Author: Margaretha Montagu

An Annual Pilgrimage as Executive Practice for Recalibrating Professional Judgment

#AnnualCaminoDeSantiagoEscape

Why do you attend a Camino de Santiago walking retreat every year? Because it helps me fine-tune my decision-making process.

In the glass-walled conference room, executives stare at PowerPoint slides, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of laptops. The air feels thin, recycled through ventilation systems and strained lungs. Someone mentions quarterly targets. Another checks his watch. Decisions are made in this room—important ones that affect hundreds of lives and millions in revenue—yet something essential is missing.

Two thousand miles away, on a dirt path winding through the French countryside, another executive walks alone. The morning light filters through ancient oaks, casting dappled shadows across the trail. Her smartphone rests at the bottom of her backpack, battery dead for three days now. She’s made no decisions more consequential than where to stop for lunch, yet her mind is clearer than it’s been in years. And in this clarity, she suddenly sees with perfect vision which of her recent professional choices sprang from wisdom and which from counterreaction.

This is Decision Recalibration—perhaps the most valuable and least discussed benefit of walking the Camino de Santiago. It’s not just a nice-to-have skill for today’s leaders; it’s an essential practice for anyone whose decisions impact others. Because in our pressure-cooker professional environments, how many of us can truly tell the difference between the choices we make from centred clarity versus those we make from reactivity?

Your Environment Influences Your Decisions

Did you know that your workplace is designed to make good decisions nearly impossible? I’m not being hyperbolic—I mean this quite literally. The modern professional environment is optimised for many things—efficiency, accountability, collaboration—but clear decision-making isn’t one of them.

Consider the forces at work: The constant ping of notifications creates artificial urgency. The cascade of emails demands immediate responses. The parade of meetings fragments attention. The subtle pressure of watching colleagues work late shifts your sense of appropriate boundaries. The quarterly targets loom like storm clouds, influencing every choice.

In this ecosystem, your brain adapts. It begins making decisions not from your wisest self, but from a reactive stance—responding to the loudest alarm, the most recent request, the most emotionally charged interaction. Worse, you develop neural pathways that normalise this reactivity until it feels like clarity.

Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio puts it elegantly: “We are not thinking machines that feel; we are feeling machines that think.” In environments charged with subtle pressures and unstated expectations, our feelings drive our thinking far more than we realise.

The most troubling part? It’s nearly impossible to detect this pattern while immersed in it.

The Camino de Santiago: Your Personal Decision Laboratory

This is where the Camino works its peculiar magic. Walking the ancient pilgrimage routes creates conditions uniquely suited for decision assessment—a controlled environment for examining your choices with unprecedented clarity.

The mechanics are simple but profound:

First, physical distance creates psychological distance. When you’re 500 miles from your office, the urgent email that seemed to demand immediate action suddenly reveals itself as something that can wait.

Second, the rhythmic act of walking activates different cognitive processes. Stanford researchers have found that walking enhances creative thinking by up to 60 per cent. This same enhancement applies to self-reflection and pattern recognition.

Third, the absence of digital interruptions allows sustained thought. Without notifications fracturing your attention every 84 seconds (the average in most workplaces), you can follow a single line of thinking to its conclusion.

Fourth, immersion in nature recalibrates your sense of time and importance. Research from the University of Michigan shows that even brief exposure to natural environments improves cognitive function and perspective-taking ability.

Finally, there’s the “pilgrim perspective”—the unique social environment of the Camino, where you share the path with people from all walks of life. The CEO walks alongside the college student, the doctor alongside the mechanic. Status markers disappear, replaced by shared humanity that contextualises professional concerns.

Together, these elements create perfect conditions for examining which of your decisions arose from clarity and which from reaction.

Daniel’s Crossroads: A Story of Recalibration

Daniel didn’t know he had a decision problem. As Chief Marketing Officer for a fast-growing fitness technology company, his reputation rested on confident, decisive leadership. His team described him as someone who “didn’t second-guess himself.” Board members appreciated his “bias for action.” He’d built his career on quick decisions that often proved right.

Yet at forty-three, with a career most would envy, Daniel found himself increasingly unsettled. The confident decisions that had built his reputation now kept him awake at night. Something felt off, though he couldn’t name it.

The breaking point came after a particularly aggressive product launch. The campaign had been his brainchild—a bold, contrarian approach that had seemed brilliant in the planning stages. When early metrics showed disappointing results, Daniel doubled down, shifting even more resources to the campaign. In marketing meetings, he squelched dissenting voices, interpreting their concerns as lack of vision. “Trust me,” he’d said, “I’ve been doing this for twenty years.”

Two quarters later, with the campaign objectively failing and millions wasted, Daniel found himself in his CEO’s office, facing uncomfortable questions he couldn’t answer. Why had he been so certain? Why had he dismissed concerns? Why had he escalated commitment when early data suggested caution?

That evening, Daniel stared at his laptop, reading an email from an old college friend who’d just returned from walking the Camino de Santiago. On impulse, he booked a three-week leave. His team was shocked—Daniel hadn’t taken more than four consecutive days off in seven years.

The first days on the French route were physically challenging but mentally even harder. Daniel walked fast, irritated by the slower pilgrims who clogged the path. He checked his phone compulsively, despite spotty service. He mentally drafted marketing strategies while walking, not noticing the landscapes around him.

On the fifth day, hobbled by blisters and exhausted from pushing too hard, Daniel found himself sharing a table with an elderly Frenchman at a small albergue. The man had been watching Daniel with gentle amusement.

“You walk the Camino like you are escaping something,” the man observed.

Daniel started to dismiss the comment, then paused. “Maybe I am.”

“What are you running from?”

The question hung in the air. Daniel surprised himself by answering honestly. “I made a series of bad decisions that cost my company millions. I don’t understand why I was so sure I was right.”

The old man nodded. “Ah, certainty. Tell me, how do you know when a decision is right?”

The simplicity of the question struck Daniel like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He had no idea.

The next morning, walking alone through a mist-covered forest, Daniel found himself replaying recent decisions—not just the failed campaign, but dozens of smaller choices. For the first time, he noticed a pattern: His most confident decisions often came not from clarity but from discomfort. When faced with uncertainty, competing opinions, or complex data, he grew more decisive, not less—as if decisiveness could banish complexity.

His “bias for action” wasn’t wisdom; it was a reaction to the discomfort of not knowing.

Three days later, crossing a particularly challenging mountain pass, Daniel felt an unfamiliar sensation—a quiet certainty different from his usual forceful conviction. He realised he needed to restructure his team, creating space for more deliberative processes. The solution wasn’t more confidence in his decisions, but more humility about his limitations.

That evening, he drafted an email to his CEO outlining the plan. Re-reading it before sending, he recognised the old pattern—the desire to act immediately, to prove his value through quick solutions. He deleted the draft. This decision deserved the space of his full Camino journey.

By the time Daniel returned to work, he had mapped his recent decisions into two categories—those made from clarity and those from reaction. He implemented a new personal practice: for any significant decision, he would first identify what discomfort might be driving his response. He created space for dissent on his team, rewarding thoughtful pushback rather than quick agreement.

Six months later, his team’s performance had significantly improved. “I still make quick decisions,” he told a colleague, “but now I know when I’m deciding from clarity and when I’m just reacting to pressure. That makes all the difference.”

The Recalibration Process

Daniel’s story illustrates the power of decision recalibration, but how exactly does one practice it on the Camino? While each person’s process will be unique, here’s a framework many executives find helpful:

First, create a “decision inventory.” As you walk, catalogue important decisions you’ve made in the past year. Don’t analyse them yet—simply list them mentally or in a small notebook.

Second, develop physical awareness of your decision states. When you recall each decision, notice sensations in your body. Reactive decisions often create tension in the chest or stomach, while clarity decisions typically bring a sense of expansiveness or peace. Your body knows the difference between reaction and clarity long before your mind admits it.

Third, ask clarity confirmation questions: “What was driving this decision?” “Was I moving toward something positive or away from something uncomfortable?” “Would I have made the same choice given more time and space?” “What information did I ignore or minimise?”

Finally, create an implementation plan. Identify specific practices you’ll adopt to bring Camino clarity back to your professional environment.

Why This Must Be an Annual Practice

Decision recalibration isn’t a one-time correction but an ongoing practice. Just as physical muscles develop imbalances without regular attention, our decision-making develops reactive patterns that require periodic reassessment.

As our roles evolve and challenges change, new reactive patterns emerge. The executive who has mastered one set of triggers may develop entirely new ones when promoted or faced with different pressures.

This is why many successful professionals make walking a section of the Camino an annual practice. Each journey builds on previous insights, creating compounding benefits that transform not just individual decisions but entire leadership approaches.

Michael, CEO of a healthcare company, describes it this way: “My first Camino retreat helped me recognise when I was deciding from fear instead of clarity. My second taught me how to create space for deliberation without sacrificing responsiveness. My third showed me how to help my team develop their own decision clarity. Each year builds on the last.”

The French Camino Advantage

While any Camino route offers benefits, the French path that wind through Nouvelle-Aquitaine and Occitanie provide unique advantages for decision recalibration.

