Pilgrimage: Die Before You Die, and Have Fun Doing It!

Me and Jed on the Camino 5.25.14 small

On the Meseta — May 25, 2014

Why walk 500 miles to Santiago de Compostela? I mentioned my struggle with this question to a very thoughtful friend, who said, “It used to be that to get to Compostela you had to walk to Compostela.” That’s clearly no longer true. In our modern world, with instant communication, almost-instant travel, and diversity of religious beliefs, walking to Santiago de Compostela is a choice. Most of us no longer believe that making pilgrimage to a saint’s tomb will give us a free pass to heaven, even if we think we need such a pass. We don’t believe that the relics in cathedrals, even if they are really from the true cross or the corpse of some long-dead holy person, confer any special mojo — any special forgiveness of sins. (Related question: what are sins?)

Indeed, there were moments on Jed’s and my recent pilgrimage when walking to Santiago seemed the opposite of holy. It seemed possibly cruel and probably a sign of mental illness to walk through pain. I have been wondering why we do it. Why I did it. Yet people who make this choice seem to benefit from their walk. Why?

Here’s my current hypothesis: We go on pilgrimage to practice dying, and because pilgrimage is really fun.

1. Pilgrimage as practice in dying: Pilgrimage, like any discipline, is practice in letting go of ego and expectations. It’s an expansion of our comfort zones in order to commit to what we truly value. Daily prayer or meditation, intentional service of others, eating a vegan diet, writing three pages every morning, whatever — discipline is learning how to do the hard stuff. God knows it seems easier to stay in life’s comfortable shallow end, trying our damndest to keep pain and fear at bay. For most of us, life will bring painful stuff — illness and death and loss in all its forms. C.S. Lewis said, “Die before you die. There is no chance after.” Pilgrimage is an opportunity to “die before you die,” to practice staying present to pain and fear, to practice letting go of control and expectations. When we stay present and open to pain and fear, we become more resilient and confident in our abilities to choose love in the midst of pain.

Pilgrimage allows us to do hard things in a relatively safe context — supported by ancient history and tradition, following directions and instructions that are millennia old, and in the company of others doing the same work.

2. Being a pilgrim is just plain fun. Even when I felt tired and sore, the Camino’s freedom and focus, hospitality, intellectual stimulation, companionship, rich social life, ample outside exercise, and incredible beauty were simply and juicily fun. I never stopped saying and thinking, “Honey, we’re in Spain. We’re in SPAIN!” The gift of being in the pilgrimage bubble, outside of normal time with its demands and constraints, was priceless. I felt at home in my body again — at one with my “god pod.”*

So, these are my answers for why modern pilgrims leave their homes to walk miles and miles: To practice doing hard things, and to have vast amounts of fun.

There’s a lot more to unpack, which I will be doing over the coming weeks on the blog now that my thinking is more coherent.

Thanks for walking with me. ¡Buen Camino!

Photo credit: Joe speetjens, a fellow peregrino from mississippi.

*”God Pod” coined by fellow martha beck coach susan hyatt

 

Five hundred miles later…

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Jed and I arrived in Santiago de Compostela yesterday morning around 9 am. I feel immensely full of gratitude and awe. We did it!

I am confident that the end of the Camino is the only the beginning of something amazing. People who have walked this Way before us say it takes about six months to feel like they’ve processed their experience, so — more to follow! Thank you all so much for your thoughts and prayers.

Love,
Barb

“The Sweet Confinement Of Your Aloneness”

Today is Day 29 of our Camino. The Way has felt hard. And I feel so blessed to be here. This poem of David Whyte’s has bubbled its way to awareness these last two days as I have walked through western Spain — over mountains, through tiny villages and cities, and among vineyards and cherry orchards.

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

— David Whyte
from The House of Belonging
©1996 Many Rivers Press

The Camino has provided space and opportunity to realize that I have cluttered my life with things and people and activities that do not bring me alive. The Way is so huge that the smallness I have allowed is starkly apparent. I am seeing into my heart — seeing glimmers of the things and people and activities that are life-giving for me. I am learning in my innermost being that my heart, Earth’s heart, and God’s heart are one and the same.

