Obvious Life Lessons: It's Not A Race

 

Day 1: Climbing the Pyrenees. The white spots are sheep. It would take me almost nine hours to get up and down the mountain pass.

Walk the Camino de Santiago and you will come away with lessons. In fact, the Camino refuses to let you be a slackass about learning. It actually gets to be interesting. Okay, what will you teach me today, Camino?

Consider the experience to be a life-in-miniature, start to finish. The conception and birth of your Camino plan. The childhood of learning to take care of oneself; the sweet freedom of adolescence; the importance of discipline in adulthood; the wisdom and satisfaction of perseverance that come with maturity. The bittersweet ending. The memories of what was.

Today I write about two obvious lessons, delivered by a slow awakening...the “aha” moments.

Day 1:  Already making progress! It was a hot, hair-plastering day. What I notice about this photo: how bright my shirt is! By the end--38 days later--it would be a paler "pilgrim" orange. And my water would not be in such an inaccessible place. Another lesson!

Lesson One:  Step by step. 

Google a map of the Camino Frances, all 500 miles. A pilgrim’s only job is to manage a dozen or so miles each day. Even knowing that, I had a hard time believing that all those small segments would actually add up and move me across a country. But they did. And about the time you feel like you’re really getting the hang of this pilgrim thing, it’s over.

Out the door of the albergue in the morning, with nothing more planned than the day’s proposed itinerary. Sometimes it was easy: A good night’s sleep, an anticipated landmark, or a cool breeze was enough to set the day in motion. Sometimes it was tougher: A touch of tendonitis, a weather forecast of over 90 degrees, another day of climbing...which always meant another day of wicked downhills. I never wanted to quit, but there was a serious string of days in the first couple of weeks when I honestly wondered why I ever thought the Camino was a good idea. It was harder than I expected, my knees hurt from the descents, and walking in the rain was not romantic.

But just like real life, there isn’t a choice. No opting out. The only direction is forward, and we must make the best of it. Great days. Days to simply endure. Horrendous days. The sweat from heat or from wearing a poncho. Fatigue and boredom. Then...sunshine again. A rainbow. Pure contentment. Always, the question of purpose. Always.

The surprise and beauty of rainbows after a storm. If we look, sometimes a double rainbow is our reward for walking in the rain.

It's the same for all of us--only without the backpack. A week flies by, then a month. Another round of holidays, and it’s time for New Year’s resolutions. School, job, family. We finally start to get the rhythm of being a productive adult. Then, wham! We’re facing retirement and a new identity. How did that happen?? Day by day, steadfast readers. Step by step.

An "easy" descent. Lots of rocks and furrows, which always require attention and put stress on the knees. But the view ahead? Pure motivation!

Lesson Two: Someone is always ahead of you and someone else is always coming up from behind.

At first, I would be discouraged by the tiny figures of pilgrims who were ahead of me. Sure, the younger folks could move like gazelles, but how did that couple from France get way up there? They were still sleeping when I left. For awhile, I wouldn’t look ahead; some people were so far in front of me. It was going to take me forever to make it to the top of that hill. It felt a bit like failure. I was a bad pilgrim.

Then, slowly--aha!--it didn’t matter. I would get there, too. And those who were following me would see me at the top of the hill...and know that their turn was coming. We were just moving at our own pace. Some like to dash ahead, some like to stop often for breaks or to take photos. Some like to just sit, eyes closed. Each of us was different, spending our day as we should, and as we wished. Most of us would end up in the same town that night, and nearly all of us would arrive at Santiago de Compostela within a few days of each other.

So. The lesson? There will ALWAYS be someone who seems to be sailing ahead, while another plods along behind the pack. A thousand reasons why, but none really matter. It's organic, always changing. We will all end up in the same place. And hopefully, we are pleased with our journey.

Day 38…Step by step

That's how humanity moves. In a line. Generations, always some ahead, and some still starting out. We will travel the same path called life, but in different ways. Different tempos. Different timeframes. Same twenty-fours hours, differently spent.

It's your life. Your pilrimage. It's not a race.

The line of pilgrims at the Peregrino Office, waiting to register for their official Compostela. Some walked, some rode bikes. Each has a unique reason for the pilgrimage, time spent, as well as experience.

 

 

Comments

[Hattie]

Wow. This is so fascinating. And fortuitous. I just finished reading *Wild* and have been thinking a lot about long journeys on foot!
Glad to have discovered you via Type Pad and have put you on my blog roll.