On the Eve of my Camino

Tomorrow I leave to walk the Camino in northern Spain.  I’ve had people ask if I’m going to blog, post on Facebook, go to meetings, call my husband or sister or sponsors.  No.  I plan to be silent as much as possible during this 10 day walking meditation retreat.  Sure, I’ll interact with other pilgrims along the way, have conversations with people from around the world, talk to inn keepers and shop owners in my rusty Spanish. But for the most part, I hope to be silent for hours on end listening to inner guidance, the still small voice, or the conversation of the natural world.

 I crave this silence even as I run pell mell from it during a typical day.  When I get on Facebook, time slips away and before I know it, my consciousness has ping ponged from political analysis to spiritual guidance, from friends who rejoice about weight loss to others who share heartbreak. Over the years I’ve curated my own life for social media consumption, and developed a habit of thinking in captions, imagining an audience response, and checking back frequently for comments and likes.  I don’t know how to moderate this habit, so I’m going cold turkey and taking a social media fast.

I’m walking for ten or so days because I want to slow down, to “move at the pace of guidance,” as Christina Baldwin so eloquently puts it, and to examine what’s underneath these desires to remove myself from the moment or intensify it.

I sit everyday for twenty minutes of meditation to improve my conscious awareness of how connected to Source I already am.  That connection never goes away, but my consciousness sure shifts throughout a day. Walking in silence, paying attention to each step on a stony path, putting a walking stick down before my feet move requires a level of mindfulness I don’t need to get through my usual world. Displacing myself, being physically uncomfortable and emotionally off balance because I have no plans or reservations, knowing no one, and being in the elements most of the day means I will have to draw upon inner spiritual resources for help and guidance.

Last night I found a shell, drilled a hole in it and threaded wire to attach it to my backpack.  That may not sound like a big deal, but I don’t use drills or cut wire, and so my journey is already underway, using new skills and what’s at hand to make do.

Where do you find safety?

Last night I took a walk in my neighborhood and admired the many yards blooming with flowers, shrubs, and ornaments.  These modest houses are well-kept, close together, and built in a time of solid construction. I’ve learned how deep the roots in northeast Minneapolis are for some people who live in their grandparents’ house, or return to the block on which they were raised, or have children living close by.  We don’t need bigger houses to enjoy a marvelous life.

Where do you find safety? We each hold a worldview that helps us feel safe.  Right now, a group that believes there’s not enough for everyone and therefore they need to insure they get theirs (“we will not be replaced”) is in the news. A perspective of scarcity interprets anyone else’s advance as dangerous and any means towards self-protection as ok.

I feel safe believing this is an abundant world, and that when everyone has food, shelter, water, education and health, we’re all better off.  As I let go of more stuff, cut my working hours with a corresponding cut in pay, and stop shopping for recreation, I learn to focus on what truly nourishes my spirit—connections with others, creative endeavors, and time outside. 

In less than 10 days I head off to walk in Spain--an attempt to displace myself from routine, put my safety in the hands of strangers, and live with what I carry in a backpack. It’s one thing to say this world is abundant and loving and another to trust it through action. No doubt at least a few times I’ll have to leap empty-handed into a void and develop new levels of faith. (I’ll also carry a phone and a credit card,  a safety net millions do not have.)

How to reconcile these two viewpoints of the way the world operates? How to talk to someone threatened by another’s thriving? I don’t know.  I have people who believe this in my life today, and I’m not certain how to have conversations with them.  Maybe when I return I’ll have new stories that show that loving everyone in this world really is the route to freedom and joy.

Why am I doing the Camino?

I’ve felt called to take this pilgrimage across northern Spain ever since I saw the documentary about it, which I sought out because I’d read two memoirs by people who had walked it, and then I saw The Way with Martin Sheen.  All of those confirmed this was something I wanted to do, and for a while I asked friends if they’d like to go. Everyone had bad feet or bad knees, and one dear friend said yes and then backed out because she doesn’t like to walk at all and realized she just wanted to spend time with me.

So I’m going alone, two years after my original plan, and only for a couple weeks. I have sought the advice of psychics several times and the messages are always about letting go of planning, buying more socks than I think I need, and being open to ending it sooner if that’s what happens.  Be prepared for pain, but also don’t push.

I’m a transformation junkie and have learned one of the best ways to change is to displace myself regularly. I had a huge shift at 17 while living in Turkey as an exchange student for a summer. I didn’t know the language, my dad had just died, I got homesick, started smoking and was drunk for the first time there. I also never saw the world the same way. Since then I’ve been looking to be transformed through travel, and am usually disappointed because I’ve been a tourist rather than a traveler mostly since then.

So walking across Spain feels like being a traveler, staying in little towns or big cities, resting or pushing on, eating or going hungry, all of this looms ahead of me. I studied Spanish but it’s been years. I am hopeful it will come back.

What is the Camino to me?

It’s a chance to be in quiet, without the usual distractions of facebook, or the radio, or even other people.

It’s a chance to ask for help when I’m lost, for conversation when I’m lonely, and for food when I’m hungry or a bed when tired.

It’s an opportunity to follow the thread of an idea to its conclusion without interruption.

It’s the chance to remember things I’ve forgotten and re-experience blissful memories.

It’s a chance to pray while walking, bring people into my heart, and send love to the world.

It’s a chance to be surprised, expect lovely connections, and look for synchronicity.

It’s a chance to ask and watch the need be fulfilled in the most amazing and timely ways.

It's a chance to really know that things are always working out for me.

It’s a chance to talk to my body, listen to it deeply, give it what it needs and see what she can do.

It’s a chance to appreciate my strength, stamina, and spirit of adventure.

It’s mostly a chance to listen to my intuition, follow my heart’s desires, and do exactly what I want for a couple weeks without taking anyone else into account.