Beyond the Tourist Trail: Listening to the Quiet Wisdom
Beyond the typical tourist spots, there are places that don’t show up on maps or in brochures—wild, untamed landscapes where something deeper waits to be remembered. In these less-traveled corners of the earth, something ancient stirs. The wind speaks. The trees offer company. The rain blesses. And the quiet invites us inward.
These are the spaces that open the heart.
In such moments, something becomes clearer: the spoken language of wisdom - the teachings once passed from elder to child, from ritual to rhythm - is fading. Not because it has lost its power, but because we, collectively, are remembering slower. Unless these truths are spoken, lived, or written down, they slip quietly into forgetting.
A question often rises in these still places:
What else is there?
It’s a question that doesn’t just linger in the mind but works its way into the soul.
It asks us to sift gently through the noise of inherited beliefs, assumptions, and identities we may have never truly questioned. It invites a kind of inner excavation.
Have you ever wondered who you are beyond what you've been told?
It can be so easy to accept someone else’s truth, especially in spaces that feel loving or spiritual. But even in those circles, discernment is essential. Not from judgment - but from self-honoring. Does what you hear lift you? Does it feel like home inside your bones? Or is it simply easier to nod along?
There’s no blame in realizing this. Many of us have done the same. The journey is not about being perfect, but about waking up - bit by bit - to our own knowing.
Recently, I walked through the highlands and soul of Scotland. Her spirit - lush and rugged - offered love, patience, and ancient recognition. Even when I staggered, unsure of my footing, the land held me. The people, too - kind, wise, gentle-hearted - felt like soul family. I remembered, again, that guidance always surrounds us, whether seen or unseen.
And in that remembering, clarity begins to root.
Gratitude rises for all of it: for the earth, for the quiet guidance, for the people who have come and gone and stayed. Each one a teacher. Each step a blessing.
How often do we get to walk a path where the stones whisper stories? Where wild raspberries offer themselves freely? Where wind becomes a companion and cleavers show us their medicine? These aren't fantasy moments - they're invitations. The Earth is always speaking. The elements are always reaching out.
Even the stories held in the land - battlefields, ancient ruins, whispered legends - can be experienced through new eyes. One can feel the history, yes, but also go beyond it. Beneath the suffering, there is always something more. Love hums quietly under it all. That’s what the silence reveals.
And maybe, in the end, we are all pilgrims. You and I.
Different landscapes. Same longing. Same path toward truth, belonging, and love.
With love,
Susan
Image taken by the healing waters of Brigid, Iona, Scotland