Camino Countdown

Days breaking in glorious sunshine and record warm temperatures welcome this month in colorful bursts of wildflowers. For Rena and I, the arrival of June brings the Camino to the forefront of our daily experience- out from the far away timeline, plucked from thin air several months ago. Though we have done our best to ready ourselves for this journey, we frequently exchange notions of how clueless we actually are. Acknowledging that preparing, on some level, is impossible.

We are now caught up in the weeds of practicality, making sure our home and pets will be in good hands. We're making lists, stocking the freezer and cupboards to make sure every potential need is addressed. Just the other day I spent an hour painstakingly documenting how to work the T.V., DVR, cable and remote so that our house sitter can be spared the overwhelming task of trying to figure it out on her own. I admit, I assume without just cause, that everyone is as technologically dumbfounded as I am. In between sewing up life's details, there is a distinct excitement bubbling close to the surface. That twinge of ectasy, anticipation and wonder validates all the effort; the walking, daily meditations, and coordinating the mundane necessities to make possible the journey. The Camino captured my attention nearly a decade ago. Like an all consuming love affair, I knew I had to eventually commit or turn her loose. Although I tried to walk away, she continued to cast her spell. Visiting me in dreams, popping up in literature and whispering to my seeking soul in the darkness of night. Soon I will walk her winding trail and drink of her spiritual cup to satisfy the seeker, saint and sinner within. The countdown has officially begun.

What I love about Matthew

The last few weeks I've spent walking, walking and still more walking with a brief few days spent in Michigan visiting my kiwi brother and long time pragmatic friend, Matthew.
Matthew's lifestyle and belief system is completely different from mine but somewhere, beyond reason and a mystery to many, our core's connect. In karmic comedy we have been thrown together this time around living out our own corrupted version of the Odd Couple. Our twenty year friendship includes a decade of being flatmates. Who ever said the eyes are the window to the soul never shared a kitchen and bathroom with Matthew. In addition to the insight provided, it was a trial by fire of my intestinal fortitude ....Matthew's Oscar Maddison, challenged the Felix Unger in me without apology. Although it had been five years since we'd last seen one another and much had changed in our personal lives, we had no trouble picking up from where we left off. Our Camino conversation went something like this;

"So, you still haven't found yourself and are hoping that walking 500 miles will turn you, up...man, why don't you just get a treadmill?"

"Because I hate to exercise."

He screwed up his face, momentarily stumped. In traditional Matthew fashion, he moved on.

"What exactly is supposed to happen to you on this thing...this walk? Is it like enlightenment or something?"

"Enlightenment would be nice, but I'm not holding my breath on that one. I'm hoping that it ends up being a very good walk...maybe gain some insights, some direction...witness a few miracles. That sort of thing."

"Mmmhmm." He nodded in support and in the spirit of true friendship did not allow the lack of detail to cloud how important it was to me. He posed a final question about my journey.
"When you get back, will you get a tattoo to say you did it?"

Now, up until that moment, I really hadn't considered a tattoo. Within a split second my response was out of my mouth and set in stone....surprising even me!
"That's a great idea! Yes, I will get a tattoo to say I did it. A scallop shell with a hint of something meaningful ....It'll come to me."

"Cool. That'll be awesome."

My enthusiasm for his suggestion instantly validated the Camino for him. He now had something concrete, a purpose, for one enduring such a long walk when simply purchasing a treadmill should suffice. The spiritual pieces of the puzzle were, in his mind, secondary to the mystery of choosing the perfect tat that would somehow explain it all. It is in visiting his world of unconditional support, heavy metal and horrendous habits that I am reminded what I love about Matthew.

You must break an Egg to make scrambled sense

Much of this week's preparation has been focused on the mind branch of mind, body, spirit; contemplating, churning, stewing and theorizing. When I asked, in meditative prayer, for an intellectual piece of the Camino, one that I could digest and apply to my own unspoken desires, I was led to a study about chickens, of all things. At first, I didn't recognize the significance of the chicken study, tempted to ask again, in case the universe didn't quite catch my drift or was messing with me. Something prompted me to err on the side of faith and patience, not to be so quick to dismiss it. I'll do my best to share what I learned and tie it all together without sounding insane.





As a chick develops inside an egg, the surrounding environment..the hard shell and the gooey stuff act as protector and provider. The shell literally shelters the embryo from outside disturbances allowing it to grow and become in its' very own time space. The gooey stuff, for lack of a technical term, nourishes the chick as it grows. Delicately balancing the art of giving nutrients while providing a space for waste that occurs during gestation.





