Hi, I’m Anique—and this is WILD Walks:
A series of guided walking meditations for leaders who want to step away from the screen and into a deeper sense of presence, purpose, and clarity.
Whether you're walking through a forest trail or just pacing a city sidewalk, this is your space to reconnect—with your breath, your body, and your leadership from within.
Before we begin, take a moment to get settled.
If you're not already walking, now’s a good time to press play and start moving, put on a coat or grab a scarf if it's cool where you are, slip on comfortable shoes, or bring along water, headphones, or anything else you need for 10–15 minutes outside.
There’s no perfect place or pace.
You can walk slowly, loop your block, or head into nature if it’s nearby.
Wherever you are, however you're arriving—this space is for you.
Let’s begin with a few deep breaths.
As you breathe in, invite the words: “I am here.”
And as you breathe out, invite the words: “That’s enough.”
Again: Breathing in — I am here.
Breathing out — That’s enough.
Good. Let’s begin.
Today’s walk is for the moments when you feel off—not overwhelmed, but disconnected.
When feedback doesn’t move you. When wins don’t excite you.
When it all just… flattens.
This is emotional numbness.
Not a failure, but a signal—that your system might be protecting itself from overextension.
That your capacity may be exceeded.
You may feel like you're going through the motions.
But beneath the surface, something intelligent is happening.
Let’s explore that together.
As we begin walking, set the intention to be gentle with yourself.
You don’t need to “fix” anything on this walk.
This is a space to listen. To soften. To simply notice.
You might say quietly to yourself:
“I allow myself to feel less, and still be whole.”
Or: “I give myself permission to walk through this season, without rushing to bloom.”
Let your breath guide you.
Let your feet move at your own rhythm.
As you walk, become aware of your body.
What sensations do you notice?
Are your shoulders tight? Jaw clenched? Are you holding your breath?
Can you soften—just a little?
Now expand your awareness to the space around you.
What season is the world in today?
What colors, textures, sounds are present?
You are walking in the world, and the world is walking with you.
Imagine a tree in the heart of winter.
Its branches are bare. Its leaves long gone.
From the outside, it looks still. Unchanged. Maybe even lifeless.
But beneath the surface?
Its roots are alive.
Its system is conserving energy.
It has entered a season of dormancy—a protective pause so that it can survive and thrive again when the time is right.
The tree is not failing to grow. It’s just growing differently.
Your numbness may not be the absence of emotion.
It may be emotional wisdom—a signal that you need stillness.
That you’ve reached the edge of what your nervous system can hold.
Just like the tree, you don’t have to bloom all year.
As you walk, consider:
Where in your leadership have you been expected to show up, without pause?
Where have you been giving or holding space without having any held for you?
What might your own season of dormancy be asking for?
Let these questions land in your breath.
You don’t need answers—just awareness.
Let your pace slow slightly.
Let the stillness of your internal winter speak.
As you move, imagine that you’re walking through a quiet winter landscape.
The air is cool. The light is soft. The ground is still.
There is no rush here. Only rest. Only roots.
You might say to yourself:
“Even in this stillness, I am becoming.”
“I trust my seasons.”
“Dormancy is not deadness—it’s deep wisdom.”
Let your steps echo that truth.
Let this walk be slow, deliberate, and real.
As your walk begins to wind down, return to your breath.
Return to your original intention.
You don’t need to emerge from this walk “feeling better.”
You only need to feel more present—and more compassionate toward yourself.
Reaffirm now:
“I am not broken—I am wintering.”
“Stillness is part of growth.”
As you close your walk, ask yourself gently:
What part of me feels ready to be acknowledged today, even in the quiet?
What would it look like to honor this season, instead of resisting it?
Let your next few steps be a slow return.
There is no urgency. No rush to thaw.
Spring will come.
And so will you.
Thank you for walking with me today.
This is what it means to lead WILD—
To honor the seasons of your leadership, even the quiet ones.
To listen. To soften. To lead from within.
If this experience supported you, I invite you to return to it anytime.
And to share it with another leader who might need this kind of gentle reconnection.
Until next time—stay present, lead with heart, and… stay wild.