The varied terrain mirrors different decision environments we face professionally. Moving through these landscapes embodies the different energies of decisions: some require steady endurance, others careful navigation of difficult terrain.

The cultural elements of southwest France—villages where time seems to have moved differently, local customs that prioritise patient enjoyment over efficiency—provide a powerful contrast to corporate values that often drive reactive decisions.

Recalibrating Your Decision-making Process

As we return to where we began—contrasting the conference room with the Camino path—we can now see the choice more clearly. It’s not that professional decisions can’t be made well in traditional environments; it’s that without regular recalibration, we lose the ability to distinguish between our reactive patterns and our wisest choices.

The quality of our decisions directly impacts the quality of our professional legacy. Yet few executives have concrete practices for assessing and improving their decision processes. The annual Camino pilgrimage offers exactly this—a structured opportunity to find clarity.

While you might not be able to walk the Camino tomorrow, you can begin the recalibration process today. The next time you face an important decision, pause and ask yourself: “Am I deciding from clarity right now?” Notice what your body tells you about the answer.

Better yet, consider joining us on a Camino de Santiago walking retreat this year. Your decisions affect too many people to leave their quality to chance. As the old pilgrim might ask: How do you know when a decision is right? The answer might be waiting for you on an ancient path through the French countryside.

Camino de Santiago Walking Retreats Camino de Santiago Standing at the Crossroads Retreat Tick-off-Your-Bucket-List Camino de Santiago Walking Retreat Walking and Writing Retreat: Find Insight and Inspiration with Every Step Book Lover’s Binge Reading Retreat and Christmas Binge Reading Retreat

How Holding Space Creates Room for Breakthroughs

My article The Strategic Void: The Professional’s Guide to Mind-Clearing Breakthroughs, made me think of the concept of “holding space,” which prompted the writing of this post.

The concept of “holding space” is a powerful complement to the idea of strategic emptiness. While strategic emptiness involves intentionally creating gaps in your schedule or environment to foster creativity and reflection, holding space focuses on the interpersonal aspect of creating that same supportive emptiness for others. It involves creating a safe, non-judgmental, and supportive environment where people can freely express themselves, explore their thoughts and feelings, and often find new insights or solutions.

During my Camino de Santiago retreats, I do both: I hold space and I create strategic emptiness for my guests – although similar, it is two different concepts. In the article I mentioned above, I discussed strategic emptiness. Below, I talk about “holding space” in relation to creating emptiness.

What is Holding Space?

Holding space is the act of being fully present and attentive to another person or group, to the exclusion of your own agenda, needs, and distractions. It’s about creating a container of acceptance and understanding, allowing them to express themselves without interruption or judgment. It involves several key elements:

• Active Listening: This goes beyond simply hearing the words someone is saying. Active listening means fully focusing on the speaker, paying attention to both their verbal and non-verbal cues. It involves making eye contact (when culturally appropriate), nodding, and offering brief verbal affirmations like “I see” or “Tell me more.” It also means resisting the urge to interrupt, offer unsolicited advice, or formulate your response while the other person is still speaking. Stephen Covey’s “Seek first to understand, then to be understood” encapsulates this principle.
• Emotional Presence: Holding space requires you to be aware of and acknowledge the emotions being expressed. This means recognizing that emotions are valid and important, even if they differ from your own. It involves empathy – the ability to put yourself in another person’s shoes and understand their feelings. You might reflect back what you’re hearing, such as, “It sounds like you’re feeling frustrated” or “I sense that this is bringing up a lot of sadness for you.”
• Non-Judgment: This is perhaps the most crucial aspect of holding space. It means creating a safe space where people feel free to be themselves without fear of criticism, rejection, or evaluation. It involves suspending your own opinions, beliefs, and biases, and accepting the other person exactly as they are. It’s about recognizing that everyone’s experiences and perspectives are unique and valid, even if you don’t agree with them.
• Compassion: Holding space is rooted in compassion, a deep awareness of the suffering of another, coupled with a desire to alleviate it. It involves offering kindness, understanding, and support, without trying to fix the person or their situation. Compassion recognizes that everyone is doing the best they can, given their circumstances.
• Respect: Holding space means valuing the other person’s thoughts, feelings, and experiences. It involves treating them with dignity and respect, regardless of their background, beliefs, or behavior. It’s about recognizing their inherent worth and humanity.
• Trust: Holding space requires building trust. The person sharing needs to feel safe that what they say will be kept confidential and that they won’t be judged or ridiculed. This trust creates the foundation for vulnerability and openness.
• Patience: Holding space often requires patience. People process information and emotions at different speeds. It’s important to allow the person the time they need to express themselves fully, without rushing them or interrupting their flow.
• Humility: Holding space is not about being the expert or having all the answers. It’s about recognising that the other person is the expert on their own experience. It requires humility to step back, listen, and allow them to find their own way.

How Holding Space Fits into Strategic Emptiness

When combined with strategic emptiness, holding space can enhance both your own creative process and the collaborative efforts of a team. Here are several ways they intersect:

1. Facilitating Breakthroughs in Others: When you practice holding space, you create an environment where others feel comfortable sharing their ideas and insights, even if they seem unconventional or vulnerable. This can lead to breakthroughs that might not have emerged in a busier or more distracting setting. By being fully present and attentive, you allow others to tap into their own “inner” strategic emptiness – that quiet space within where intuition and creativity reside. You’re essentially creating the external conditions that mirror the internal state needed for insight.
2. Enhancing Team Collaboration: In a professional context, holding space can significantly improve team dynamics and collaboration. When team members feel safe to express their thoughts and ideas without fear of judgment or criticism, they are more likely to engage in open and honest communication. This can lead to more innovative solutions, stronger problem-solving, and a greater sense of unity and psychological safety within the team. It fosters a culture where diverse perspectives are valued and where people feel empowered to take risks and share their authentic selves.
3. Supporting Personal Growth: By providing a supportive emptiness, you enable others to explore their challenges, aspirations, and vulnerabilities more deeply. This can lead to greater self-awareness, emotional processing, and personal breakthroughs. Holding space allows individuals to confront difficult emotions, gain clarity on their situations, and discover their own inner strength and resilience. It’s about empowering them to navigate their own journey of growth and transformation.
4. Creating a Culture of Strategic Emptiness: When leaders and individuals within a team practice holding space, they model the importance of strategic emptiness. This can create a broader organisational culture where taking time for reflection, silence, and creative exploration is valued and encouraged. Over time, this can lead to a more innovative, adaptable, and resilient organisation. It becomes part of the organisational DNA, influencing how people interact, communicate, and approach their work.

A Spell-Binding Anecdote: The Transformation in the Circle

I once facilitated a weekend retreat for a group of social workers who were experiencing burnout and compassion fatigue. They were exhausted, cynical, and felt deeply disconnected from their sense of purpose.

On the first evening, we gathered in a circle around a simple, unadorned space. I explained the concept of holding space and invited them to share, one at a time, what had brought them to the retreat and what they were hoping to gain. I emphasised that there were no expectations, no right or wrong answers, and that they were free to share as much or as little as they felt comfortable with.

The first few people spoke haltingly, their voices filled with pain and frustration. They talked about the overwhelming demands of their jobs, the constant exposure to trauma, and the feeling that they were making little difference. As I listened, I focused on being fully present, making eye contact, and acknowledging their emotions with simple, non-judgmental responses. I held the space for their vulnerability, their anger, and their sadness.

As the circle progressed, something remarkable began to happen. The act of being truly heard, without interruption or judgment, seemed to create a palpable shift in the atmosphere. People started to open up more deeply, sharing stories they had never told anyone before. There were tears, moments of silence, and occasional laughter. The shared vulnerability created a powerful sense of connection and empathy.

One woman, Sarah, a usually stoic and reserved social worker, began to speak about a particularly difficult case involving a child in severe neglect. As she described the child’s suffering, her voice cracked, and she started to cry. The other members of the circle listened in silence, their faces filled with compassion. No one offered advice or tried to fix her pain. They simply held the space for her grief.

Sarah continued to speak, her tears flowing freely. As she spoke, it was as if she was releasing a burden she had been carrying for a long time. When she finally finished, there was a profound silence in the room. Then, another woman reached out and gently took Sarah’s hand. “Thank you for sharing,” she said softly. “We’re here with you.”

In that moment, something shifted in Sarah. She looked up, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and relief. “I feel…lighter,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t realize how much I was holding onto.”

Over the course of the weekend, the transformation in that circle was palpable. As the social workers continued to share their stories and experiences, they began to reconnect with their sense of purpose and find new sources of strength and resilience. The act of holding space had created a container of safety and acceptance, allowing them to tap into their own inner resources and find healing in their shared humanity. The emptiness of judgment and interruption allowed their own wisdom and capacity for healing to emerge.

This anecdote illustrates the power of holding space to facilitate deep personal transformation and connection. It demonstrates how creating a supportive and non-judgmental environment can allow individuals to process difficult emotions, gain new insights, and discover their own resilience. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do for another person is simply to be present, to listen, and to hold the space for their experience, allowing them to fill the emptiness.

