One Month Ago I Walked Into Santiago

One month ago I walked into Santiago, the final stop on the Camino de Santiago and my 500th mile.  In many ways it seems like yesterday and in others like its been much longer ago. Funny how time can be elusive.  Who knew how much my perspective about what makes a happy life could change from the time I exited the St. Jean Pied de Port train station, which was my last form of motored transportation, until I walked into the final city after 39 calendar days and 37 days of walking.

​

I remember all the times I had wondered, “Can I do this?” Now I knew I had.

Missing it fiercely, I understand now that for many pilgrims – and that includes me – the actual physical walking of the Camino is just a part of The Way, because the Camino continues to unfold an invisible path for us to follow.

Walking through the winding streets Santiago de Compostela old town on June 14th, vision blurred from the rain, following the path down the stairs past the man playing bagpipes and through the tunnel, I entered the Praza do Obradoiro (Galician for “Square of the Workshop”) where after looking around and finally turning to my left, I could see the main facade of  Santiago de Compostela Cathedral.

Surprising to me, I didn’t feel euphoric.  I was wet and cold, and in many ways as strange as it may sound, I had been dreading this moment when the journey would end.  The rain had momentarily turned from a downpour to a drizzle and dropping my backpack on the stairs, asked a fellow pilgrim to take my photo, trying to put a happy stamp on this moment.  Then turning to the caped greeter, asked directions to the pilgrim’s office where I would receive my compostela, or Certificate of Completion.

The line was long and wound down two corridors. Such a sea of wet pilgrims and backpacks!   At this important moment in time, instead of jubilation, I was feeling sad.  My inner voice was saying, “You should be happy”, “You should be excited” and we all know what happens when we should all over ourselves – it’s not a pretty picture.

I’ve come to realize now that joy and sorrow are just two sides of the same coin and in proportion to each other.  The deeper the feeling of joy we experience it will be counterbalanced with the same depth of sorrow.  The Camino was and continues to be a very deep experience for me – more than I originally understood it could be – so it makes sense that the extreme joy I felt while on the Camino could be matched with sadness at its ‘ending’.

I remember my one evening in Santiago – walking around the old town after the rain had stopped, eating tapas with fellow pilgrims, and listening to a concert in the Plaza which was magical.  The music brought me the celebration I was needing.

As I lay my head on the pillow for the only night’s sleep in Santiago and thoughts of the day tumbled around in my head, I looked forward that the final not-to-be-missed experience which was attending the Pilgrim’s Mass at Noon the following day.  The mass is conducted in Spanish with small sections in multiple languages. With very little English being spoken, I absorbed the energy and beauty around me, not the words. At the end of mass, the swinging Botafumeiro is suspended by a pulley system installed back in 1601 and takes eight men in red robes called tiraboleiros to hoist and position it. After being lit, it swings in a 65-meter arc dispensing clouds of incense originally done to mask the odor of the tired and unwashed pilgrims, now a much looked forward to tradition.

Santiago seems so very far away now.  As I’ve slowly returned to my everyday life and work, I have been in a constant quest to establish a new lifestyle that celebrates all the good of the Camino – fresh air, exercise, fellowship and staying present in the moment.  Some of you know that I lost both my husband and my mother within months of each other many years ago which taught me at an early age how precious and unpredictable our time here on earth is.  The Camino has upped that appreciation in spades.

Last weekend I was at a friend’s beautiful home to attend a birthday BBQ for her son who was turning 13. Both his friends along with his sister’s friends (just a couple years younger) and their parents made up the attendees.  My friend was one of the original Microsoft employees who exited with a windfall from those early days.  Her children attend private schools and because we live in ‘Microsoft country’, many of the other parents work there.  It’s a competitive and insular culture.

The very first person I struck up a conversation with, which continued throughout the evening, mirrored the thoughts that had been dancing in my head.  “Rex” was born and raised in a small village in England though he has been here and working at Microsoft for twenty years. Our conversation started with Camino talk and by comparing small village life in Europe to here.  He was quite funny as he acted out the local pub conversations that he still experiences when he returns to visit his father, the amount of beer consumed and the iconic poking fun the guys all do to each with sarcasm and self-deprecation, often with deadpan delivery in a way only the British can do.  He then began to compare it with parties he attends with other Microsoft parents where the conversations are all about their work or their children’s work of getting the best grades to get into the best schools, etc.  He saw these conversations as stressful – certainly not fun like tipping a pint in a pub –  and indicative of the get ahead lifestyles that he recognizes he contributes to with an expensive home, private schools for his children and ‘stuff’.  As the evening continued he shared that he had been a lead engineer on the Xbox project a few years.  As deadlines approached, dinner would be brought in by Microsoft and there was no easy way to bow out (remember, the culture is very competitive).  He would often return home in the early morning hours for some shut eye before going back to do the same over again a few hours later.  Answering company emails on weekends are a given at Microsoft; as well as working on Saturday.  After a particularly long siege of this and having promised his children some quality time on a particular Sunday, he received a dreaded email that instead he would be expected to go into the office that day.  When he told his children, they started to cry and it broke his heart.

We both agreed by the end of the evening that quality of life could not be found when we are stuck in work or cultural situations that do not support the value of life rather than things.  Where is that in-between space of where we are now and where we want to be – where we can live with happiness and contentment?

I’m very aware that I attracted this conversation and that hopefully it gave both Rex and me some additional stepping stones in our individual desires to learn, grow and implement change so that our lives can evolve into higher and more satisfying realms.  I’m slowly putting together the pieces of a new puzzle called “After the Camino” that has more space for living.

Thank you for so many who have encouraged me to write that book. I hope that when completed it can offer some guidance for those who are considering the Camino, or just want to learn more about. Many of you have asked if I am still walking. The answer is YES! Not like I was before the Camino when I was on a training schedule. Not like on the Camino with every day 15 mile plus or minus walks. But creating what I am calling my maintenance schedule that includes daily short walks with one or two longer walks each week. The last two Saturdays I have walked about 14 miles to a neighboring town and back on ‘pretend caminos’, not forgetting that I did indeed arrive and will again!

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save