“What matters most on your journey is how deeply you see, how attentively you hear, how richly the encounters are felt in your heart and soul.”
— Phil Cousineau
This writing will automatically get posted about the time that Jane and I should be in the last third of our Camino de Santiago pilgrimage. We left on August 21st—our 42nd anniversary. On October 1 we will step foot into our home again.
By now we will have met some fascinating people from all over the world—some of them becoming friends. We will have set our feet, senses, and hearts in well-worn and well-known holy shrines. But some of our most sacred moments will likely have come in unexpected times and spaces.
Hopefully, we will have become accustomed to sleeping with strangers in open albergues (hostels) along the way. And enjoying the routine of simply “rising and walking” with our backpacks 15-18 miles each day for some 33 days and 500 miles.
This journey was Jane’s idea and while she is a great researcher and meticulous planner she intentionally left most of our lodgings to be spontaneous. This makes her nervous. We have villages we hope to stay in but if the albergues are all full we need to walk on. Because it is such an ancient camino, or “way,” we will be fine. After all, they’ve been dialing this “Way of St. James” via the Francis route since the 9th century.
By now we will have enjoyed delicious pilgrim meals sitting in the company of many folks from all over the world. Despite our language differences, the pleasure of dining together at an albergue at day’s end will have been as delightful as the food.
Our pilgrimage is less about the destination and more about the journey. To that end, I will have been carrying a beautiful handmade (including the paper) journal I purchased from an artist many years ago. Within it is a remarkable collection of notes and photos of family, friends and acquaintances. Before leaving I had offered to symbolically help bear the difficult burdens of many whom I know or who my friends know. To carry their hopes, dreams, prayers, and sorrows in my heart and on my back for this journey. To think and pray on them and with them along the way.
Even before we left, this part of our pilgrimage was already a sacred and moving experience. The many kind and generous wishes written. The tender concerns and prayers expressed on behalf of the person who wrote it or for people they know: A vibrant grown child muted for more than a year by a horrific accident; Two homeless people our friends have been helping; A friend who teaches and helps a wide range of refugees seeking prayers on their behalf; A mother’s son wrongly imprisoned for years and some of her other adopted children and grandchildren struggling with serious issues; The pains of cancer for some—and yet they fight and remain hopeful whatever the outcome; A stroke dramatically rewriting our friend’s marriage and dreams; Caring for mothers who can no longer care well for themselves; A friend who had such chronic pain in his leg due to a terrible car accident some years ago finally had it amputated; Chronic debilitating poor health; Broken hearts from recent divorces. There is more.
But in all of these hard stories, there are also heroic acts of hope. Resilience and persistence in the face of daunting conditions. Generous compassionate hearts helping so many in the “way.” A sacred awareness in their suffering and appreciation of the awe in their own holy lives. There is one friend who expressed gratitude for her best year ever. Another who is full of joy and appreciation for coming out of 3 years of a completely debilitating illness.
Before I ever stepped onto the plane for our camino, I realized so many are walking along a far more difficult and sacred pilgrimage than I ever will.
If the idea of pilgrimage interests you—either metaphorically or through travel to distant places—I highly recommend listening to this insightful and poetic book: The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred.
“For a journey without challenge, has no meaning; one without purpose, has no soul.”
― The Art of Pilgrimage