Practical Applications

The principles of holding space can be applied in a wide range of settings, including:

• Team Meetings: Start meetings with a brief period of silence or use open-ended questions to invite team members to share their thoughts and insights freely. Encourage active listening and create a culture where everyone feels safe to express their opinions, even if they differ from the majority.
• One-on-One Conversations: When having one-on-one discussions, whether with a colleague, friend, or family member, practice active listening and emotional presence. Put aside distractions, make eye contact, and focus on truly understanding the other person’s perspective. Resist the urge to interrupt or offer unsolicited advice.
• Therapy and Counselling: Therapists and counsellors are trained to hold space for their clients, providing a safe and supportive environment for them to explore their emotions and work through their challenges.
• Coaching and Mentoring: Coaches and mentors can use holding space to empower their clients or mentees to identify their goals, overcome obstacles, and develop their full potential.
• Facilitation: Facilitators use holding space to create inclusive and participatory group processes, where all voices are heard and valued.
• Conflict Resolution: Holding space is essential in conflict resolution, where it can help individuals to communicate their needs and feelings in a safe and respectful manner, and to find common ground.
• Spiritual Practices: Many spiritual traditions incorporate practices that involve holding space, such as meditation, prayer, and silent retreats.
• End-of-Life Care: Holding space is a crucial aspect of end-of-life care, where it involves providing comfort, support, and presence to the dying person and their loved ones.

Integrating Holding Space with Strategic Emptiness

To effectively integrate holding space with strategic emptiness, consider these guidelines:

• Create Safe Environments: Whether in meetings, one-on-one conversations, or larger gatherings, consciously cultivate a space that feels safe, welcoming, and non-judgmental. This might involve setting ground rules for respectful communication, ensuring confidentiality, and creating a physical environment that promotes openness and comfort.
• Practice Active Listening: Make a conscious effort to fully focus on the person speaking, both verbally and non-verbally. Pay attention to their body language, tone of voice, and the emotions they are expressing. Ask clarifying questions, reflect back what you’re hearing, and resist the urge to interrupt or formulate your response while they are still speaking.
• Cultivate Emotional Presence: Be aware of your own emotions and how they might be affecting your ability to hold space for others. Practice empathy and try to understand the other person’s feelings, even if they differ from your own. Acknowledge their emotions without judgment or dismissal.
• Encourage Reflection: Allow time for silence and open-ended questions to facilitate deeper thinking and self-reflection. Avoid the temptation to fill every moment with words. Create space for the other person to process their thoughts and emotions at their own pace.
• Suspend Judgment: Consciously suspend your own opinions, beliefs, and biases. Accept the other person exactly as they are, without trying to fix them, change them, or evaluate them. Recognise that their experiences and perspectives are valid, even if you don’t agree with them.
• Model the Behaviour: As a leader, facilitator, or simply as a friend or colleague, practice creating emptiness and holding space yourself, and encourage others to do the same. By modelling these behaviours, you can help to create a culture where they are valued and integrated into everyday interactions.
• Be Mindful of Power Dynamics: Recognise that power imbalances can affect how safe someone feels in sharing. If you are in a position of authority, take extra care to create a level playing field and ensure that everyone’s voice is heard and respected.
• Know Your Limits: Holding space can be emotionally demanding. It’s important to be aware of your own limits and to practice self-care. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or depleted, it’s okay to take a break or to seek support for yourself.
• Trust the Process: Holding space requires trust–trust in the other person’s ability to find their own way, and trust in the power of the process itself. Let go of the need to control the outcome, and allow the other person’s journey to unfold naturally.

By integrating holding space with strategic emptiness, you can create a powerful synergy that fosters creativity, innovation, and personal growth, both for yourself and for those you interact with. It’s a practice that cultivates deeper connections, enhances collaboration, and empowers individuals to navigate their challenges and discover their full potential.

#AnnualCaminoDeSantiagoEscape

Why do you attend a Camino de Santiago walking retreat every year? For the mind-clearing breakthroughs.

Picture this: the CEO of a tech empire or the maestro of mergers, vanishing into the ether for a springtime sojourn along a thousand-year-old trail. Or perhaps the investment banking wiz, retreating into ten days of serene silence among strangers. What’s their secret? They’ve discovered the art of making space for nothingness, and it’s a game-changer.

But doesn’t full calendars signify importance? Full inboxes indicate demand for our attention? Full meeting rooms suggest productive collaboration? Full minds demonstrate our readiness to contribute?

I used to think so, but since moving to my little farm here in the southwest of France, alongside th Camino de Santiago de Compostela, I have discovered that “fullness,” and “busyness ” are not as valuable professional assets as I had always thought.

Our modern world is a relentless whirlwind of emails, meetings, and deadlines. We’re so busy being busy that we forget the power of just… being. Neuroscientists, those seriously clever chaps, tell us that our brains thrive in moments of restful wandering. It’s during these quiet interludes that the default mode network—your brain’s creative think tank—gets to work, weaving together insights that might otherwise remain elusive.

Consider the empty coffee cup. In my house, this constitutes a small disaster, a coffee cup should be full of steaming coffee! The cup’s value lies not in the ceramic from which it’s made, but in the empty space it contains—the void that allows it to hold what nourishes us. Just as an empty coffee cup is the vessel that holds the reviving brew, so too is the emptiness in your life the space that fosters breakthrough thinking.

The Science of Strategic Emptiness

This isn’t just some philosophical musing. Neuroscience is on your side. When your mind is constantly engaged with stimuli—emails, meetings, decisions, deadlines—you operate primarily in task-focused, narrow attention mode. This mode is excellent for executing known processes but terrible for generating novel insights.

Breakthrough thinking requires activation of the default mode network—a constellation of brain regions that light up when you’re not focused on external tasks. This network, which becomes active during mind-wandering and unstructured thinking, plays a crucial role in making unexpected connections between disparate ideas—the essence of creativity and innovation.

The problem? Most professionals never allow their default mode the time and space it needs to work. We fill every gap with productivity—checking emails while waiting for coffee, listening to podcasts while exercising, and scheduling calls during commutes. We’ve engineered emptiness out of our lives, and with it, the very conditions needed for our most valuable thinking.

Strategic Emptiness in Practice

When you walk the Camino de Santiago pilgrims’ route, something remarkable happens. The simple, repetitive act of walking, combined with separation from professional demands, creates ideal conditions for the default mode network to activate. Without conscious effort, the mind makes connections and generates insights that remain elusive in more structured settings.

What makes this emptiness strategic rather than merely recreational is intention and integration. You approach it with specific questions or challenges in mind, not as analytical problems to solve, but as seeds planted in fertile ground. You trust the emptiness to work on these questions below the level of conscious thought. And you deliberately integrate insights gained during emptiness back into your professional context.

Maria’s Void: A Story of Strategic Breakthrough

Maria didn’t believe that emptiness can be beneficial. As CFO of a rapidly growing tech company, she prided herself on intellectual rigour and analytical precision. Her days were structured in 30-minute increments. Her mind was a repository of financial models, strategic plans, and performance metrics.

When her company faced a seemingly intractable cash flow problem—one that threatened not just growth but survival—Maria attacked it with her usual weapons: spreadsheets, scenario analyses, and late-night number-crunching sessions. Despite her efforts, a solution remained elusive.

It was her colleague Thomas who suggested the Camino. “You need to empty your mind,” he said. Maria laughed. Empty minds were for meditation retreats, not for solving complex financial problems.

“Just try it,” Thomas insisted. “One week walking the Camino. No spreadsheets, no models, no trying to solve anything.”

Desperate and exhausted, Maria reluctantly agreed.

The first two days on the Camino were torturous. Her mind kept returning to the problem, running the same calculations, considering the same options, reaching the same dead ends. By day three, something shifted. The rhythm of walking, the glorious landscape, and the absence of digital interruptions began to quiet her analytical mind.

On day four, walking through a stretch of oak forest, Maria stopped trying to solve anything. She surrendered to the emptiness, focusing only on the crunch of gravel beneath her boots and the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. For the first time in months, perhaps years, her mind was completely empty.

That evening, sitting outside, watching the sunset paint the hills gold, a question floated into her empty mind: “What if we’re measuring the wrong thing?”

The thought wasn’t analytical or structured. It arrived complete, like a visitor knocking at a door. As she allowed it space, it expanded. Their cash flow problem wasn’t a function of revenue timing or expense management as she’d assumed. It was a fundamental mismatch between how they measured business performance and the actual value they created.

The solution unfolded effortlessly in her mind, not as a complex financial model, but as a simple, elegant restructuring of their entire approach to business metrics. The breakthrough wasn’t in finding a better answer to the question she’d been asking, but in discovering she’d been asking the wrong question altogether.

When Maria returned to work, she implemented her new approach. Within three months, the cash flow problem had resolved itself, and the company had discovered new growth opportunities they’d previously overlooked.

“The strangest part,” Maria later told Thomas, “was that I wasn’t trying to solve the problem when the solution came. I had finally stopped trying. I had emptied my mind of everything I thought I knew, and that emptiness created space for something entirely new to emerge.”

The Annual Practice of Emptiness

Maria’s story illustrates why many professionals now make walking the Camino an annual practice rather than a one-time experience. Strategic Emptiness isn’t a technique to be applied occasionally when stuck; it’s a fundamental practice that creates ongoing conditions for breakthrough thinking.

