wake-eat-walk-eat-walk-eat-sleep-repeat.

And as we settle, so does the connection. Space opens up for silence and solitude, met by the space of the shrines we rest at, and the spaciousness of the world through which we walk. As the nervous system of the group relaxes, so does our own, and the things that we might guard against at home finally find some room to move. As the landscape changes, so do we.

Who we walk with, then, is less about age, gender, or the roles we play at home. It’s about what’s calling us to walk in the first place, that sense that something within us wants to move and be moved through deeper connection. It’s also about the spirit that each individual brings and how that spirit goes on to animate the group. Because while the change we experience will be internal, it’s the group that holds us in the process.

If you’d like to walk with us this Autumn, we still have some early-bird places available.

Find more about the walk and apply to join us.