There comes a time, at around 21 days, where the surrounding environment inside the egg no longer serves as haven and provider. On the contrary, within the shell walls, the environment becomes toxic, threatening the very survival of the life form it was designed to protect. In a twist of cosmic irony, the chick is literally dying to be born. Prompted by survival, the chick exhausts itself, pecking away at the hard inner walls of its' protective sanctuary turned prison.

So strong is the chick's quest and desire to be born that neither fear nor confinement can deter its' commitment. The chick has to be born and so it is.



After I finished reading, it took me a few moments to understand the parallel that I was given. I had asked that my mind be provided with some sense of reason for which I am drawn to the road known as Camino. Spiritually I felt it, but intellectually I struggled to make sense of it, that is, until I understood how much of a chicken I truly am. For in my own life, has not my environment, the thoughts occupying my mind, become toxic? Hasn't being surrounded by the shell of civilization and its' promise of liberation; work, possessions, bills, deadlines etc. turned on me, suddenly becoming my captor? Like the chick, I too am dying to be born and neither fear nor confinement can detract from that commitment. So it would seem that I have found the scrambled sense needed to satisfy my intellect. The Camino is where I begin pecking away, driven by the desire to be born....and so it is.

Walking in the Rain while volcanoes erupt

I wonder how often people recognize universal response in its' simplest form? You know, you're thinking of buying a certain type of car and suddenly they're all over the place..everywhere you drive or park, there's the very car you're thinking would be a good fit for you. You're given coincidental opportunity to see it on the road, talk with owners in random parking places about their satisfaction with the vehicle. Or, you're prompted into impulse on line at the grocery store. You never needed a travel size window repair kit, but the price is right and you think what the hell, it comes in a nifty little case. You find yourself wondering how on earth the thing works and within a short time, you get an opportunity to find out. Your windshield gets chipped by a passing truck, a friend mentions an unexplainable crack in their window. Before you know it, that impulse purchase now becomes relevant to your daily experience. It happens all the time and I like to think that coincidence is merely the absence of intuitive recognition.



After purchasing the final item for my Camino pilgrimage, a stasher rain jacket, I viewed the the skies opening up and releasing torrents of rain as more than universal whimsy. No joke, Rena and I purchased our stuff away rain coats and the very next day, after a good run of glorious sunshine and spring breezes, clouds rolled in, temperatures dropped and the rain began. We knew we had little choice but to don our new cloaks and head for the hills. Opportunity was knocking with a sledge hammer, giving us just what we asked for. Suffice to say, the jackets have proven themselves well worth their reasonable price of $35.00. Not only do they compact into a palm sized pouch for easy storing, they're nearly weightless, made very well, come in great colors and kept us dry while we wandered for hours on our favorite trails. This morning, we elected to do a quick walk of two hours due to time constraints and I was rather pleased when a slight rain began to fall the moment we stepped on a familiar path.

"Did you hear that the volcano has erupted again in Iceland?" I ask Rena, not to make idle conversation but because our flight to the Camino leaves from Iceland in just about two months.

"Oh. Well then we'll be fine." She says with a level of certainty that catches me mid step.

"You sound pretty certain of that." Truth is, I'm feeling that way myself. Almost relieved that the eruption has happened now, causing all kinds of chaos with flights throughout Europe. I feel like I should be worried yet I know this is some kind of opportunity that I can't quite put my finger on.

"It's just clearing the way for us." She says matter of fact like. "Getting whatever it needs to out of its' system so we won't have any issues."

We walk on in silence a few more paces, our new rain coats swishing in rhythm to each stride.

"Besides," She concludes, "I'll bet looking down over Iceland, after an eruption, as we fly off will be absolutely amazing. Maybe we'll see lava flowing or newly formed landscapes...a once in a lifetime send off to a once in a lifetime journey."

"No coincidences."

We completed the trail and headed home. I am reminded through the echos of our conversation that play on in my mind, how active and amazing the moment is when intuition...recognition or a simple knowing waves its' magical hand from another time space, playfully. There really are no coincidences. No chance meetings. No uncanny purchases. No thoughts unanswered and no accidental volcanic eruptions. Everything is just perfect. Coincidentally, life works, in spite of the absence of intuitive recognition. I smile as I stuff my coat back into its' pouch, thankful for the rain.

Is underwear necessary?

