Returning to Shikoku — Walking the Path Before Me

1 day ago
2 min read

In the autumn of 2024, I began a journey that stayed with me long after I left.

I walked part of the Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage, completing the first 28 temples. At the time, I didn’t fully understand why it felt so meaningful. I only knew that something inside me became quieter, softer, and more present with every step.

This November, I will return to continue the path.

And as I prepare to go back, I find myself reflecting on what draws me there.

It’s not just the temples.

It’s something more subtle.

I love Japan — its culture, its food, its simplicity, and the quiet reverence it holds for nature. There is care in the way things are preserved: the forests, the trails, the small details of everyday life.

Walking through Shikoku, I remember being surrounded by stillness.

The paths were quiet, often empty, as if time itself had slowed down.

And yet, these same trails have been walked for centuries — by monks, pilgrims, nobles, and seekers, each carrying their own questions, their own prayers.

To walk where so many have walked before creates a quiet sense of connection.

A feeling of being part of something much larger than myself.

There were moments I still remember vividly.

The kindness of locals — small gifts, warm smiles, quiet encouragement as we passed.

No expectation. Just generosity.

I remember the deep, resonant sound of temple bells echoing through the air,

the gentle rhythm of monks chanting,

the quiet rituals of seekers dressed in white, wearing straw hats and carrying wooden staffs,

the beautiful calligraphy and temple stamps we collected at each temple we visited,

and the crisp forest air as we walked beneath autumn leaves.

And with every step, something simple but profound would return:

Presence.