The Walk in Atacama (Part 1)

A winding dirt road, next to a dry riverbed.  Clear blue skies, with some thin clouds like cotton.  Street lamps dot the path with the occasional little hostels along the way.  The wind gently blows, rattling the trees and the brush.  

When I first got to San Pedro de Atacama (a desert town in Chile), I realized that my AirBNB location was farther from the city center than I expected (I live in midtown Manhattan, so…).  After dropping off my stuff for the first time in my rustic little commune, I was dreading the 40-minute stroll back into town, now past sunset.  Little did I know how profoundly precious this walk would be…

On my way to town, I went the wrong way and realized I had to jump down into the riverbed, walking down the river path in pitch black, nervous I wouldn’t be able to climb back up.  Eventually, I saw a rocky staircase back up, laughing that I got nervous in the first place.  It was exhilarating - to be lost, and found again.  I loved how absurd this all felt.

In that moment, I paused. The stillness was so loud. The crinkling of pebbles under my feet made me feel like it was just me and the desert.  Breathing together.  The stars glittered like crystals.  Inspired by their beauty, I put in my headphones and flipped on “The Trade” by DLG.  The synth flowed through my body.  Euphoria sent shivers as I lifted my head toward the sky.  My arms floating on their own in the wind, buoyed by DLG’s smooth voice:  “I decided…I’ll never go back now”.

“The Walk”, as I now call it, quickly became my revered ritual in San Pedro between time resting at home and time on excursions or wandering the town. I particularly love the time right after sunset, the sky painted with warm color palettes and faint stars, mountains in the background, and rustic desert settlements.  

On The Walk, no one is around me.  No one to answer to.  No expectations to meet.  No comparisons to make.  No one watching me.  I had no other choice but to just be.

What emanated was quiet joy and contentment.  Freedom and transcendence.  The sky was a purple hue fading into a dusty yellow sunset.  Its majesty was overwhelming, humbling to think how lucky I am just to be alive in this universe.

The Walk is one of the first times, truly, I've gotten to exist as I am; without disturbance, without masking, without distortion, without performance.

Back in New York now, I can still feel The Walk with me. It follows me onto the subway, into meetings, through my apartment. A quiet reminder that underneath all the presenting and performing, there's still someone who knows how to float their arms in the wind and laugh at getting lost.

Maybe you have your own version of The Walk - or maybe you're still looking for it. Either way, I'm learning that the universe keeps these places for us, waiting patiently. We just have to give ourselves permission to find them.

Love,

Chris