Whispers from the Camino—Day Four

Zubiri to Villava. Sept. 8. 16.6 km

One of the things I committed to before I even embarked on this pilgrimage was to listen to my body. In fact, two months before the pilgrimage I served as the program speaker for the Seabeck Christian Family Camp in Washington state on the theme of “Life as Pilgrimage.” One of the days was fully dedicated to “listening to your body.”

Because I was still recovering from and rehabbing my left calf after a pickleball injury the January prior, this pilgrimage lesson of listening to one’s body was all the more important. I had taken many shorter hikes in the run up to the Camino and had one ambitious 12-mile hike on Mt. Hood in Oregon that convinced me I was ready for the Camino. But I had not tested my leg on the day-after-day long miles that a 500-mile walk would require. I knew that I had to listen to my body each and every day.

I woke up in Zubiri and almost immediately felt like this needed to be a rest day of sorts. By rest day, I don’t mean take a day off, but one where my leg would determine my distance rather than some planned destination.

Javier and me sharing a moment.

It was a rich day. The highlight was meeting and walking with Javier from Argentina. How does one explain Javier? Javier is one of those people whom everyone immediatley likes. He has this way of becoming an instant friend to everyone. He reminded me of a child who can’t contain their joy at every new discovery. This was Javier. Each person was a new discovery. Each turn in the trail presented him with a new delight. That childlike wonder that most of us have early in life had just never wore off him. I think what drew me to him was that he was more interested in hearing about my world than he was in telling me about his world. The interest was not the usual polite, “What do you do,” but a genuine fascination with what this pastor was doing out on pilgrimage..

We walked through a section that was clearly Basque Country. While I knew we were walking a pilgrimage through Northern Spain I didn’t realize that the Basque Country was culturally and linguistically independent. I think I had made some comment about being in this part of Spain and I was quickly corrected by a fellow pilgrim that the Basques are independent from Spain even though part of the Basque Territory comes under Spanish jurisdiction and another part under French jurisdiction. I could see the independent spirit in the art as we walked through the region.

I found myself thinking a lot about the distinction between surviving and thriving. On the pilgrimage I felt like I was thriving—I was walking every day, meeting new people, discovering new places, having ample time to think and pray, and keeping myself open to where life would take me next. But I was also aware that my future security was very fragile. My guaranteed income would run out in three weeks and I had no significant viable options waiting for me at the trail’s end. Yet, I was also aware that often when I was working it felt like I was just surviving.

I don’t know if my work has required it of me or if I am just wired to put everything I have into my work. But what I do know is that pastoral ministry and church executive work left me little time to enjoy some of the simple pleasures of life—the thriving part. This is partly why I have embarked on ambitious adventures. Rather than parse my enjoyment out in smaller bits in the course of every month or week or day, I have tended to push hard for months or years on end and then pack all of my joy into one grand adventure. But I had been increasingly uncomfortable with the either/or nature of this. I wasn’t sure what the answer was, but I was looking for a life where surviving and thriving co-existed in one lifestyle.

I had a moment toward the end of day when I thought, “Why the hell am I doing this pilgrimage?” I kind of wanted to just return to Portland, but even that thought grounded me again. I had my children and family in Portland, but no longer meaningful work in the area. I needed to be out on the trail to discover if Life or God was calling me to something new. The feeling passed quickly, but I noticed that my yearning to feel at home showed up in wanting to return to something even though I knew the answer was somewhere out ahead of me.