Day 9, on the feast of the Assumption, Amber and I arrived in Santiago de Compostella, Spain. That same day, many miles away in my childhood church of St Francis of Assisi in San Antonio Texas, they prayed an intention for me as I head off to the novitiate. Though those distances are great enough already, I realized that within a week I would return to PEI, say goodbye to friends and family, and have already left for NY. Can so much change in a week? I have been so focused on the present journey that the near future is catching me by surprise.
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| Amost there!! |
Back in spain, on the hill as we climbed to the cathedral using the ancient steep route, the moral of my story came to me - why I came on the camino. So far it had been unclear, but I went in faith, open to learning what the way had to teach me. There were frivolous lessons along the path (though still true) about trust, intuition, and faith. But the big one, and I trusted there must be a big one, well the big one surprised me. On a trip about taking on extreme physical hardship, leaving for an extended period of time, and journeying on a pilgrimage as people have done for centuries, I learned moderation.
Since the first day, I have jokingly called this trip: Camino Lite. In an 800km journey, I only did 191km. Where people normally carry their pack, I had mine taxi'd each day. People typically stay in hostels or Albergues without reservations, whereas I had private rooms booked. This Camino Lite was practice, a trial for the real thing when I would do it right. This was moderation, not the fully committed, jump into the deep-end of the pool approach that I generally have in life, and it took until the last day to see it. Ironically, I came into the trip hoping to learn to pace myself, to not do 30+ km each day, so I was seeking moderation without that label.
(Stamps in my pilgrim passport proving I walked the camino)
My normal (or perhaps former) way of doing things is nearly manic. When I read a book, I finish it even if it's boring and bad, just in case it gets better. If I read the first book in a series or see a few episodes of a tv show, I have to consume them all. If I have been to 48 states, I need to go to all 50. I spent the last few years checking off many of the boxes on my ever growing list - 6 continents, 41 countries, all 50 states and 10 provinces, scuba dived in all the oceans. But the camino - I did less than 25%, and somehow, that's completely okay. I worried that coming here would make me want to immediately return for the full one, and my next 2 years are planned (with no camino in between). But what I really learned was moderation.
One of my big fears with the next two years is wondering if I can really 'do normal' and have a regular schedule, every day waking at the same time, doing similar things, eating meals at the same time. My schedule for so many years has been inconsistent, filled with variety and completed at a near-manic pace. The next two years will require moderation and when my fears take over, that sounds like monotony. This trip has taught me that moderation may not be bad.
I did in 9 days what I did on a bike in 2 days during the tip to tip on PEI. What could be done in 2 hours in a car. 191km wouldn't even have gotten me across PEI!! But that's okay. It was the journey and the taking it slow. I learned (by the blisters on my feet and hobbled swagger in my step), that I walked too far and put too much pressure on myself to be a tourist in the evenings, sometimes adding 10 miles to the day's journey. Because I immediately left the hotel after arriving to tourist without giving my soft feet a chance to breathe, the skin was too fresh for flip-flops and would tear and stretch easily. That made these last few days much harder. With moderation, I could have set a daily limit to include being a tourist and avoided pain by taking more breaks. Also if I had newer boots and hiking socks (rather than cotton) - that would have helped.
Now with my new moderate take, I am surprised to notice what was once a burning desire to do the whole camino is now gone. I would still like return in the future, but it is no longer a need that must be immediately filled. Before, I justified this trip as camino lite, but perhaps this is my camino. In yoga, they tell you your practice changes each day. What pose you might have gotten into easily the day before might look much different today. This is my camino and this is good. I don't need to justify this as camino lite.
(My certificate!!!)
The first day Amber joined me (day 5), we wandered into a church (as I often do to peek my head in and say a quick prayer), and there was a cleaner who pointed us up to the priest for a stamp in our book. What a great way to start the day, to meet our two-stamp quota! We saw the priest, exchanged words in our own languages, and as we were about to leave, he gave us a blessing. It was in spanish so I only caught a few words - journey, pilgrim, safe, but it was a powerful way to journey onwards, setting off together anew.
(The church where we got a blessing)
I thought of the blessing when I arrived in Santiago. The front of the church is under construction so you can't put your hand below the statue where so many did before. There was a multi-hour line to hug a statue of Santiago from behind (which people do all through mass). We waited 40 minutes in a line that was closer to the DMV than the triumphant party I hoped awaited us to have our stamp book turned into a certificate. We returned for the pilgrim mass at 7:30 but were outside in line for the first half of mass, just trying to get in. But unlike the 3-ring circus that I sometimes feel in the holy sites with all the tourists, traditions, and impatience, here in Santiago I only saw people trying to connect to a religion that the media tells us is dying. I saw a mass so jam-packed with people that every seat and most walls were filled. I saw hope for our faith and our future. Rather than being sad I didn't get to perform the rituals, it was exciting that the restoration will ensure millions more people will be able to. People walked, biked, and drove hundreds of miles to be in that moment that I got to share with them.
(Cathedral of Santiago)
So, what is the fascination with the camino? I could have walked 191 km on PEI and slept in my bed each night. Part of the adventure was the unknown, not knowing what the end looked like or what I was headed to, but trusting it. Being okay with not doing something completely and perfectly (not even getting to 200 km), from beginning to end. That's the moderation I learned. In a time when society demands all-or-nothing commitment, I feel graced to be one step closer to 'do normal'.
(Finisterra day trip 'to the end of the world')
On a sillier note... we read that the mile markers end at 10km, so we took a picture with what we thought was the last one. It turns out there were many more. So we ignored them then tried to knock them over. This is the silliness that ensued....
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