Listening to Earth: A Reflection on John Francis and My Journey to Jamaica

There are moments in life when we are called to listen—not just to words, but to the silence beneath them. To listen not just with our ears, but with our whole being.

John Francis walked in silence for 17 years, refusing motorized transportation, choosing instead to move with the pace of the Earth. His journey began in 1971, after witnessing the devastating aftermath of an oil spill in San Francisco Bay—a disaster that opened his eyes to the consequences of human activity on the environment. Moved by a deep sense of responsibility, he decided to stop using motorized vehicles, committing to walking everywhere as an act of environmental protest. But as he shared his convictions with others, he found himself caught in endless arguments, defending his choices rather than truly engaging with the message he wanted to share.

Dr. John Francis walking with his banjo. (“Dr. John Francis, The Planetwalker.” The Momentum)

So, in 1973, he took a radical step—he stopped speaking. What began as a one-day experiment stretched into 17 years of silence, not as an escape, but as a profound commitment  to listening—to Earth, to the people around him, and to the wisdom that emerges when we quiet our own voices long enough to hear something deeper.

His silent journey led him across the United States. He walked from California to Oregon, then eastward through Montana, South Dakota, and beyond, all while carrying only a backpack and a sign that read: “Walking for the Environment.” Over the years, he studied, earned a PhD in Land Resources, and even became a United Nations Environmental Program Goodwill Ambassador—all without speaking a word.

His vow of silence was not just about rejecting noise but about embracing presence, about moving with intention, and about proving that actions speak louder than words. His journey challenges us to consider: what could we learn if we stopped talking and truly listened—to each other, to the world, and to Gaia herself?

I didn’t take a vow of silence, but I did have my own moment of reckoning, my own journey into stillness.

Hearing in the Quiet of the Mountains 

Years ago, I traveled to Swift River, Jamaica, deep in the mountains, across from the Blue Mountains, where some of the world’s finest coffee grows in the mist and the hush of towering trees. My family is from Jamaica, but this wasn’t a trip home in the traditional sense. It was a pilgrimage of sorts—a quest to figure life out, to rediscover myself outside of the noise of expectation, outside of the endless pull of modern life.

Nikki Woods, Jamaica (Mac Gray, 2014 Personal Collection)

There was no TV, no phone, no car—only the land, the people, and the slow, unhurried rhythm of the Earth. I had come to help open a computer school, but in truth, the land was teaching me far more than I could ever teach anyone. The hills stretched wide and green, the rivers moved with a quiet determination, and I found myself stripped of distractions, forced to be fully present in a way I hadn’t been in years.

It was there, in the quiet of those mountains, that I began to truly listen.

I listened to the pulse of the earth beneath my feet, to the whispers of the wind weaving through the trees, to the stories carried in the voices of those who had lived in harmony with this land for generations. I listened to my own breath, to my own thoughts, no longer drowned out by the hum of screens and schedules.

John Francis once said:

“One of the reasons I became a planetwalker was that I wanted to learn to listen. I realized that I had stopped listening. I had been listening intellectually, but I had not been listening to my heart.”

That lesson, I now understand, is the same one I learned in Jamaica—that to truly hear Earth, to truly hear ourselves, we must step outside the noise. We must be willing to walk, to wait, to witness.

But in a world of constant movement, how do we cultivate stillness? How do we make space for listening?

The striking stillness of the Blue Mountains, Jamaica. (Mac Gray, 2014 Personal Collection).

Here are a few ways to reconnect with Gaia and ourselves:

  1. Take a Silent Walk – Leave your phone behind, walk through a forest, park, or even a quiet street, and simply listen. Observe the sounds, the sensations, and your own thoughts without interruption.
  2. Practice Digital Detox Days – Set aside a day each week where you disconnect from social media and screens, allowing your mind to breathe.
  3. Engage in Slow, Intentional Living – Eat your meals without distractions, take deep breaths before reacting, and embrace the natural pace of life instead of rushing from one thing to the next.
  4. Learn from Elders and Indigenous Wisdom – Many communities have long understood the importance of living in rhythm with nature. Seek out their stories and learn from their practices.
  5. Commit to Walking More – Whether for errands or reflection, walking helps us slow down and realign with the Earth’s rhythms.

John Francis walked in silence so that he could listen. I went to the mountains and found the same lesson waiting for me there.

That time in Swift River was a turning point for me, a reminder that Earth has always been speaking, guiding, waiting for us to slow down enough to hear her.

I wonder now, how many of us are still rushing, still drowning in artificial noise, still refusing to hear what Gaia is trying to tell us?

Where have you found stillness? Where has Earth spoken to you? And more importantly, are you ready to listen?

Listening to the Swift River, Jamaica. (Mac Gray; 2014 Personal Collection)

Nikki Woods is a celebrated media expert, entrepreneur, and the founder of Out of the Woods Digital PR and Marketing Agency. With a distinguished career in broadcast journalism, including her role as Executive Producer of the nationally syndicated Tom Joyner Morning Show, Nikki has honed the art of impactful storytelling and media engagement over decades.

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  1. Bart Everson

    Thanks so much for sharing your story, Nikki, and also the amazing John Francis. I never knew of him! Here at Xavier another famous “Dr. Francis”, but I feel like we should know about John Francis as well. I am sharing this with my co-workers. For what it’s worth, I walked to work today…

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