The professional mind is like a garden that, without regular tending, becomes overgrown with assumptions, habitual patterns, and outdated models of reality. An annual pilgrimage serves as a clearing practice, removing what no longer serves you and creating space for fresh insights to take root.

The stunning landscapes of southwestern France, with their rolling hills and ancient villages, create natural conditions for the mind to empty itself of professional concerns and open to new possibilities.

The Courage to Embrace Emptiness

It takes courage to embrace emptiness in a professional culture that reveres fullness. It requires trust in processes you can’t see or measure. It demands you temporarily set aside your carefully constructed professional identities and the mental models that have served you in the past.

Yet for those willing to take this counter-intuitive path, Strategic Emptiness offers something precious: not just solutions to immediate problems, but ongoing access to your deepest creative resources and most valuable insights.

Six Ways to create Emptiness in your Professional Life:

1. The Pilgrimage Principle: Take a leaf out of Maria’s book and embark on a physical journey. Whether it’s the Camino de Santiago or a simple hike in the woods, the act of walking can clear your mind and spark new ideas.
2. The Silent Sojourn: Dedicate a day to silence. No phones, no emails, just you and your thoughts. Retreat to a quiet cabin, a monastery, or even a quiet corner of your home.
3. The Creative Cadence: Engage in a creative hobby that doesn’t require constant focus. Painting, playing a musical instrument, or even knitting can allow your mind to wander freely.
4. The Digital Detox: Schedule regular periods where you unplug completely. Turn off your devices, step away from your screen, and give your brain a much-needed break.
5. The Reflective Ritual: Set aside time each day for reflection. Journal your thoughts, ponder your goals, or simply sit in quiet contemplation. This practice can help you gain perspective and uncover new insights.

By intentionally making space for emptiness in your professional life, you’ll not only enhance your creativity and decision-making but also foster a deeper sense of fulfilment and well-being. So, go ahead—embrace the void. Your brilliant mind will thank you!

“Breakthrough insights rarely emerge from the busy, crowded spaces of our professional lives. Instead, these insights appear in the empty spaces we’ve deliberately cultivated.” Dr Margaretha Montagu

More and more frequently, I notice that my busy professional guests return year after year, to spend a week walking the same stretch of the Camino de Santiago, during a walking retreat at my little farm here in the south of France. Why? I asked, and got a variety of answers. It boiled down to good food, good wine, good company and spectacular scenery. Also familiarity, ease of access, and insightful chats.

On the Camino, something remarkable happens. The simple, repetitive act of walking, combined with separation from professional demands, creates ideal conditions for the default mode network to activate. Without conscious effort, the mind begins to make connections and generate insights that remained elusive in more structured settings.

Join us this year?

Camino de Santiago Walking Retreats Camino de Santiago Standing at the Crossroads Retreat Tick-off-Your-Bucket-List Camino de Santiago Walking Retreat Walking and Writing Retreat: Find Insight and Inspiration with Every Step Book Lover’s Binge Reading Retreat and Christmas Binge Reading Retreat

The Surprising Power of A Yearly Week-long “Pilgrimage” to the Southwest of France

“Pilgrimage” in quotation marks, because the Camino de Santiago trail no longer has a solely religious connection. These days, 200,000+ people walk the Camino every year to overcome personal challenges, process grief, find clarity at decision points, reduce stress, break unhealthy habits, disconnect from routine to gain perspective, etc.

Many walkers start walking for one reason but discover others along the way. The Camino has a reputation for “giving people what they need, not what they want,” with many reporting unexpected insights or growth areas that weren’t their original motivation.

More and more of my Camino de Santiago walking retreat guests come back year after year, to walk the same stretch of the Camino. Obviously, I have no objection, but I did wonder why they return with such persistent regularity, so I asked them:

• “Because it resets my mind and soul.”
  “No matter how much I achieve, the Camino strips away the noise and reminds me of what truly matters—connection, simplicity, and purpose.”
• “It’s my ultimate digital detox.”
  “In a world of constant emails and meetings, walking for a week with just my thoughts and the rhythm of my steps is the best way to recharge.”
• “The Camino teaches me resilience in a way the corporate world never could.”
  “Blisters, fatigue, unpredictable weather—it’s a humbling reminder that growth comes from discomfort. I bring that mindset back to my work.”
• “I meet the most inspiring people.”
  “On the Camino, titles don’t matter. I’ve had profound conversations with strangers who became lifelong friends—people I’d never cross paths with in my usual routine.”
• “It’s where I find my best ideas.”
  “There’s something about walking for hours that unlocks creativity. Some of my biggest breakthroughs happen between Eauze and Nogaro.”
• “It keeps me grounded.”
  “Success can inflate the ego, but the Camino brings me back to reality, humility and gratitude.”
• “It’s a physical challenge with a spiritual payoff.”
  “Pushing my body to walk kilometre after kilometre each day clears mental clutter. By the end of the week, I feel lighter, clearer, and more aligned.”
• “It’s my annual reminder that life is about the journey, not the destination.”
  “In business, we’re always chasing the next goal. The Camino teaches me to savour each step, not just the finish line.”
• “No other retreat gives me this combination of solitude and community.”
  “I can walk alone for hours in silence, then share stories over a communal dinner. It’s the perfect balance.”
• “Because every time I walk, I discover something new—about the world and myself.”
  “Each Camino is unique, just like each year of my life. I come back to see who I am this time.”

In the relentless pursuit of success, something curious happens to even the most capable professionals: perspective narrows, creativity stagnates, and the very qualities that drive achievement begin to erode. This is not a failure of talent or dedication, but a natural consequence of our hyperconnected, always-on professional culture.

What if the antidote to this modern condition lies along an ancient pilgrimage path?

I thought I would look into this a bit more by writing a blog series exploring why anyone, but especially successful professionals are making the Camino de Santiago an annual ritual rather than a one-time experience. I seems to me that this isn’t about going on a holiday—it’s about the strategic renewal of the mind, body, and spirit that drives professional excellence.

In the coming posts, we’ll explore twelve reasons why making this “pilgrimage” an annual practice creates sustained professional advantage that compounds over time:

• Strategic Emptiness – Hardworking professionals recognise that deliberate emptying of the mind creates space for breakthrough insights that can’t emerge in a packed schedule.
• Decision Recalibration – Walking the Camino creates distance from daily pressures, allowing you to evaluate which decisions you’ve made from clarity versus reaction.
• Physical Intelligence Development – Regular pilgrimage builds a somatic wisdom that enhances your leadership presence and decision-making ability, which cognitive training alone cannot provide.
• Identity Overhaul – Yearly stripping away of your professional identity and status regrounds you in your core values, preventing career success from becoming identity imprisonment.
• Complexity Detox – The Camino’s simplicity allows you to recognise which complexities in your organisations are necessary versus self-created.
• Controlled Vulnerability – Annual pilgrimages create safe spaces to experience vulnerability, building emotional resilience that benefits leadership throughout the year.
• Deep Network Cultivation – Relationships formed while walking transcend typical professional networking, creating powerful connections based on authentic humanness rather than utility.
• Perspective Recalibration – Regular pilgrimage serves as a “reset button” for professionals whose perspective has narrowed under pressure.
• Anti-Optimisation Activity – The Camino’s inefficient journey counterbalances the optimisation mindset that dominates professional life but often destroys your creativity.
• Legacy Contemplation Space – Annual walking retreats provide structured time to contemplate deeper purpose beyond quarterly results.
• Embodied Problem-Solving – Walking meditation unlocks solutions to problems that remain stubbornly unsolved through conventional analysis.
• Radical Simplification Laboratory – The pilgrimage provides a testing ground for determining your minimum viable lifestyle, with insights that transform your professional decision-making.

Admittedly, the Camino offers unique advantages that make it ideal for an annual professional pilgrimage:

First, it provides genuine geographic and psychological distance from centres of commerce, creating the separation necessary for significant perspective shifts.

Second, the French Camino route offers a perfect balance of challenge and accessibility. It’s demanding enough to break entrenched patterns of thought but accessible enough to fit within the constraints of a busy professional’s calendar.

Third, southwest France’s rich cultural heritage creates a multi-sensory immersion that accelerates the mind’s departure from habitual patterns. The region’s distinctive architecture, cuisine, and landscapes work together to awaken dormant senses and creativity.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, making this journey annual transforms it from a one-time experience into a developmental practice. Like any powerful discipline, the Camino’s benefits deepen and evolve over time, revealing new insights with each retreat as both you and your professional circumstances change.

In my upcoming posts, we’ll dive deeper into each of these twelve thought-provoking benefits, featuring stories from professionals who have made this annual pilgrimage part of their success strategy.

The most valuable investment for today’s leaders may not be another degree, an executive coach, or the latest business methodology—it might be walking an ancient path through southwest France, year after year, as part of an intentional practice of professional renewal.

Join us this year.

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“I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.” –Soren Kierkegaard

Claire’s Story

I wake to the gentle clatter of breakfast preparations at the farmhouse. There’s a reassuring hum of activity in the kitchen—our host trundling crates of rosy apples in, someone humming an old troubadour melody, the clink of butter knives on wooden boards. Thomas is already staking his claim on the biggest wedge of Colombiers, and I’m perfectly fine with that, as long as he saves me the crusts.

