Didn’t get it right the first time… gotta go back for a do over…
Actually, the do over part is true. I got a huge emotional high from my first walk, and returned to real life with a couple of big questions pressing my mind. Mostly, I realized I didn’t know what was truly important to me, my sense of purpose if you will, and whether I was on the road to achieving it. I didn’t have answers to either question, but somehow my professional life seemed less fulfilling for me on the backside of my first walk. Personal interests didn’t seem to answer the questions either.
The Camino I had felt fulfilling for its simplicity. Each day was much the same logistically – get up, eat, pack, walk, arrive, shower, rest, eat again, sleep and then do it all over. Yet every day was startlingly different internally, full of vivid emotional color, with a sense of the mystical, the historical, and life affirming encounters. God seemed to be doing all the details, and all I had to do was walk forward into them.
Living for a month with all my worldly possessions contained in a backpack was liberating, my mental load lessen somehow by the weight hanging from my shoulders. Sleeping in a dormitory for a month made me realize the privilege I have in my own home, something I otherwise can take for granted. Living each day in the moment, I also lost the weight of past regret, and worried not a thought about tomorrow. I’m prone to both in my real world. Walking afforded time and opportunity to stop and smell the roses – literally. September in Spain finds the aroma of the grape harvest everywhere, the ripening of a rich variety of fruit in orchards and private gardens, the smell of freshly cut hay alongside the trail. Beauty is abundantly displayed on the Camino.
I connected with people from all over the world for reasons unknown, but the common purpose of walking is felt by all who journey. I spent a couple of weeks on and off meeting/walking with a Japanese fellow. Kuri he called himself, was among many I spent time with, but was one of only two with whom I could not share a word of common language. Yet we communicated, through crude but understandable sign language, bizarre but worthy pantomime, contorted facial expression, and the warmth of our eyes. I treasure the memory of my Kuri experience, and another similar communication with a Spanish shepherd who was tending his flock.
The simplicity of it all was somehow an ideal world, perfect for an idealist and a dreamer. It represented the way things could be; genuine, spiritual, uncluttered, unstressed, unpretentious, deeply personal, with easy friendships made along the road filling me full of hope. These things are not missing from my real world life, but that they don’t seem to be there as often, or as gently realized.
What I couldn’t figure out after leaving Spain, was how to more fully integrate these items into my life. Returning to the footpath offers the chance to re-connect with those feelings and experiences, possibly try again to bring them forward into my world.
The lifestyle of the Camino captured my heart, and it’s been calling me to return for another hit. So head is following heart, out of the real world, and back to the 1,000 year old trail of the ancient.
Actually, the do over part is true. I got a huge emotional high from my first walk, and returned to real life with a couple of big questions pressing my mind. Mostly, I realized I didn’t know what was truly important to me, my sense of purpose if you will, and whether I was on the road to achieving it. I didn’t have answers to either question, but somehow my professional life seemed less fulfilling for me on the backside of my first walk. Personal interests didn’t seem to answer the questions either.
The Camino I had felt fulfilling for its simplicity. Each day was much the same logistically – get up, eat, pack, walk, arrive, shower, rest, eat again, sleep and then do it all over. Yet every day was startlingly different internally, full of vivid emotional color, with a sense of the mystical, the historical, and life affirming encounters. God seemed to be doing all the details, and all I had to do was walk forward into them.
Living for a month with all my worldly possessions contained in a backpack was liberating, my mental load lessen somehow by the weight hanging from my shoulders. Sleeping in a dormitory for a month made me realize the privilege I have in my own home, something I otherwise can take for granted. Living each day in the moment, I also lost the weight of past regret, and worried not a thought about tomorrow. I’m prone to both in my real world. Walking afforded time and opportunity to stop and smell the roses – literally. September in Spain finds the aroma of the grape harvest everywhere, the ripening of a rich variety of fruit in orchards and private gardens, the smell of freshly cut hay alongside the trail. Beauty is abundantly displayed on the Camino.
I connected with people from all over the world for reasons unknown, but the common purpose of walking is felt by all who journey. I spent a couple of weeks on and off meeting/walking with a Japanese fellow. Kuri he called himself, was among many I spent time with, but was one of only two with whom I could not share a word of common language. Yet we communicated, through crude but understandable sign language, bizarre but worthy pantomime, contorted facial expression, and the warmth of our eyes. I treasure the memory of my Kuri experience, and another similar communication with a Spanish shepherd who was tending his flock.
The simplicity of it all was somehow an ideal world, perfect for an idealist and a dreamer. It represented the way things could be; genuine, spiritual, uncluttered, unstressed, unpretentious, deeply personal, with easy friendships made along the road filling me full of hope. These things are not missing from my real world life, but that they don’t seem to be there as often, or as gently realized.
What I couldn’t figure out after leaving Spain, was how to more fully integrate these items into my life. Returning to the footpath offers the chance to re-connect with those feelings and experiences, possibly try again to bring them forward into my world.
The lifestyle of the Camino captured my heart, and it’s been calling me to return for another hit. So head is following heart, out of the real world, and back to the 1,000 year old trail of the ancient.
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