We often hear people say, “Slow down,” or “Stop and smell the roses.” We understand what they mean. Take a moment. Look around. Pay attention to the things you might otherwise miss.
But hiking can sometimes encourage the opposite.
Put in the miles. Get to camp. Beat your previous time. Reach the summit.
There is nothing inherently wrong with any of those things. Hiking faster can challenge us, build endurance, and help us reach goals we have set for ourselves.
But slowing down offers something different.
There is a strange thing about slowing down. Sometimes it helps you go further. Sometimes it allows you to accomplish more. And sometimes it brings things into focus that speed has blurred.
Finding Your Pace
Hike a popular stretch of trail during the busy season and you will meet all kinds of people.
Casual hikers out for a few hours. Thru-hikers trying to reach the next campsite. Trail runners. Families. Solo hikers. People stepping onto a trail for the first time and people who have walked thousands of miles.
Everyone moves at a different pace.
Some are pushing themselves. Others are holding back. Some are taking in everything around them, while others are focused on the trail ahead.
When we intentionally slow down, something interesting can happen.
And I’m not necessarily talking about walking slower.
Sometimes it is our minds that need to slow down.
Our bodies have a natural rhythm. When we stop worrying about distance, time, or keeping up with someone else, we may discover a pace that feels more comfortable.
When I first began hiking over thirty years ago, my goal was often to keep up.
Over the years, I developed my own pace. I learned how fast I could comfortably walk, when I needed to rest, and how to manage my energy over longer distances.
I had found a rhythm that worked for me.
The Eremos Pace
When I began preparing to lead others on the trail through Eremos, I realized I could no longer think only about my pace.
I needed to think about our pace.
I began intentionally walking slower. Not because I had suddenly become a better hiker, but because I needed to learn how to hike differently.
I started noticing resting places I would normally pass without a second thought.
Small clearings beside the trail. Places near a creek where someone could sit for a while. Views that weren’t marked on a map or listed as destinations.
Places I had walked past many times without really seeing them.
When distance is the goal, these places are easy to miss. But when I stopped measuring a hike primarily by how far I traveled, they began to matter.
And something else began to change.
My mind slowed down too.
Instead of thinking about the next climb or how many miles remained, I began thinking about the people who would be walking with me.
Some might never have stepped onto a trail before. Others might be experienced hikers carrying burdens that had nothing to do with the weight of their packs.
They would arrive with different abilities, different expectations, and different reasons for being there.
I needed to make room for all of them.
The purpose of an Eremos experience is not to put in as many miles as possible and then briefly talk about God.
The purpose is to create space for people to step away from their everyday lives, slow down, and become attentive to what God may be revealing.
And that begins with how I lead.
What People Begin to Notice
Up to this point, I’ve talked about what I began noticing when I slowed down.
But what about the people walking with me?
Slowing my physical pace makes room for someone who may be uncertain about hiking. They don’t have to worry about keeping up with someone else’s expectations. They can begin to find their own rhythm.
Slowing my mind makes room for conversation.
It allows me to listen instead of always thinking about where we need to go next. It gives someone the freedom to ask a question, share something on their mind, or simply walk quietly.
And when I am not rushing, I can be more attentive to the people around me.
That doesn’t mean everyone will immediately relax or feel comfortable. Some people need time. Some carry worries that don’t disappear simply because they have stepped into the woods.
But slowing down can give them room.
Room to notice the sound of water moving over rocks.
The way sunlight passes through the trees.
The small things they might have overlooked while concentrating on the next step.
And perhaps, as the distractions begin to fade, they may notice something beyond the trail itself.
A thought they have been avoiding. A question they haven’t had time to consider. A burden they have been carrying for so long that they barely notice its weight.
They may begin to recognize God’s presence in a way they hadn’t before.
Not because He suddenly arrived when they slowed down, but because they have made room to pay attention.
The Trail Is Not Magical
There is nothing magical about the trail.
The same slowing down can happen at home, in a quiet room, or while sitting on a porch.
God is not waiting somewhere in the wilderness for us to find Him.
He may be at work in our lives right now.
The trail simply gives us an opportunity to step away from some of the noise and distractions of everyday life. For a few hours, we can leave behind the constant demands on our attention and practice being present.
Slowing down can open our eyes and ears, physically and spiritually.
But there is no formula.
There is no guarantee that walking slowly through the woods will lead to a spiritual encounter. There is no promise that every question will be answered or every burden will suddenly feel lighter.
And someone who never steps onto a trail is no less able to hear from God.
Slowing down is not a requirement for God to speak.
It is a posture we can choose.
A posture of humility. Of listening. Of obedience.
Sometimes we spend so much time looking for the next thing that we overlook what is already in front of us.
Perhaps the invitation isn’t to go somewhere new or do something extraordinary.
Perhaps it is simply to become more attentive to where we are and to the God who is already present.
Step Away. Slow Down. Listen.
Those words are more than a tagline for Eremos. They have become a practice that shapes my days, weeks, and months.
You don’t have to wait for a wilderness experience to begin.
Try it where you are.
And when you’re ready, I’ll see you on the trail.
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