By the time I’ve slid on my walking shoes—broken‑in just so—I’m practically drooling at the farmhouse table. A crusty boule from the local boulangerie leans against mani‑pulés of tangy sheep’s milk cheese. There’s a riot of sun-ripened fruit: fuzzy peaches, sun‑blushed strawberries, sunset orange apricots. I pile my plate high, revelling in every bite like a gourmand on a mission. Truth is, I am on a mission: to fuel myself for an 11-kilometre walk through Gascony’s golden vineyards.

Sandwich duty calls next. We slice the remaining bread into generous rounds and build towers of cheese, ham, and a slather of tapenade so piquant it could start a revolution. I tuck the sandwiches into my pack—just in case we get hungry somewhere between Eauze and Manciet—and stash extra rounds of cheese in a cooler bag, which I will absolutely forget about until I’m halfway through the walk, at which point it will be the most welcome surprise.

“Are you ready?” our hostess calls from the yard, where her old Mini—Miraculous Maya, don’t ask—is idling like an eager puppy. We haul our packs in, and with a shudder and a puff of smoke, we’re off toward Eauze. I settle into the back seat, Thomas beside me, and we trade stories about who ate the weirdest thing on our last retreat (I’m still trying to un‑taste fermented anchovy paste).

In no time, Miraculous Maya glides into the shaded plaza at the foot of Eauze’s soaring cathedral. Its stone towers reach skyward, sun‑kissed and proud, like silent sentinels inviting us to begin. Thomas gives me a conspiratorial grin. “Best brunch ever?” he asks. I shrug with all the gravitas I can muster. “I’d walk an extra kilometre for just one more slice of that cheese.”

We pile out, stretching limbs that are used to the comforts of sofas and nothing more strenuous than gentle morning stretches. Our hostess swings Maya away, and we’re on our own. Twelve bells ring out from the cathedral—clear, jubilant peals that echo across cobblestones and ribbons of bright spring light. I listen to the last note dissolve into the sky, and that’s when I realise: I’m exactly where I want to be.

The path unfurls before us: a pale ribbon of compacted limestone and terracotta dust. We step off the plaza and into our vineyard idyll. Burrowed between the neat ranks of pruned vines, the air smells of fresh herbs—thyme, rosemary, French lavender—and something sweet, like honeyed afternoon sun. The vines stand sentinel, thin trunks coiled and spiky, buds just awakening with the promise of sap.

Thomas and I fall into easy conversation: the usual suspects—duck confit versus cassoulet, a childhood spent chasing fireflies—but it drifts inevitably toward the philosophical. “I think,” he says, kicking at a stray pebble, “we carry more weight in our heads than in our packs.” I chuckle and glance at the little pack I’ve arranged just so. “Speak for yourself,” I tease. “My pack could have been Mary Poppins’s bag.”

But he’s right. There’s a lightness in my step that no amount of cheese rounds could temper. I let my arms sway, my shoulders loosen, as we settle into one‑two, one‑two—fluent in the language of walking. Around us, the hills roll like gentle waves. Clay‑roofed farmhouses peek through cypress groves, and in the distance, cows graze, their languid chewing a pastoral lullaby.

At the halfway point, we stumble upon an ancient plane tree whose gnarled trunk is rough and cool to the touch. Below its dappled canopy, a stone bench waits like a wise old friend. We collapse onto it, peel off our packs, and unpack our picnic. I unscrew the cap of our thermos—water so cold it sings on contact with my lips—and for good measure, I produce a small flask of local Cotes de Gascogne rosé.

“Here’s to three hours spent walking,” I declare. I lift my glass; Thomas mirrors me. We sip, and the wine is crisp, floral, like spring itself distilled into liquid. We lean back and let a hush settle over us. Cicadas chirp in the undergrowth, a lazy soundtrack to our quiet reverie. Birds wheel overhead, and for a moment, the world contracts to this shaded clearing and these simple pleasures.

Revived, we rise and dust off. Thomas consults his map. “Four point eight kilometres to go,” he announces. I roll my eyes. “Maps,” I quip, “are for people who haven’t got apps on their phone.” He grins. “Lead the way, Mary Poppins.”

The trail climbs gently now, carrying us onto a broad plateau of vineyards that glisten gold under the afternoon sun. Each vine casts a delicate shadow, as if bowing to the day. I stop to point out a tiny wildflower. “Look,” I say softly, “it’s the universe in microcosm.” Thomas nods, struck by the same quiet wonder I feel.

We press on in companionable silence. There’s something beautiful in not filling every second with chatter—just the soft sound of footsteps and breath, the whisper of wind through leaves. It feels like an invitation to remember who we are when the world slows down, when we aren’t rushing from one thing to the next.

The descent into Manciet is a gentle slide through wildflower‑lined banks. Poppies flame red at the margins, ox‑eye daisies nod in the breeze, and somewhere close by, an orchard perfumes the air with the faint sweetness of blossoms. Ahead, the terracotta roofs of a village crouch beneath a church spire, and I realise my phone battery is dying on the prettiest scene of the day.

We soon find ourselves on the main street of Manciet. There’s a café with red‑check awnings and wicker chairs tucked under a plane tree. Thomas and I share a look. “Café crème?” he suggests. I nod emphatically—and watch in awe as the owner sets down two cups of a thick, creamy mixture in front of us.

The coffee tastes of sunbeams and secrets, and I close my eyes against the sweetness. “Perfection,” I pronounce, “in both flavour and location.” Thomas snorts in agreement, a coffee moustache on his upper lip.

Our hostess, ever punctual, arrives just then. Maya idles outside the gate, headlights warm like a welcoming smile. We climb in for the ride back to the farmhouse—Thomas dozing before the engine’s even starts ticking over, me lulled by the Mini’s gentle sway.

Dusk falls as we roll through shaded lanes; lanterns wink to life in cottage windows, rosemary and jasmine lining the roadside with evening perfume. I rest my head against the cool glass and let the day’s memories wash over me: the crunch of gravel, the hush under the plane tree, the riot of colour in Manciet.

Arriving back at the farmhouse, Maya finally exhaled her last contented puff for the day, a mechanical sigh after a journey surprisingly successfully completed. We tumbled out into the still sun-warmed courtyard, limbs pleasantly weary from the day’s adventures, the gravel crunching softly under our boots.

The lure of a steaming hot shower beckoned. Once inside the cool dimness of the bathroom, the ancient shower, with a protesting groan of pipes, roared to life. It wasn’t a harsh sound, though, more like a friendly dragon breathing warm, fragrant steam that quickly filled the small space. I gratefully stepped beneath the cascading water, letting it sluice over me, a liquid balm washing away the accumulated dust and grime of the day, coaxing the knots of tension from tight muscles. The simple act felt like a profound renewal.

Emerging from the steamy haven, enveloped in the soft embrace of clean clothes, I waddled towards the kitchen. From the very moment my bare feet touched the cool tiles of the hallway, a symphony of glorious aromas billowed around me, each scent a tantalising invitation. The sharp, savoury tang of garlic sizzling in golden olive oil danced with the sweet, mellow perfume of honey-kissed onions slowly caramelising in a well-worn pan. It was as if every good and comforting thing in the world had convened in this one rustic kitchen, a fragrant conspiracy designed solely to lure us in with promises of different types of nourishment.

I followed the intoxicating scent like a homing pigeon unerringly finding its way back to the loft. The weathered wooden table groaned under the weight of steaming dishes, each one radiating its own unique and irresistible fragrance. Soft candlelight flickered in the gentle dusk filtering through the open window, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Happy voices rose in a chorus of warm greetings, smiles crinkling around eyes that held genuine pleasure at our return. And soon, amidst the comforting clatter of cutlery and the murmur of contented conversation, dinner began – a feast for the senses and a celebration of simple togetherness.

If you’ve caught a whiff of these golden afternoons among the vines—and felt your heart quicken at the thought of laughter rippling through sun‑dappled forests—then I’d love to welcome you at your very own Camino de Santiago walking retreat here in Gascony, in the southwest of France. Here we trade crowded sidewalks for quiet limestone tracks, swap city sirens for the hum of bees in blossom, leave behind the rush, the relentless to-do lists, and make every meal an occasion (yes, even that picnic under the plane tree). If you’re craving a moment of mindful silence, my small‑group retreats promise a journey that nourishes body, mind, and soul.

If your soul is whispering “yes,” don’t ignore it. Book your Camino de Santiago walking retreat today.

Camino de Santiago Walking Retreats Camino de Santiago Standing at the Crossroads Retreat Tick-off-Your-Bucket-List Camino de Santiago Walking Retreat Walking and Writing Retreat: Find Insight and Inspiration with Every Step Book Lover’s Binge Reading Retreat and Christmas Binge Reading Retreat

It sometimes feels as if life consists of one transition after another – from career shifts and relocations to relationship changes, health challenges, or processing loss. These moments can feel overwhelming, yet with the right support, they can become tremendous growth opportunities.