Finally, the rain has subsided here in the Northeast. The appearance of the sun provides just the inspiration needed to resume our daily walks. I realize that it will likely rain during my Camino pilgrimage and that will present its' own challenges and adventure aspects when the time comes. However, I don't feel that I would be better prepared for rain on the Camino by walking in torrential downpours as part of my 'training' regime. I'll leave that to the whims of chance.



Rena and I decided to incorporate more hill climbs in our walking regiment to help us better prepare for crossing the Pyrenees. We are fortunate to live in an area where there are hundreds of acres of backwoods trails to explore, with no shortage of steep terrain tracks. To make it relevant, without the rain that is, we strap on our packs and set off. Within the first few miles of climbing, our breathing becomes labored, thighs start to burn and we begin scrutinizing the necessity of each item in our packs.



"Seriously, do I really need underwear at all?" I throw it out for consideration like a flash of brilliance and am instantly met with her patented look, disbelief meets disapproval.



"Underwear? That's what you come up with?" Immediately disarmed, I let it go for the moment. We walk on in silence. I instinctively know, by way of marriage telepathy, Rena is racking her brains struggling to determine what she could live without on the Camino. I can see her ticking off items in her mind ultimately coming up empty handed. Suddenly, I feel vindicated, my underwear suggestion wasn't so outrageous after all.

Here, without censorship, is the full list of my pack contents weighing in at 13 pounds. I leave it up to trusted friends, family and fellow Camino enthusiasts to decide what I may be able to leave behind. As always, your comments and suggestions are much appreciated.

1. water bottle (12 ounce)
2. micro fiber quick dry towel
3. 2 pair shorts (1 pair has zip on legs)
4. 3 pair underwear
5. 1 sports bra
6. 2 shirts (1 tank top 1 short sleeve)
7. 1 fleece pull over
8. 3 pair socks
9. 2 soft cover blank journals
10. 1 sleep sack/bag
11. camera & charger
12. stasher rain jacket
13. 1 small rock to leave at Charlemagne's cross
14. 1pair hiking boots
15. 1 pair waterproof sports sandals
16. First aide/toiletry items; 1 roll TP, toothbrush, travel size toothpaste, deodorant, 4 safety pins, body glide, travel size shampoo, glacier gel strips, 3 bio freeze sampler packs, band aide blister strips, hair comb, anti septic cream, matches, sun screen, chapstick, swiss army knife, compact mirror, micro mag lite, pain killers and 4 sterile alcohol pads.
17. Sunglasses
18. Doo rag

There you have it. After reviewing each item's functionality and overall importance, I stand by the question I posed to Rena while hiking for the first time with the weight of my Camino pack on a glorious Spring day somewhere among the forested hills of Massachusetts....Seriously, do I really need underwear?

Heaven. No lines, no waiting.....

A holy year, according to Camino credence, is one in which July 25th, the feast day of Saint James, falls upon a Sunday. 2010 denotes such a year. I'm not surprised, having come from a childhood heavily steeped in Catholicism, by the added dogma and clout a holy year pilgrimage proposes to the faithful. Although I have long ago shed my religion, I remain intrigued by the ornate rituals and complex intricacies woven within the institution and revered by her followers. Discovering we had inadvertently planned our pilgrimage during a holy year has piqued my interest and roused the inner mystic inspired by such coincidences.



"You know, it looks as though we're doing this in a Holy Year..." I say to Rena, who's heavily engaged in a round of laptop Marjon. I wait, expecting her to forfeit up some words of wisdom.



"Do we know what that means, exactly?" She asks.


"Something about getting to bypass purgatory and go straight to heaven." I reply with no level of certainty.


"Can't hurt." She shruggs before offering what seems to have become our life's motto, "I don't see why not.."


Why not indeed, for what is a spiritual pilgrimage without nuances of mysticism and traces of soul cleansing powers?



In researching further, according to Catholic tradition, completing the Camino De Santiago, the way of Saint James, grants forgiveness of sins for two years. That in and of itself, I imagine, would be quite the allure for practicing Catholics, past and present. Afterall, it seems one could rack up the sins pretty quickly, effortlessly even, just by going through life's daily grind. In 1122, Pope Calixtus II gave Compostella the authority to grant Plenary Indulgence to those making their pilgrimage during a holy year. Plenary Indulgence essentially translates to a "get out of purgatory" free card in the monopoly of Catholic afterlife.


