Intentional Attention: What Walking the Camino Reminded Me About Living Well

There is a beautiful anonymous quote often attributed to Anthony Bourdain, although there is no reliable evidence he said it:

"Travel is not a reward for working; it's education for living."

Whether the attribution is accurate or not, the sentiment resonates with me. It reminds us that travel isn't simply a reward for surviving the 9-to-5. It can be one of life's greatest teachers, inviting us to see the world and ourselves with a fresh perspective.

I've long believed that travel can be an education for living. After spending 10 days in Portugal and Spain recently, including six days walking the Camino Portugués, I realized that travel doesn't change us simply because we go somewhere new. It changes us because it invites us to experience life more attentively.

If you're unfamiliar with the Camino de Santiago, it's a network of ancient pilgrimage routes leading to Santiago de Compostela, Spain. People walk for many reasons—faith, healing, challenge, transition, or simply the desire to experience the world differently. While each journey is unique, everyone shares the same path for a while, and that's part of what makes it so meaningful.

To receive the Compostela certificate, pilgrims walk at least the final 100 kilometers (62 miles) of a route while carrying a credential, or pilgrim passport, collecting stamps from churches, cafés, hotels, and shops along the way. Those stamps verify the journey, but they also become part of the story each pilgrim carries home.

One of the most meaningful parts of the Camino is that everyone is walking the same path, but for deeply personal reasons. We met brothers helping their 76-year-old father finish the route after illness forced him to stop the previous year. We met a grandmother on her fifth Camino this year, walking with her grandchildren. We met a young man from Latvia who had walked a route the year before to "find himself," only to realize his journey wasn't finished, so he returned. We met a woman completing the Camino in honor of her husband because it had been his dream before he passed away.

Their reasons were different, but they shared something in common: they were all searching for something a little different. Meaning. Healing. Purpose. Connection. Clarity.

And perhaps most importantly, they were paying attention on their journey.

Practicing Attention

There is so much competing for our attention these days, and much of it wins without us even realizing it. Notifications. Headlines. Endless scrolling. Busy schedules. Constant distractions.

But something shifts when you step onto the Camino.

Each morning before we began walking, our group gathered and chose a single intention for the day. Over six days, we carried these words with us: Patience. Hope. Presence. Trust. Awe.

At first, they felt like simple themes for reflection. By the end of the week, I realized they had quietly shaped what I noticed. I wasn't simply reacting to whatever captured my attention. I was carrying an intention that gently influenced what I noticed throughout the day. My attention became intentional. The Camino isn't a race. There is no reward for finishing first. Instead, it's about putting one foot in front of the other, supporting one another, and allowing yourself to be fully present for the journey. That intention changed the way I experienced each day.

Patience helped me slow down. It's easy to fall into familiar habits and focus on reaching the destination rather than experiencing the journey. Patience reminded me that there was no prize for finishing first. The real gift was walking alongside others, lingering in conversation, and allowing the day to unfold at its own pace.

Hope encouraged me to ask questions. I wanted to know why people had come to the Camino. Every answer was different, yet each story carried a thread of hope for healing, hope after loss, hope for clarity, hope for a fresh start. In a world that often feels divided and chaotic, those conversations quietly restored my faith in humanity.

Presence slowed me down enough to notice what I might otherwise have walked past: cats lounging in windows, carefully tended home gardens, vineyards stretching across the hillsides, centuries-old churches, pilgrims greeting one another with a simple Buen Camino, and moments of quiet beauty that asked for nothing more than my attention.

Trust reminded me to trust myself. I traveled alone. Flight delays changed my itinerary. I joined a group where I knew only two people. There were countless moments when I didn't have all the details or all the answers. Yet each time I chose to trust rather than seek control, things unfolded in ways I couldn't have planned. It reminded me that some of life's most meaningful experiences begin with saying yes before we know exactly how the story will end.

Awe invited me to simply marvel at where I was. Walking through the countryside of Portugal and Spain, surrounded by history, nature, and people from around the world, I was reminded how extraordinary this opportunity really was. Awe has a way of quieting everything else. It pulls us out of our routines and reminds us that the world is far bigger, richer, and more beautiful than we sometimes remember.

A Different Way to Think About Well-Being

As a dietitian and behavior change strategist, I've spent decades helping people build healthier habits. Move more. Eat nourishing foods. Sleep enough. Manage stress.

Those things matter. They support our health and help us feel our best.

But somewhere along the way, I think many of us have come to believe that well-being is simply the result of checking enough healthy boxes.

Walking the Camino reminded me that there is another dimension to living well.

It's not just what we do. It's how we experience what we do.

We can eat lunch while answering emails. Or we can share a meal with someone and truly taste it.

We can walk for exercise. Or we can walk with curiosity.

We can rush through another Tuesday. Or we can notice the conversation, the flowers blooming on the corner, the kindness of a stranger, the feeling of sunshine on our face.

The activity may be the same. The experience is not. 

It reminded me that well-being isn't simply something we achieve by doing all the right things. It's also something we discover through the way we engage with our lives. The habits that support our health matter, but so do attention, perspective, and the experiences that shape us. Together, they help us discover what supports our own well-being and sustain it over time.

Bringing the Camino Home

The Camino reminded me that living well isn't reserved for extraordinary places. It's practiced in ordinary ones. It's practiced over morning coffee. During a conversation with a friend. While preparing dinner. Walking around the neighborhood. Sitting quietly before the day begins.

Travel simply gave me a place where paying attention came more naturally. My hope now is to bring that same way of experiencing life home.

Every day offers countless opportunities to experience life more fully. The question is whether we’re present enough to notice them. 

Tomorrow morning, before your day begins, consider asking yourself one simple question:

What kind of attention do I want to bring to today?

Then move through your day with that intention. Notice what you notice.

Not because your circumstances have changed. But because you have.

The world is constantly teaching us. We only learn from the parts we’re paying attention to. 

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