Walking Into the Dark: How My 5 A.M. Beach Walks Became a Daily Pilgrimage Back to Myself

Every morning at 5 a.m., long before the first hint of dawn touches the Oregon Coast, I step onto the sand and begin an eight‑mile walk in complete darkness. No flashlight. No headlamp. Just me, the roar of the Pacific, and a sky scattered with more stars than I could ever count.

People often ask why I do it—why I choose to walk alone in the dark, why I don’t bring a light, why I commit to it every single day. The truth is simple: this ritual has become one of the most healing, transformative practices of my life. It’s my daily walkabout, my moving meditation, my reminder that courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s the willingness to keep walking even when you can’t see the path.

Learning to Trust My Intuition

When you walk in the dark without a flashlight, you learn quickly that your eyes are not your primary guides. Your body becomes the compass. Your intuition becomes the map. The ocean’s voice becomes the boundary line you follow.

At first, it was uncomfortable. My mind wanted certainty, visibility, control. But the more I surrendered, the more I realized that my inner knowing was far more reliable than I had ever given it credit for. I learned to feel the subtle shifts in the sand beneath my feet. I learned to sense where the tide had put obstacles in my path. I learned to trust the quiet voice inside me that said, You’re safe. Keep going. Or something's wrong, it's time to turn back.

Those early‑morning miles have taught me more about intuition than any book or workshop ever could. Not only when to keep going, but when to stop and evaluate a situlation.

Courage Is Built One Step at a Time

Courage doesn’t arrive in a single moment of bravery. It’s built slowly, step by step, breath by breath, in the dark spaces where no one is watching. Every morning, when I choose to walk into the unknown, I’m choosing to strength over fear.

There’s something powerful about moving forward when you can’t see more than a few feet ahead. It mirrors life in the most honest way. We never truly know what’s coming next. We never have the full picture. But we walk anyway. We trust anyway. We keep showing up anyway.

Even when the clouds gather and the wind whips sand across my skin, I remain centered. Even when they skies open up and shower sheets of rain down my face, I'm still grateful. On the days when nature shows her power, I stand on the cliff edge, raise my hands to the sky and channel the power that surges through the storm.

Walking Meditation Under an Infinite Sky

These walks have become my meditation time. A time to send silent prayers up to into the sky. My time to wish on shooting stars. My time to commune with something larger than myself.

Under the vastness of the night sky, I feel small in the best possible way—like a single thread in a much larger tapestry. The stars stretch endlessly above me, the ocean roars beside me, and for those two hours, I am completely present. No past. No future. Just breath, heartbeat, and the rhythm of my feet on the sand.

It’s in this space that I feel most connected to the universe, to the land, and to the parts of myself that get quiet during the noise of the day.

A Daily Walkabout

In many cultures, a walkabout is a journey of self‑discovery—a time to step away from the familiar and listen deeply to the land, the body, and the spirit. That’s what these mornings have become for me.

A daily pilgrimage. A returning. A remembering.

Each walk strips away another layer of fear, doubt, or distraction. Each walk brings me closer to my own truth. Each walk reminds me that I am never truly alone—because nature is always speaking, always guiding, always holding me.

Letting My Heart Lead Through the Darkness

The most profound lesson these walks have taught me is this: when I let my heart lead, I am never lost.

The darkness is no longer something to fear. It’s a teacher. A companion. A mirror. It shows me where I cling and where I trust. It reveals the strength I forget I have. It reminds me that clarity doesn’t always come from seeing—it often comes from feeling.

And every morning, as the first light begins to rise and the world shifts from shadow to silver, I feel a quiet gratitude for the darkness that carried me.

Because in walking through it, I’ve learned how to walk through my life with more courage, more intuition, and more connection to the wild, wise woman within me.

If you ever feel called to create your own ritual of reconnection—whether on the beach, in the forest, or simply in the quiet moments of your day—I’d love to help you find your way.