While I don't personally subscribe to the notion of sin in line with religious teachings, I understand the concept and shudder at how quickly distorted it becomes. To organized religion, whose survival depends on recruiting and retaining the masses, sin and salvation are big business. The word's origins trace back to an archery term. To "sin" simply meant that you missed or fell short of the mark. An offense not to be judged or punished but rather serving as a gentle reminder to fine tune and improve one's aim. To that extent, it's evident that sin is alive and well in our evolution. It is an integral stepping stone on our path to enlightenment, in as much so as crawling was to our walking upright. The promise of forgiveness for two years of my own, personal, missed marks, although a lovely offer, really isn't necessary or a huge draw for me.


The existence of purgatory, the in between place, is a bigger and more interesting stretch. How can I reconcile an undefined period of limbo, with the beliefs that I embrace? I contemplate the similarities between the concept of purgatory and that of reincarnation. Each offering a soul reflection time of their earthly lives, their sins or, more aptly put, their missed marks. Purgatory provides a specific place for that reflection while reincarnation provides you the best place to take another shot at the target. In no time, I find I can rest there void of internal conflict, with a new found spiritual commonality, I had overlooked before. Perhaps they both exist, granting us yet another opportunity to take aim and hit the bulls eye before moving on to our final destination, home. Common are the threads which bind the hearts of seekers! The discovery is pleasantly surprising.




And so it is there, among the scraps of spiritual similarities and reverence, that I welcome the redemption granted to pilgrims who trek during a holy year. The possibility of not having to repeat my performance here on earth, to go striaght into the arms of the divine AND to be let off the hook for my missed marks....sign me up! To echo the words of my favorite teacher seems appropriate "I don't see why not..."

Intent

Intent. We enter this week, our minds, hearts and spirits seeking to make clear, to embrace and understand that which we intend to do. We begin with a series of whys to unearth the seeds of desire. In meditation we contemplate it, in prayer we seek answers and while walking among wooded trails which helps us physically prepare, we talk amongst ourselves, Rena and I, in search of our personal truths. In search of our intent.



Since committing to the journey of a million steps, give or take a few hundred thousand depending on ones' stride, it's apparent that intent is a crucial piece of the Camino puzzle. Honoring the desire. Heeding the call of the ancients who walked before and whose essences remain en route to Santiago is a desire so hypnotizing, so seductive, that in the spirit of exploration, we must uncover the root of the mysterious allure for ourselves. For a journey so significant, so ethereal to produce the transformational effects we sense bubbling just beneath the surface, Rena and I believe we must set forth with clear intentions in order to reap the sacred alchemy of our pilgrimage.



"We'll loose at least twenty pounds each." I say enthusiastically as we walk. "I'm not saying that's my only intention, but it definitely beats the Jenny Craig way."

Rena agrees. Since officially marrying in 2006, giving up cigarette smoking AND free falling past the forty milestone we have both become well rounded women in the biblical sense. We never thought such drastic change could happen to us. Our once tidy bodies, smooth and firm in all the right places have seemingly been taken hostage by the demons of middle age and lethargy.



It's no surprise that weight loss is one of the many givens when walking the Camino. There is no way you can walk 20-25kms a day, for thirty five days, in peak summer temps, living on broth, bread and wine without shedding some baggage. Quite honestly, the prospect of dropping weight and doing so while on the spiritual discovery of a lifetime is thrilling to me. I acknowledge that it may not be the highest of spiritual principals, but the intention is definitely there.

Slightly higher on the list is the intention of renewing and deepening my relationship. With television and worldly distractions far removed, the Camino is certain to deliver a relationship experience that is rather in your face, so to speak. It is my intention that the road to Santiago provide us many opportunities to deepen our understanding, respect and love for each other. Should things go South, should patience take a vacation and intolerance raise its' middle finger in defiance, it is my intention to conquer those aspects of myself then and there in a final revolutionary showdown. It is my intention to come through the experience a finer lover, friend and partner. While on the sideline, the shadow of my former self celebrates the personal evolution. And that, is my intention.

Lastly, a series of intentions join together under the Umbrella of miscellany. A mosaic of hopes, dreams and intuitive glances. We walk as an offering, a homage to all that is. We walk to honor those whose footsteps came before us, whose calling we heard. We walk to honor those who'll come after us, who've yet to be called. We walk for healing. For ones we love, ones we do not know and for ourselves. Finally, we walk with a willingness to be vulnerable, open to whatever the lessons in store may be. We do so with excitement, hope and a resounding belief that we are meant to travel this path, at this time in this way.