As I mention in my article, Breaking the Cycle of Repeated Life Transitions, Changes and Challenges, simply enduring life transitions without extracting their meaning is the surest way to guarantee you’ll face the same fundamental challenges again… and again… and again.

That’s why I’m introducing a new daily, or on alternate days or at least weekly, practice to help you mine each life transition, so that you don’t have to repeat these transitions again and again:

I’m calling it the Mid-Chaos Memos, and I hope, in a very small way, I will help you cope with whatever crisis life has decided you need to “benefit” from at the moment.

“Change is situational. Transition, on the other hand, is psychological. It is not those events, but rather the inner reorientation or self-redefinition that you have to go through in order to incorporate any of those changes into your life. Without transition, a change is just a rearrangement of the furniture. Unless transition happens, the change won’t work, because it doesn’t take.” – William Bridges

You’ll find these touchpoints on both Instagram and LinkedIn, where you’ll also find my “Inspiring Quotes” series, to help you process your experiences.

My hope is that these moments of inspiration and reflection will become part of your support system, helping you through life’s various changes.

Mindful Miners vs Surface Skimmers

In the high-stakes world of professional achievement, we’ve mastered the art of the pivot. We navigate corporate restructuring, career changes, and industry disruptions with the composed exterior of seasoned veterans. We survive. We adapt. We move on.

Again and again.

I have, for a while now, been wondering why I seem to go through one life transition after another (and sometimes several at the same time) and I have realised that it’s because I focus so intensely on coping with the change(s), that I do not learn the lesson it’s there to teach me.

I need to pay more attention. To be more mindful and to look for the not-always-obvious-meaning embedded in the change.

The Illusion of Resilience

There’s a specific badge of honour we award ourselves when we weather life’s transitions—the promotion that demands relocation, the merger that transforms company culture, the entrepreneurial leap that redefines our identity. “I got through it,” we say, often with a hint of battle-worn pride.

Yet simply enduring life transitions without extracting their meaning is the surest way to guarantee you’ll face the same fundamental challenges again… and again… and again.

Consider the executive who changes companies every few years, always citing “toxic leadership” as the reason. Or the entrepreneur who launches business after business, each collapsing under the same communication breakdowns. Or perhaps the high-achiever who repeatedly builds success at the expense of personal relationships, only to find themselves achieving greater heights but with fewer people to celebrate with.

These aren’t examples of resilience—they’re examples of meaningless repetition. The tuition for life’s lessons isn’t cheap, mindlessly repeating the class is downright extravagant.

The Transition Trap: Why Super-smart People Mindlessly Repeat Painful Patterns

In my work with C-suite executives and founders, I’ve observed that the most accomplished among us often fall into what I call the “Transition Trap”—mistaking movement for progress and change for growth.

The trap works like this: When faced with a significant challenge or change, our sophisticated brains leap into tactical mode. We problem-solve the logistics. We manage the optics. We secure the outcomes. We apply frameworks and systems perfected through years of professional excellence.

What we rarely do is pause long enough to ask: “What is this transition trying to teach me about myself?”

Without this crucial reflection, we keep encountering the same fundamental challenges, just wearing different outfits each time:

• The visionary CEO who can’t keep a leadership team intact changes companies but never addresses their difficulty in sharing control
• The brilliant strategist who burns out every two years switches industries but never examines their relationship with perfectionism
• The serial entrepreneur who repeatedly reaches success then sabotages it never confronts their uncomfortable relationship with sustained achievement

The irony is stunning: Your greatest professional strengths—execution, efficiency, solution-orientation—can become your greatest obstacles to actual growth during life transitions.

From Survive-at-All-Cost to Meaningful Mining

So how do we break free from the costly cycle of meaningless transitions? The answer lies not in better transition management, but in a fundamentally different approach I call “Meaningful Mining.”

Meaningful Mining is the deliberate practice of extracting the essential lessons from life’s transitions rather than simply coping with them. It’s about viewing each transition not as an obstacle to overcome but as a message to decode.

Here’s how the practice works:

1. Recognise the Pattern, Not Just the Circumstances

When facing a transition, most accomplished professionals immediately ask “What needs to be done?” A meaningful miner instead begins by asking, “Have I seen this movie before?”

The circumstances may differ—a new job, relationship, or venture—but the underlying pattern often remains consistent. The key is to identify what feels fundamentally familiar about this transition.

Consider James, a brilliant technologist who had founded and sold three startups. Each venture followed the same trajectory: explosive growth, investor conflict, and eventually, a disappointing exit that left him wealthy but unfulfilled. When he came to me contemplating his fourth venture, I challenged him to identify the pattern.

“In each company,” he realised after reflection, “I eventually treated my investors like my overbearing father—someone to prove wrong rather than collaborate with.”

He added that this recognition was worth way more than any tactical advice on his new business model.

2. First, Acknowledge the Discomfort

Our professional training conditions us to eliminate discomfort through solutions – asap. But in transitions, discomfort isn’t an error message—it’s the signal we most need to hear.

Meaningful miners deliberately sit with the most uncomfortable aspects of their transitions, asking: “What about this situation makes me most uneasy, and what might that discomfort be trying to teach me?”

Sarah, a CFO who had changed companies three times in five years, always leaving after conflicts with marketing teams, discovered through this practice that her discomfort wasn’t about the marketing department’s “irresponsible spending.” It was about her fundamental belief that creativity and fiscal responsibility were inherently opposed—a belief rooted in her own abandoned artistic aspirations.

This revelation didn’t just change her next job search—it transformed how she approached collaboration across her organisation.

3. Extract the Essence, Not Just the Experience

Every transition contains within it an essence—a fundamental truth about who we are and how we relate to success, failure, control, vulnerability, and worth. Most of us collect experiences; meaningful miners extract essences.

The question becomes: “What essential truth about myself is this transition revealing that would be valuable in any context?”

For Michael, a successful executive facing a difficult midlife career transition, the essence wasn’t about which industry to move into next. It was the recognition that he had built his entire identity around being the youngest person to achieve each professional milestone—and now, at 45, that identity was no longer available to him.

The essential question wasn’t “what next?” but “who am I when I’m not the wunderkind?”

The Counterintuitive Economics of Meaningful Transitions

There’s a paradoxical efficiency to this seemingly “soft” approach to transitions. By taking longer upfront to extract meaning, you actually accelerate your long-term growth by avoiding the need to repeat essentially similar transitions.

Think of it as the difference between treating symptoms and curing the disease. Yes, symptom management brings immediate relief. But without addressing the underlying condition, you’re simply signing up for chronic treatment.

The economics are compelling:

• Time invested in meaning extraction pays dividends across all future transitions
• Emotional energy preserved by not repeatedly facing the same fundamental challenges
• Competitive advantage gained by evolving in ways your peers—still stuck in the cycle—cannot

Practical Steps: Becoming a Transition Alchemist

How do you transform from someone who survives transitions to someone who alchemises them into meaning? Here are three practices that my most successful clients have employed:

The Transition Journal

During any significant transition, commit to a daily practice of asking and answering these questions:

• What feels most familiar about this transition?
• What am I most tempted to immediately fix or solve?
• If this transition were trying to teach me something essential about myself, what might that be?

The key is consistency. The insights rarely arrive in dramatic epiphanies but rather accumulate through patient inquiry.

The Pattern Council

Form a small group of trusted peers who know you well enough to identify your patterns. Meet monthly to discuss transitions you’re navigating. The only rule: They can’t give advice on managing the transition; they can only reflect patterns they’ve observed in how you approach change.

This council serves as a mirror, reflecting what you often cannot see in yourself.

The Reverse Timeline

When facing a transition, don’t just plan forward—plan backward. Identify transitions you’ve navigated in the past that feel similar. Map the decisions, reactions, and outcomes. Then ask: “If there were a single thread connecting these experiences, what would it be?”

This practice reveals the script you’ve been unconsciously following and creates the opportunity to write a new one.

The Ultimate Competitive Advantage

In a world obsessed with disruption and pivots, there’s ironic power in consistency—not the consistency of circumstances, but the consistency of growth. While others repeatedly face the same fundamental challenges in new contexts, the meaningful miner evolves in ways that make previously difficult transitions increasingly navigable.

This is the ultimate competitive advantage: not just adapting to change but actually transcending the need to repeatedly learn the same lessons.

The next time you face a significant transition—whether professional or personal—remember that the true measure of your success won’t be how quickly you move through it, but whether you ever need to face this essential challenge again.

Because in the economy of a well-lived life, meaning is the only currency that never depreciates.

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Essential Tips from Experienced Travellers

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step—and a bit of preparation. Whether you’re joining one of my Camino de Santiago walking retreats or embarking on another adventure, the difference between a challenging ordeal and a transformative experience often lies in your approach. After decades of hosting retreats, I’ve gathered my retreat guests’ insights to help you travel not just with your feet, but with your heart and mind fully present:

Patience is an essential traveller’s virtue

When you are travelling, whether it is from London to Paris or London to Kathmandu, having loads of patience to trot out when needed can make your journey much more comfortable. Travelling calls for barrels full of patience, especially at this time of the year. If patience is not your thing, avoid travelling at peak times, as in over Christmas. We have given up trying to get to our family in the southern hemisphere for Christmas. We go a month later, during the worst of our winter, which means tickets are at half the price. If you do have to travel and things go wrong, take a deep breath and then tackle problems as creatively as possible.

