The Power of Walking in Circles
To the untrained eye, walking in circles might seem aimless. But for many Patagonian women, circular walking rituals carry deep symbolic and healing meaning.
These paths — often traced repeatedly around specific natural landmarks — aren’t about reaching a destination, but about connecting with cycles: of nature, of memory, and of trauma.
In the southern reaches of Patagonia, where wind and time shape everything, these women are rediscovering ancestral practices by using movement as medicine.
Across Indigenous and mestiza communities, the repetition of steps becomes an act of resistance against erasure — of culture, of history, of feminine voices silenced across generations.
Each turn around a rock, tree, or patch of sacred earth reclaims space, both physical and emotional. It is through this spiraling movement that many heal wounds inherited from their mothers and grandmothers.
Ancestral Echoes Beneath Each Step
The concept of circular movement is not new. In fact, it echoes across Indigenous traditions worldwide — from the Native American medicine wheel to Mapuche “Nguillatun” ceremonies that involve circling fire.
In Patagonia, these echoes resonate in more personal ways: women who have experienced intergenerational trauma often speak of feeling a need to return — to places, to emotions, to questions left unanswered.
Many begin walking without knowing why they are drawn to certain spots. A boulder in the valley, a twisted tree, or a hill overlooking a lagoon becomes a center around which they move. In time, they realize these are not random points — they are anchors of memory.
Ana Painefilu, a cultural guide of Mapuche descent in Santa Cruz province, says:
“My grandmother used to walk around a certain tree when she was grieving. She would say, ‘you have to let the pain move, or it will root inside you.’ I didn’t understand until I started walking like her.”
Rituals Born from Repetition
Each woman develops her own pattern. Some walk at dawn, others in silence. Some chant or hum, some carry herbs or wear special fabrics.
The repetition — often 7, 9 or 13 rounds — isn’t accidental. These numbers hold sacred or personal meaning, linked to birth cycles, moon phases, or family ages.
As they walk, they might speak aloud the names of their ancestors, or focus on a single phrase — a sort of mantra. A recurring one is: “Yo soy la que vuelve” — I am the one who returns.
Over time, these private rituals form a collective pattern. Without formal coordination, women across the region are creating what could be described as a grassroots ceremonial network — invisible trails shaped not by signage, but by footsteps and intention.
Why Circles Heal What Linear Paths Cannot
Linear thinking often dominates Western therapeutic models: progress is a line from pain to healing, from past to future. But lived experience, especially for women dealing with trauma, rarely fits such a neat structure.
The circular trail says: it’s okay to return. In fact, you must. Each time around the loop, something softens. A memory reveals a new layer. A tear falls differently. There’s no pressure to arrive — only to move, and to allow time to spiral with you.
Psychologists in Patagonia who work with female survivors of violence are starting to integrate “ritual walking” into their therapeutic suggestions. One such practitioner, Dr. Julieta Navarro in Río Gallegos, shares:
“These circles break the myth of linear recovery. They allow for nonlinear grief, nonlinear growth. The land holds the memory, and the woman reclaims it step by step.”
Sacred Sites and Unofficial Sanctuaries
Several locations have become known informally as “círculos de mujeres” — places where women come specifically to perform these walks:
- Bosque del Silencio (Silent Forest), near Lago Puelo: Known for its moss-covered trees and quiet, this forest draws women who seek grief rituals.
- La Piedra de las Hijas (The Daughters’ Stone), in Chubut: A granite boulder on an open plain, circled by women honoring lost female relatives.
- La Laguna del Olvido (The Lagoon of Forgetting), in Tierra del Fuego: Women circle this waterbody to release memories they are ready to let go.
These aren’t official spiritual centers. In fact, their lack of infrastructure makes them more powerful. They’re wild, raw, and fully dependent on the respect of those who come to walk.
Intergenerational Participation: Grandmothers and Daughters Walking Together
In some communities, these rituals are becoming family traditions. Young girls walk hand-in-hand with elders, learning the rhythm of the path before they understand its meaning. Later, they will return alone.
This transmission of practice — outside of institutional religion or therapy — is a quiet but potent form of cultural preservation. It bridges not only generations, but gaps between words and emotions, between silence and song.
One walker, Florencia, shared in her journal:
“My daughter doesn’t ask why we walk around the cactus. She just does it with me. I think that’s the beginning of her understanding.”
When the Earth Remembers With You
The terrain responds. Repeated footsteps etch subtle paths. Stones shift slightly. Animals grow used to the rhythm. Some women report that flowers begin to grow in the exact walking circle after a year. Whether literal or symbolic, the message is clear: nature walks with them.
In Indigenous cosmologies, the Earth is not a passive backdrop. It listens, witnesses, and remembers. By moving in circles, these women are not only remembering — they are being remembered.
A Feminine Architecture of Healing
While many spiritual trails around the world are marked by verticality — peaks, towers, ascents — these circular paths propose something more horizontal, intimate, and inclusive. They create an architecture of presence rather than conquest.
This is particularly important in a world where women’s stories have so often been sidelined or erased. Through these circles, healing becomes not only individual, but collective. And slow — deliberately so.
Creating Your Own Circular Walking Ritual
You don’t have to be in Patagonia to adopt this practice. Here’s how you can create your own:
- Choose a natural anchor: A tree, a large rock, a bush — something grounded and meaningful to you.
- Decide on your circle: Walk the perimeter intuitively and mark it mentally.
- Select a number of rounds: 7, 9, or 13 are commonly used, but follow your instinct.
- Bring intention: Carry a photo, a word, or a question.
- Observe silence (optional): Or include sound — a chant, a breath, a memory spoken aloud.
- Close with gratitude: After the final round, place your hand on the anchor and thank the land.
This simple ritual can become a space of profound transformation — wherever you are.
Where the Trail Ends — or Begins Again
In a culture obsessed with forward motion, these Patagonian women remind us that healing is rarely linear. They invite us to walk in circles — not to be lost, but to remember. To reclaim the right to repeat. To return to ourselves over and over until the wound becomes a story, and the story becomes a thread in the circle of life.
The path is not the shortest distance between two points. The path is the movement that connects the woman to her memory, her land, and her healing.
Leonardo e Raquel Dias are a couple passionate about travel, exploring the world together and sharing their experiences. Leonardo is a photographer and food enthusiast, while Raquel is a writer fascinated by history and culture. Through their blog, they inspire other couples over 50 to embark on their own adventures.