Let's go for a Walk

“I think I’ll go for a walk, because it’s a nice day for it.  Tune out the talk, take a breath and start again.  And where I’ll go I don’t know but the path will show”- Lissie

Last month I sang these words over and over as I walked from the French border to the coast of Spain. For over 30 days, my daily routine required little more than faithfully following yellow arrows, sign posts, tiled shells, and sometimes even arrangements of pebbles. Each sign pointing toward Santiago de Compostela.

The trail is called the Camino Frances and is part of a greater web that pulls from every corner of Europe—one of the legs in France even runs past my street in Bordeaux—and leads to Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain.

The Camino is a pilgrimage that first began in the 11^th century when the remains of St. James were discovered and moved to the cathedral in Santiago.  Early Christians believed that healing and miracles could come from contact with the remains of important biblical figures, and therefore they were willing to risk their lives to traverse difficult terrain for a chance at healing and redemption.  

Today in a world where we see so much suffering, conflict and confusion, many of us can relate to the need for a miracle.

While many modern day pilgrims no longer believe in the actual healing that comes from contact with Saint James, there is an undeniable and mystic power that lingers over the trail.  It's a route that countless people pray over every single day, and you feel that force of prayer when you walk.  The simplicity of life, stripped down to a basic and clear purpose allows the mind to breathe and the soul to refresh.

Although the trail remains a Catholic pilgrimage, full of tradition and largely supported by local parishes, these days most of the pilgrims walking would identify their purpose as non-religious.

Many people come out to the Camino when they're at a crossroads.  For some reason or another, they no longer know what direction to take their life and they come looking for answers.  Others come to pray or give thanks, and still others come quite simply to walk and meet interesting people.

As for me, I was not entirely sure why I had decided to walk the trail.  It had come slowly as an idea, first born when a friend walked two years ago and then growing every time I saw a marker in Bordeaux.  Some part inside of me just craved silence and beauty after a bit of a crazy year.  And so, I set off from St. Jean Pied de Port intending to walk the 760 km to Santiago.  Praying that my feet would hold up.

A veteran pilgrim once reminded that this is exactly what makes a pilgrim, and it is enough.  As pilgrims, all we need is the initial drive, the kick to start and then the purpose of walking to knit us all together.. 

He continued to explain that out on the trail, we all look the same.  The same shirts, the same pants, the same shoes, the same pack.  The colors may be different.  I might have a hat, and you might not, but in the end we’re all the same just with different motivations and stories.

One of the distinct differences between everyday life and days on the Camino is that you often know another pilgrim's story before you know their name.  Sometimes the first question you ask someone revolves around the status of their feet.  Quite quickly, you learn how many blisters have formed under their heels, where their muscles are aching, and how their heart and mind are holding up.



Because the formalities of everyday life don't always exist on the trail, the friendships built there are strong and sweet, some serious and others silly, but all valuable.  With some people I shared a few kilometers, with others I watched the sunset and sang by the river, there were pilgrims who I always seemed to meet in cafes so we'd share a bite to eat, and others who I'd stick with for days, caring for each other like family.  There were people who I met once, didn't see for weeks, and then suddently they'd be standing at an intersection or the crossing of a bridge.

The meetings and reunions really felt divine, and they added anticipation and excitement to the daily routine. 

Each day began the same. Waking up, lacing our boots and readjusting our packs we'd set out to burn some kilometers between our resting place and Santiago.  As a pilgrim each day is brand new, full of fresh ground and unknown revelations.  The heartbeat of the days are the steps of your feet and every single element of the day revolves around pressing on, moving forward.  It's a beautiful thing to walk in one direction and never turn back.  

Most often, we’d walk until early afternoon—stopping every so often for a café con leche and a bit of tortilla espanola—find a bed, take a shower, wash and hang our clothes and wait.  We’d read, write, and discuss until it was a reasonable hour to eat.  And then we’d curl up in bed before the sun had even begun to set and rest until just before dawn when the first body started stirring in the albergue.  Thus the next day would begin.

This life was so very basic.  There was no need for plans and no reason to think further than carrying enough food and water for the next town.  It was truly a gift that allowed me to be present exactly where I was.

There were days when I couldn't have told you the date or time, but never in my life have I been so conscious of the countless shades of blue and green in a spring Barley field or the strength of a fragile and vibrant poppy. Never before have I been so in touch with my own body and spirit to know when I needed to take a break, when my shoes and socks needed to come off to let my toes and heels wriggle free in the sun. 

The beauty of the Earth was enough to consume all of my attention, the terrain that we covered was immense and ever-changing, allowing for constant thanksgiving.  We live in an amazing world.  After the high and foggy Pyrennees, the trail moves through the vineyards of the Rioja, across the flat unchanging Meseta, back into the mountains and then down into Eucalyptus forests of Galicia. 

I was reminded with childlike wonder that everything I needed was right there before me and if I was only still enough, quiet enough, I’d hear the voice and love of God in the world around me.  He whispers his goodness through the flowers, the fields, and the streams.

I'm just happy to have eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth, and feet to see the beauty of this world we live in.  Let's stay wild and free, grateful for the goodness in the people and places around us.