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Experiences On the Road

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We slept last night in Carrion de los Condes in an albergue provided by the Hijos de San Vicente de Pablo. The sisters were lovely, warm and welcoming and highly huggable. They offered an oracion in their chapel last evening that included this composition. I offer it to you in the sisters’ charming translation:

EXPERIENCES ON THE ROAD

The Camino de Santiago is considered a WAY INSIDE, especially for those, who do it for religious reasons. For this reason there are prayers performed during the course of what is considered the Way of Life:
*Look hear, breath deeply, find tracks and wonders contact with nature, the peoples and their people, art history, the other pilgrims the hospitaleros That’s the beauty!, Something unique! footprints
Creator
*Enjoy the silence, solitude, seeking look. Pilgrim, Friend and Companion: Jesus walks with you. He is “WAY TRUTH AND LIFE”. Sit by the slowly…
*Read his word carries inside yourself and ruminating a passage along your way alo. Jesus offers what you get in the way, what you carry in your heart, you’re looking crave, talk to your loved ones, for those who suffer … We hear each other, share the word.
*Eat your bread of life the Eucharist
*Arise with joy, pilgrim march back to “home” now begins for you the true way, the daily life, consider what you have experienced and live in gratitude on the road … The road has operated profound changes in you, live with the right and necessary, greets and smiles, serves shares help.

I think their translation is spot on, and I will carry it with me on the Way.

Poppies on the Meseta

Today I walked 20 kilometers (around 12.5 miles) with relative ease, for which I am profoundly grateful. Our Burgos rest day was healing.

Today we walked up onto the vast central plateau of the Spanish peninsula, the Meseta. I am glad to be out of the city and back in the Spanish countryside, where the silence is profound, the sky is immense, and the choices are limited. Red poppies are everywhere.

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Cherubs and Skulls ( More Lessons from the Camino)

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We are in Burgos. Today is day 14 of our Camino de Santiago walk. The photo above, of a sweet little angel cradling a skull, is from the nave of Burgos Cathedral. It reflects how I feel perfectly.

The Camino is so much harder than I expected. I have been tempted to bail. Then, as I walk, I reflect on the hard things I have done in my life, and how glad I was and am that I did them. These hard things include being married, being a parent, learning to teach middle school, writing a thesis, moving… I’m not saying that just because something is hard it’s worth doing. Sometimes the right choice IS to walk away.

A few days ago I was sharing foot pain stories with a pilgrim from Ireland.
Kieran’s words, “You’re a pilgrim, not a martyr,” have helped me, and a few others, on the Way. I’m not sure exactly what the difference is yet. In many ways I feel more muddled up by the Camino than clarified.

Here are a few things I DO know:
1. Don’t squat in nettles.
2. Rural Spain often smells like wood smoke and sheep dung, a surprisingly lovely combination.
3. It’s possible to feel profound intimacy with people I’ve only known for a day, and with whom I don’t share a language.
4. There are some really loud snorers in the world.
5. I will indeed be one of those people that get out the albergue door at 7:00, walk fifteen miles, check into the next albergue, shower and do hand washing, and be sitting in the “plaza mayor” drinking a well-earned beer by 3:00. I find this incredible.
6. Forty people sleeping in a room can be pretty cool.
7. Community alleviates physical pain. At least a little.

Tomorrow we walk onto the Meseta, Spain’s central plateau. It’s raining as I write. Thank you for your prayerful support and positive mojo. Ultreia!

What I’ve Learned So Far on the Camino

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Only 36 hours on the Camino and I have learned so much already! Jed and I are in Zubiri, in Navarra. Yesterday we crossed the Pyrenees from France, a day that I have been worried about for months. We spent the night in Roncesvalles, in the Albergue Provincial at the foot of the Spanish Pyrenees, a monastery since medieval times. Here’s a little of what I know so far.

1. Transitions can happen when I’m not looking. We crossed from France into Spain and I didn’t know it because I missed the border sign, which I had been watching for. It didn’t matter. The transition happened anyway.

2. Mass in Spanish may still be incredible moving, probably more so than in English. I understand why people miss the Latin mass. “Esta noche, Espana es el mundo.” I cried. Of course, I was VERY TIRED.

3. What I think will be the hard part might not actually be the hard part. Twelve miles of interminable climbing yesterday was a piece of cake compared to the last two downhill miles, which hurt like a son of a bitch.

4. The oddest things evoke a visceral response. In the old church last night in Roncesvalles, there was a simple statue of St. James that spoke to my heart much more clearly than the gilded Virgen de Roncesvalles that dates from the 1400s. My response has nothing to do with my ego and everything to do with my heart.

5. Sometimes good advice is to “get up more times that you fall,” and sometimes good advice is “enough is enough.” Wisdom is probably being able to tell which one applies at any given moment. I hope I learn how to do that.

Less profoundly:

6. I really like waking to the serenading of volunteer Danish hospitaleros strolling through the dormitory singing “Wake up, little Suzy,” and “Morning has broken” at 6 am. This is a thoroughly charming ritual and I want more of it.

7. There are gigantic slugs in Spain, also.

8. Basque macaroons and pate are delicious, as is red wine from Navarra.

Most profoundly of all:

9. I am learning that I can walk farther than I thought I could (fueled primarily by cafe con leche and toast) and that I am so blessed, especially to be here with Jed.

Thank you all for your prayers and positive juju. I am grateful.

More lessons to follow.

Buen Camino!