Whispers from the Camino—Day 35

October 9 Arzua to O Pedrouzo. 19.1 km

Leaving Arzua before sunrise.

I could tell I was coming to end of this Camino pilgrimage. I was definitely more emotional and decisive all at the same time. I found myself in tears at numerous points along the trail—some of them triggered by the increasing number of memorials along the route and some caused by internal thoughts as I continued to move forward to Santiago.

I don’t think it was just the presence of the memorials that was triggering my emotions. I think it had a lot to do with the fact that these memorials were showing up at the very end of the Camino. I imagined what it might have been like for a pilgrim to be carrying a rock or a picture or a poem representing the loss of a loved one over the course of the full 790 kilometers (490 miles). I imagined what it would be like to finally get to this point after carrying someone in their heart for five plus weeks and to finally decide, “This is the mound, this is the altar where I will let them go and continue on my journey.”

One of many memorials along the way.

I imagined a mother giving one final kiss to the picture of her son or a husband holding the stone that carried his grief and memories of his dear departed wife. I imagined the estranged child who was making a walk for penance and reading the poem he wrote to ask forgiveness and setting it there among all the other confessional gifts. I tried to take in all the love and grief that was being carried on this Camino. Tears kept my cheeks wet for much of the walk.

But it wasn’t just the memorials. It was the fact that I knew this night would be my last night in an albergue. It had been a rich experience not knowing exactly where I would sleep at night, but trusitng that there would always be a bed. Every afternoon we competed for washing basins and clotheslines to dry our socks and underwear. Every night I was introduced to a new set of bunk mates, some chatty and others quiet and reflective. Every night I prayed that the snorers were a few bunks down and learned patience when they weren’t.

Walking at sunrise

I broke up the shared community albergue experience with a few nights in a private room. In fact, at one point I thought I would stay in private rooms the rest of the Camino only to discover a day or two into my decision that I was missing the connectional chaos of the albergue. I quickly returned to the practice of starting my day not knowing where I would sleep, but anticipating an open bed in an albergue.

But the tears were also initiated by reading accounts on Facebook of other pilgrims arriving in Santiago de Compestelo. It was clear that arriving at the cathedral after many weeks of walking, blisters, challenges and a few rainstorms was both emotional and transformational. I wasn’t sure what to expect. After the richness of the walking would Santiago be a letdown or would it be a glorious relief? I didn’t know, but I was moved by the thought that I was now coming to the end.

Just follow the path.

But the tears were even more than that. I am not sure how to even capture this, but I was very aware of the gift that I had been given to simply spend five weeks just walking. Seriously, in our production-oriented society and overly scheduled lives who ever gets or takes the opportunity to simply walk, walk, walk. Given my gait that means I took approximately 1.3 million steps over five weeks with each of those steps accompanied by feelings and thoughts, grief and hope. I felt overwhelmed by the gift to shift my life for a few weeks from the endless pressure of doing to simply being.

I was emotional this day. I was also equally decisive. The first thing that emerged was the realization that I was now crossing a very clear bridge from living a professionally-based middle class lifestyle to living a nomadic, mission-driven lifestyle. The funny thing is I had probably been living that for most of my life. If one looks at the number of transitions I have made in my life one can easily see that a deep sense of mission has always driven me.

The difference was this—I was going to quit beating myself up for not “figuring out how to settle down into a middle class lifestyle” and finally admit that my best self was living as a mission-driven nomad. I would love to settle down, but what I need more is to know that I am serving the world. Security would be nice, but service is what drives me. It felt good to finally acknowledge what had probably been true for most of my adult life.

And then, finally, this clear almost blinding-like phrase came to me that felt harsh and true all at the same time:  “You can either contribute to the shape of the future or be taken by the forces of future. In the end, the only difference is whether you feel like an actor or feel like a victim.”

Albergue Porta de Santiago—the nicest, cleanest most comfortable on the Camino yet!

It seemed to capture all of the work in my life. Every position I had ever held was working with people or organizations at a threshold moment in their lives—juveniles on probation, survivors navigating grief and loss, and congregations at a pivotal moment. In every position the question was always the same, “Are you going to let your circumstances dictate your life or are you going to let your values and your hopes and dreams dictate your life?” This was true when juveniles were facing court orders, loved ones were navigating loss and congregations were facing decades’ long decline.

It seemed harsh, but it was true to who I am. I will help you cross a metaphorical desert (as I did in my book Alone). I will walk with you on a 500-mile pilgrimage. I will guide you up to Everest Base Camp (as I did in 2017). I will lead you through a “Rome to Rumi” transformation (as I did in 2014). I will help you grieve what is no more on the way to what can be. What I won’t do is hold your hand if life has permanently frozen you in your tracks. What I won’t do is stay by your side if all you have energy for is blaming your circumstances for your life.

The perfect end to the day—pulpo (octopus tentacles).

It felt harsh. But I knew the story. In my early 20’s I had to make a decision—either allow my childhood trauma to dictate my life or take action to create the life I wanted. It was an either/or decision. It was life or death for me.

I have the skills, experience and dogged determination to lead people into unknown territory. What I don’t have is the patience for people or organizations who are stuck and who stay stuck.

This doesn’t mean that some people and organizations don’t need hand holding. They do.

I am just not it.

It felt harsh, but it was honest.