Camino Stage 1 - Reflection 1

Stage 1 completed: Reflections 1

I first felt the desire to undertake this pilgrimage over forty years ago when a friend did it. I was fascinated by what I heard. Life intervened, very wonderfully, and I never had the chance until now. This first putting my feet in the water of pilgrimage has been utterly wonderful. Sometimes it is very hard work: sometimes the work dissolves into being something uplifting.

 An older body complains more, and needs some careful management. When you get tired, more aches than used to when you were young. So you have to learn to know when this just normal, and will be fine after a rest and a good night's sleep, when you must take more care of yourself.

Just going with your pack is also very liberating. There is a vast quantity of advice out there about what to take etc, much of it aimed at those who are going to camp. But even if, like me, you have opted for the softer option of staying in homes that offer hospitality to pilgrims (for a very modest fee it must be said) you still don't want to be carrying more than you absolutely must. I am so thankful for having a pack that really fitted me well, and excellent walking shoes. Neither my back nor my feet, nor indeed my neck and shoulders gave me any trouble. 

Walking the country paths was magical. And saying my prayers each morning as I set out, put me in the way of sensing an almost mystical sense of connection to the world I was inhabiting. I was alert to all that going on around me, from the beetles and snails and slugs I avoided, to the birds all around, to the great growing trees, and the orchids and lilies in the hedgerows, the butterflies, and the animals I saw. All of this evoked a sense of participation in the delightful variety of creation. Even more, it bridged the gap we humans so often create, by our obsession with our own busy lives, separated from the life and the beauty around us. We give ourselves airs: walking in nature brings us back to our being part of it all, and reminded me of my transience and fragility. 

Country people always greet you. Sometimes they talk for a little while, sometimes just greet. But I love that acknowledgement of others who are my neighbours. Not so much in towns, and hardly at all in Paris.

Unmoored from the places and activities that identify you, and let others think either that they understand you, or can at least put you safely in a box, pilgrimage allows you to meet and be met without pretension. And the kindness of strangers is extraordinary, and at times, almost overwhelming. One has little to offer; pilgrims are, by design, liminal people. What you can offer is your loving attention, your openness, and your prayers. There was one moment, when someone had shared with me some very difficult concerns, just because I was there, I think, and I failed to do what I think I should have done, which was to offer to bless her. I had said something about praying for her - but it was only 5 kms later that I realised what I both instinctively wanted to offer, but had felt a bit English about, and so hadn't. 

A very ancient oak - one of the "remarkable trees of France"

There is more to say, but I think that is enough for tonight.