Meeting Myself in the Silence: A Student's Reflection on Pilgrimage: San Francisco

From October 10-14, a group of University of Richmond students embarked on Pilgrimage: San Francisco, a fall break journey exploring spirituality through meditation, intentional community, and the natural beauty of both the Point Reyes Peninsula and San Francisco. During the pilgrimage, the team met with a certified arborist, observed 24 hours of silence, and enjoyed a sunset cruise of the Bay area. In this article, Farah Šertović '27, reflects on her experience.

I arrived on this pilgrimage carrying the usual things. The loudness of everyday life, the unfinished thoughts I keep meaning to deal with, the quiet exhaustion I pretend I don't feel. 

I didn't expect silence to meet me so directly. I didn't expect it to feel like a presence. 

At St. Columba's Retreat Center on the Point Reyes Peninsula, the world softened. The hush in that space wasn't empty; it had weight, almost a temperature. It held me without touching me. 

In the quiet, I realized how much of myself gets drowned out in routine. My mind didn't suddenly "find clarity," but it did begin to settle, like dust after a long movement. It reminded me that I still exist beneath the noise—that there is a version of me that listens. 

What surprised me most was the comfort of being surrounded by others without any expectation to talk, explain, or offer anything. Just existing near people, without owing them a performance, felt like its own form of grace.  

The Radish Community in San Francisco deepened that for me. Watching the residents navigate their intentional community—sharing meals, making collective decisions, supporting each other through daily life—showed me that spirituality doesn't always look like what I expected. They showed me that spirituality can live in shared kitchens, in messy tables, in the ordinary work of choosing to be present with each other. It doesn't need ritual or doctrine; it just needs humans choosing to show up. That felt revolutionary to me. 

And on the mountains of the Point Reyes Peninsula, the trees gave me something I didn't know I needed. They weren't trying to teach me anything. But in their stillness, their bending, their long patience with the world, I found myself wondering about my own direction, my own way of growing. Nature doesn't dramatize its changes; it just shifts when it needs to. Maybe I do too. 

The pilgrimage didn't transform me—I don't think that's what it was supposed to do. But it nudged me. It nudged me toward questions I've been avoiding, toward parts of myself I haven't checked in with in a while. It reminded me that the spiritual isn't always loud or sudden. Sometimes it's a subtle stirring, a gentle invitation from the quiet to pay attention, to rethink, to breathe. To notice what's been there all along, waiting. 

And maybe that's enough. For now. 

To anyone reading this, if you're curious about finding your own version of this experience, I'd encourage you to take the leap. Sometimes the best discoveries happen when we give ourselves permission to step away from the familiar and see what meets us there. 

Learn more about our Pilgrimage program here.