Don’t take anything too seriously

The ability to laugh and to laugh at yourself while travelling can also make the whole experience more enjoyable. On the flight, watch the in-flight comedy. Or read a funny book. Think of a joke or a situation you found yourself in that made you laugh. Smile to yourself. Look at challenging events from the funny perspective. Nurture your sense of humour and keep it close at hand when travelling.

Keep your valuables safe while you travel

Losing your camera is one thing.

Losing your luggage is another.

Losing your wallet is annoying.

Losing your passport/driver’s license/health insurance card is seriously annoying.

Losing your phone is extremely annoying.

Losing your laptop, where you have scanned copies of all the above, is in a different league altogether.

To avoid losing your mind, keep tabs on your valuables while you are travelling. Back everything on your laptop/phone up (including emergency/contact phone numbers) on an external hard drive as well as online for easy access in case of need.

Hunt and capture memories

We now have digital cameras. Don’t forget to take lots of photos – you can always delete the less successful ones later. It is also a great way to keep a travelling diary, especially if you set the camera to imprint the date unobtrusively on each photo. Keep notes – a sentence or two will often suffice to re-ignite a memory later. As you may know, I am a great fan of journaling, and although while on holiday one may not have much time to write at length, a few sentences a day in a travelling journal can bring back memories as sharp as if it all happened yesterday many years later. Photos you can also share with others, especially useful if you are travelling alone and you want to reassure and share your experiences with loved ones at home. A picture often speaks more than a thousand words and it is important to stay in touch.

Always pack earplugs and keep them within easy reach

Essential for the phantom crying baby on the plane, for ignoring the noisily celebrating and completely drunk returning stag/hen party participants at the next restaurant table in the waiting lounge or the explosive snorer in the room four doors down the corridor, for excluding the deafening traffic noise while you are transferring from one airport to another, for obliterating the passenger in the seat next to you on the plane with verbal diarrhea…you get the idea.

Go out and meet the locals

Round here, a short stroll up the road will do the trick. You will come across Mme D’Angle mowing her front lawn, always ready to switch the machine off for a quick chat. Don’t worry if your French is limited, she is good at communicating with hand signals and body language. A bit further you will meet up with the vineyard workers having a quick restorative under a huge oak tree, always willing to share their tipple and talk about the state of agriculture in this country. Yet a bit further you may meet Mme Pontier, taking her dog for a walk to her husband’s grave in the village cemetery – if you want to know anything about the history (or the hottest village gossip) of the region, stop and ask after her health. Small but potent ways to enrich your holiday experience…and it provides the locals with new stories.

When travelling, keep an open mind

So they do things differently in this country (sometimes their way of doing resembles nothing you have ever come across in your life before). That’s OK. You are also here to learn from new experiences, and maybe even find a better way of doing something. If their way of doing seems completely idiotic to you, ask them why they are doing it this way. Ask nicely and then listen carefully. Put yourself in their shoes for a moment. Maybe from their perspective, their way of doing is perfectly natural, obvious and logical. You do not have to agree, just see if you can learn something. Leave your comfort zone and keep an open mind. Try new things, new ways of doing. Try new food. New wine. Chances are you will find new insight and understanding. New possibilities and opportunities. New friendships.

Be prepared for all eventualities

In the very first instance, look after yourself physically. Be careful of the sun, especially here in the south of France, when midsummer over midday you can get sunstroke from spending an hour or two outside. Wear sunglasses, wear a hat, drench yourself in suntan lotion. Make sure that the water from the tap is safe and if not, remember to keep your mouth closed when you are showering. Not all spring water is safe to drink either – I get our spring water tested once a year to make sure it is. DO bring all your regular medication with you and bring enough to last the whole holiday. Yes, there are two pharmacies in the village 3 km from here, but it may be difficult to get hold of the French alternative of what you are taking any time soon. Bring emergency meds: anti-heartburn, anti-diarrhea, anti-pain, anti-allergy stuff, that sort of thing. Last but not least, make sure you have appropriate travel insurance. If you are from the UK, an EHIC card is absolutely essential.

When you are on holiday, wake up early

You usually sleep in as late as possible on holiday to catch up on your well-deserved sleep. I perfectly understand and that is why if you are on one of my retreats, you do not have to be coffeed-up and corpus mentis before 10:00. If you could, though, maybe just one day during your stay, rise with sunrise you may discover a whole new world up to now unexplored. Grab your camera before you venture out, now is the best light for memory-firing pictures. Stand for a while by the horses, quietly munching on their hay, go for a brisk walk through the vineyards or maybe you would like to join the guests who are doing slow stretching exercises on the lawn…

When you are on holiday, help

Look at what is happening around you. Maybe there is something you can do to help? I know you paid for this holiday and that you fully intend to get full value for your money. Of course, that is important. Just entertain the thought for a while. Even when on holiday, when you give, you receive so much more. I never expect my guests to do anything, they are here to relax and enjoy their holiday. But the ones who have stolen my heart and became life-long friends were the ones who have offered to help clear the table, insisted on doing the washing up, got up early to help feed the horses, bought an extra bottle of wine for dinner when they go wine tasting…I have learnt this precious lesson from my guests and I now help whenever I can while I am on holiday. I have made many new friends this way and find it a very rewarding experience.

The Journey Continues Long After You Returned Home

The most valuable souvenirs from any journey aren’t the trinkets that gather dust on your shelves, but the moments that changed you—the sunrise that took your breath away, the unexpected kindness of a stranger, the challenge that revealed your own resilience.

These travel tips aren’t just about making your journey smoother (though they will), but about creating space for those transformative moments to happen. On the Camino de Santiago, as in life, the path itself teaches us as much as the destination. The blisters heal, the sunburn fades, but the stories and insights you gather along the way become part of who you are.

P.S. Ready to turn your next trip into a soul-stirring adventure?

If you’re craving more than just a change of scenery—if you’re longing for clarity, inspiration, and a deeper connection with yourself and with nature—join us on a Camino de Santiago walking retreat in the southwest of France – designed for thoughtful travellers ready to reflect, reset, and rediscover what really matters. Expect beautiful scenery, heartfelt conversations, personal breakthroughs, and plenty of space for introspection (and belly laughs).

Twice a month, March to December.
Small groups, big transformations.

Find out more.

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5 Key Takeaways

1. The Camino can be walked year-round, with each season offering unique experiences. There’s no single “best” time to walk—it depends on your personal preferences, though spring (May-June) and fall (September-October) generally offer the most balanced conditions.
2. Summer (June-August) is the busiest season, with nearly half of all pilgrims arriving during these months. This creates a vibrant social atmosphere but also means crowded accommodations and restaurants, potentially requiring advance bookings.
3. Weather considerations significantly impact the experience. Summer can be hot, winter cold and sometimes wet, while spring and fall offer milder temperatures. Your tolerance for different weather conditions should guide your timing decision.
4. Guided retreat options provide solutions to common Camino challenges by offering consistent accommodations, transportation support, and the ability to walk with just a day pack—particularly valuable during peak seasons or challenging weather conditions.
5. Personal factors should guide your timing choice, including your preference for solitude versus community, heat tolerance, budget considerations (shoulder seasons are often more affordable), and specific interests like spring wildflowers or fall harvests.

The ancient pilgrimage route of the Camino de Santiago has captured the hearts and ‘soles’ of travellers for centuries. This spiritual journey across Spain (and parts of France and Portugal) offers not just a physical challenge, but often a transformative experience that stays with pilgrims long after their boots have been hung up. But when is the ideal time to embark on this adventure? Let’s explore the seasons of the Camino and find the perfect time for your journey.

The Year-Round Appeal of the Camino

One of the most wonderful aspects of the Camino de Santiago is that it isn’t limited to a specific season. Whether you’re dreaming of sun-dappled paths in summer or crisp, quiet trails in winter, the Camino welcomes pilgrims throughout the year.

If you’re considering one of my Camino de Santiago walking retreats in southwest France, you truly can walk ANY time of the year. Guests have trekked these paths in the depths of December and January, the heat of July and August, the bloom of March and April, and the golden months of September and October. Regardless of when they went, these pilgrims consistently described their experience as unforgettable and life-changing.

Summer on the Camino: The Bustling Season

Summer represents peak season on the Camino, with statistics from the Pilgrim’s Office in Santiago de Compostela revealing some eye-opening numbers. In 2019 (before pandemic disruptions), a whopping 347,578 pilgrims completed their journey to Santiago. Nearly half of these travellers—47% to be exact—arrived during the summer months of June (14%), July (15%), and August (18%).

This popularity creates a vibrant, social atmosphere on the trail. You’ll never feel alone and will have ample opportunity to connect with fellow pilgrims from around the world. Many lasting friendships have formed between people who first met while sharing a meal or helping each other with blisters along the way.

The Summer Squeeze: Accommodations and Dining

The summer crowds do come with challenges, however. The most pressing concern is finding a place to sleep. If you arrive at your destination late in the afternoon without a reservation, you might face a difficult choice: continue walking to the next town (when your feet are already screaming for rest) or pay premium prices for whatever beds remain available.

