I woke up from my night in Hornillos already anticipating getting the to Anton Monastery. I didn’t know what to expect, but the few people who had stayed there told me it was one of the highlights of their Camino.

Any other time I would have considered it sort of campy. That night it was just perfect. So much delight. So much freedom. So much life.

Neither the strategizing of the prior days nor the almost manic “toss everything to the wind” satisfied my yearning to find an answer that satisfied my deeper yearning for home.

If I was trying to develop a strategy to hold onto my house in Portland with my mental musings yesterday, today I went the complete opposite direction.

I don’t’ know what it was about the experience of Granon, but all day was consumed with the thought, “I just want to go home.”

I didn’t know what would come next, but I did know that it had to have “soul” to it one way or another, whatever that meant.

I wouldn’t call what happened on this day a definite threshold, but it had all the signs of a significant shift in the lens through which I look at the world.

A handful of pilgrims asked as I walked by, “Are we going to get to hear more. That was beautiful.”

Nice way to end the day.

There were so many simple delights on the trail this day. We were in wine country and the grapes were ripe.

At day’s end I had this deeply grateful feeling. “Now I am on a pilgrimage,” I thought.

Then suddenly relief from the heat. A piercing, drenching downpour erupted from the clouds.

A few blocks later I arrived at a major 5-way intersection. No arrows. Now I knew. It was time to turn around.

It was a rich day. The highlight was meeting and walking with Javier from Argentina. How does one explain Javier?

I didn’t know what answers I would find, but I did know that I was trusting that “the Camino would provide.”

I was curious how it would be given the controversy over bathrooms in America and transgender individuals. Here gender didn’t matter. Just respect for privacy.

I knew pilgrims would be starting on the trail before daylight. The Camino Frances presents a particularly difficult challenge.

Immediately as I emerged from my albergue, I saw a lanky man with a headlamp and a backpack just below me on the road. Following him made sense.

“What is your intention for walking the Camino?” That is the question I knew I was going to be asked when arrived in Saint Jean de Pied Port to get officially registered for the pilgrimage.

I had nearly eight hours on the train which led to a rich time of reflection. One question surfaced almost immediately. It was “Where can I best serve?”

I knew I didn’t want to do this alone anymore. I would be starting out alone, but I wondered…