Similarly, restaurants and cafés along the route often burst at the seams during peak months. You might find yourself waiting for a table, only to hear the dreaded “Désolé, the kitchen is closed” as the clock strikes 2:00 pm.

Maria’s Summer Camino: An Illustrative Tale

Maria had always dreamed of walking the Camino. After months of training and preparation, she set off in early August, excited to experience the legendary pilgrimage during what she thought would be perfect weather.

Her first few days were magical—the paths were alive with fellow pilgrims, conversations flowed easily in multiple languages, and the summer sun shone brilliantly on the landscape. Maria loved the festive atmosphere in the towns she passed through, many celebrating their summer festivals with music, dance, and local delicacies.

By day five, however, she began to understand the challenges of summer pilgrimages. After a particularly difficult section that took longer than expected, Maria arrived at a popular stopping point at 4:30 pm, only to find every albergue (pilgrim hostel) displaying the dreaded “completo” (full) sign.

Exhausted and with darkening skies threatening rain, she began to panic. A kind local pointed her toward a bench in the town square where she could rest while calling ahead to towns further along the route. Three calls and an unexpected taxi ride later, Maria finally found accommodation—15 kilometers beyond her planned stopping point and at twice her budgeted cost.

The next day, determined to avoid a repeat situation, Maria began walking at 5:00 am with her headlamp cutting through the darkness. She wasn’t alone—dozens of other pilgrims had adopted the same strategy, creating an unexpected but magical experience of walking beneath the stars and witnessing the sunrise together.

By mid-morning, Maria had learned another summer pilgrim lesson. Stopping at a charming café around 1:30 pm, she was informed there would be at least an hour wait for a table. With her stomach growling and feet aching, she wished she had packed lunch as more experienced pilgrims had done.

That evening, Maria met Elena, a Camino veteran who was walking her fifth route. Over shared wine and tapas, Elena shared her wisdom: “The Camino in summer is beautiful, but crowded. Next time, come in May or late September—you’ll still have good weather, but you’ll also have space to breathe and truly connect with the path.”

Maria finished her Camino and treasured the experience, but when she returned three years later to walk a different route, she chose October—and found herself agreeing with Elena’s advice completely.

The Sweet Spots: Spring and Fall

Weather-wise, the ideal times to walk the Camino are during late spring (May and June) and early autumn (September and October). During these shoulder seasons, you’ll enjoy:

• Mild, comfortable temperatures ideal for walking
• Less crowded paths and accommodations
• Flowering landscapes in spring or harvest-rich scenery in fall
• More availability in restaurants and cafés
• Often better rates for accommodations

These months offer the perfect balance: good weather without extreme heat, enough fellow pilgrims to create community without overwhelming facilities, and nature at some of its most beautiful moments.

Winter Walking: A Different Kind of Magic

Can you walk the Camino during the winter holidays? Absolutely—especially if you’re looking at sections like Eauze to Manciet on the French Camino. Special short-break Camino retreats operate annually during this season, often attracting solo travellers seeking to escape holiday commercialism and do something meaningful instead.

Winter walking offers unique charms:

• Peaceful, nearly empty paths
• A more contemplative experience
• Cozy evenings by the fire after a day’s journey
• Clear, crisp air (when it’s not raining)
• A genuine sense of accomplishment

The trade-off, of course, is weather. Winter pilgrims must be prepared for cold, sometimes very cold, conditions. Rain and occasional snow are possibilities, particularly in mountainous sections. Fewer establishments remain open, requiring more careful planning.

The Benefits of Esprit Meraki Retreats

For those concerned about logistical challenges, my 5 or 7-day retreats offer solutions to many common Camino concerns, regardless of season:

• You sleep in the same comfortable bed each night
• No need to carry heavy backpacks—just daily essentials
• Transportation provided to and from each day’s section
• Hot showers and comfortable rest await after each day’s walk
• Opportunity for massage and proper recovery
• Expert guidance on how far to walk based on weather conditions

These arrangements are particularly valuable during peak summer months (avoiding accommodation scrambles) and winter (when comfort becomes essential after cold-weather walking).

Choosing Your Perfect Camino Season

When deciding on your ideal Camino season, consider:

1. Your heat tolerance: If you wilt in hot weather, avoid July and August
2. Your social preferences: Want maximum interaction? Summer is best. Seeking solitude? Consider winter
3. Your budget: Shoulder seasons typically offer better value
4. Your time constraints: School holidays might dictate summer travel for families
5. Your accommodation style: If you prefer certainty and comfort, consider guided options or book well ahead
6. Special interests: Spring offers wildflowers, fall provides harvest festivals, winter features Christmas markets

Preparation Tips for Any Season

Regardless of when you walk:

• Break in your shoes thoroughly before departing
• Train for the distances you’ll cover daily
• Consider the “pack sandwich” strategy: prepare lunch during breakfast to enjoy whenever and wherever you choose
• Research typical weather for your chosen time and pack accordingly
• Book accommodations ahead during busy periods
• Carry a water bottle and stay hydrated, especially in summer

Frequently Asked Questions About the Camino de Santiago

1. How long does it take to walk the Camino de Santiago?

This depends entirely on which route you choose and how much of it you plan to walk! The most popular route, the Camino Francés (French Way), stretches about 800 kilometers (500 miles) from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago. Walking the entire route typically takes 30-35 days, averaging 20-25 kilometers daily.

However, many pilgrims walk shorter sections or choose other routes like the Portuguese Way or the Northern Way. Some complete their Camino in stages over several years. The minimum distance required to receive a Compostela (certificate of completion) is 100 kilometers on foot or 200 kilometers by bicycle.

2. Do I need to be religious to walk the Camino?

Absolutely not! While the Camino originated as a Catholic pilgrimage to the shrine of the apostle Saint James, today it welcomes people of all faiths and those with no religious affiliation at all. According to statistics from the Pilgrim’s Office, pilgrims walk for religious, spiritual, cultural, sport, and many other personal reasons.

The beauty of the Camino is that it meets you where you are. Whether you’re seeking religious deepening, spiritual growth, physical challenge, cultural immersion, or simply time to reflect on life transitions, the Camino provides a supportive environment for your personal journey.

3. How physically fit do I need to be to walk the Camino?

People of all fitness levels and ages complete the Camino each year! That said, preparing physically will make your experience more enjoyable. The most important preparation is breaking in your footwear and training with some longer walks (ideally with your backpack) before departure.

The Camino’s terrain varies by route and section, but most paths involve a mix of gentle hills, some steeper climbs, and varying surfaces from pavement to dirt paths. Most people find that their fitness improves significantly during the first week of walking.

If you have health concerns, consider starting with a shorter route or section, walking fewer kilometers daily, or choosing a guided option where transportation support is available if needed.

4. What should I pack for the Camino?

The experienced pilgrim’s mantra is “pack light, then remove half!” Your backpack ideally shouldn’t exceed 10% of your body weight. Essentials include:

• 2-3 sets of quick-dry clothing (you’ll wash clothes regularly)
• Quality, broken-in walking shoes or boots
• Lightweight rain gear (regardless of season)
• Basic first aid supplies, especially blister prevention and treatment
• Refillable water bottle
• Pilgrim credential (passport) for collecting stamps
• Small toiletries
• Sleep sheet if staying in albergues
• Phone and charger
• Sunscreen and hat in summer; warm layers in winter

Many pilgrims send unnecessary items home after the first few days, so don’t stress about forgetting something—most supplies can be purchased along the way.

5. Is it safe to walk the Camino as a solo traveller?

The Camino is generally considered very safe, and thousands of solo travellers (including many women) walk it each year without incident. The path is well-marked, passes through populated areas regularly, and has a strong community of fellow pilgrims and locals who look out for one another.

During peak seasons, you’re rarely truly alone on the path. In winter or on less-travelled routes, you might have more solitary stretches but will still encounter others at accommodations.

Basic safety precautions apply as they would anywhere: be aware of your surroundings, trust your instincts, secure your valuables, and let someone know your general itinerary. Many solo travelers report that the Camino helped them discover new confidence and self-reliance while providing plenty of opportunities for community when desired.

The Camino’s Timeless Gift

Whether you walk under summer sun, autumn leaves, winter skies, or spring blossoms, the Camino offers its gifts to all who journey its ancient paths. Every season brings its challenges and its unique beauty.

The greatest gift of the Camino isn’t perfect weather or ideal conditions—it’s the journey itself. The path has a way of giving each pilgrim exactly what they need, often in unexpected ways. Summer crowds might lead to lifelong friendships, winter challenges might build inner strength, spring flowers might heal a grieving heart, and autumn harvests might inspire new beginnings.

Perhaps the true answer to “When is the best time to walk the Camino?” is simply this: The best time is when you feel called to walk. The Camino will be waiting, ready to unfold its mysteries in whatever season you arrive.

Whether you join the summer throngs sharing stories over communal dinners, walk quiet autumn paths through vineyards heavy with grapes, brave winter winds for moments of perfect solitude, or wander spring trails lined with wildflowers, your Camino will be uniquely yours—a journey that transcends the calendar and touches something timeless within.

Buen Camino, whenever you choose to begin.