Remembering... by Forgetting

I meet regularly with a spiritual director. For those who aren't familiar with what a spiritual director does, he or she is not a guru where you follow their directions unchallenged. No, many religious traditions encourage using spiritual guides to help believers on the path of spiritual growth. A spiritual director serves as a resource on your personal journey of faith. A good spiritual director helps you recognize how the Holy Spirit is working in your life. The emphasis is deepening one’s relationship with God - not with the spiritual director.

One of the things that we've been talking about is why I find the Camino de Santiago so important to my spiritual well being. I feel healthier and stronger - spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally. I may have ups and downs with physical well being, for blisters can be pretty painful and thankfully seem to have disappeared as an issue for me. Why does this journey always make me feel closer to God and why don't I find this closeness as easily at home?

To some, I find God easily, in quiet discussions with people, in celebrations of life, in breaking bread with people I'm learning to know. And yet, that doesn't happen all day long. Other times of the day, I become impatient. Or anxious. Or lazy. Or selfish. And I distance myself from that which I enjoy most. I don't act in the way of unconditional love or in gratitude. It's discouraging, frustrating, and more than a little exasperating because I feel like every time I make a step forward, I'm also taking a step back.

I keep thinking to myself, "Stop forgetting what you've learned, whether here or on the Camino". Remember! Don't forget!

At one point earlier this year, my spiritual director pointed out that perhaps I have it backwards. Perhaps I'm not forgetting what I've learned. Instead, I'm remembering all the wrong things. I'm acting reflexively, remembering all the things I've been taught throughout my life, by society, by stress, by bullies, by bigots. I'm remembering it all and I'm never forgetting.

Except when I'm on Camino.

Now, when I first walked the Camino in 2014, I, in fact, did carry all these things I was taught. I didn't ever mention my spouse's name, though I wore a wedding ring. In sharing his name, I would reveal my sexual orientation, and for some reason, like a stone in my backpack that weighed me down, I buried this and hid it from others. And for what benefit? Was I safer? I doubt it. For my reputation? I didn't know any of these people. Why?

It wasn't until that night in Melide when I realized that I wasn't giving space for the Holy Spirit to work in my life that I began to change how I walked the Camino. You can read about that day at "I Lost My Hat and Found My Head". I avoided Jim because he was different. I feared that he was a bigot, with scant evidence and certainly no benefit of the doubt. And in doing so, I was blocking the very messenger that God was sending me.

In walking differently, I started to leave behind those stones, leave behind the things that hurt me. I started to let the Camino, let God, let my fellow travelers protect me, care for me, and love me as I loved them. In that vulnerability, I traveled more simply, more lightly.

And in doing so, I was unlearning - forgetting - all the defense mechanisms and habits that weren't helping me but instead were holding me back.  I shed the memories of pain and hurt and just walked simply, one step at a time.

What my spiritual director noticed was that I remember who I really am when I'm on Camino. And when I do, people see me, feel me, trust me. They feel my love for them because I intentionally won't carry something that will hold me down.

I forget all the stony defenses so that I can remember who I am.

So that I can remember the Me of flesh and blood. The Me created in the image of God. The Me of spiritual craving and me of unending gratitude.

It's ironic, isn't it, that I remember most when I forget all that I've learned. That I had to learn to forget. That I have to learn that I must unlearn.

Perhaps that's why I started many of my camino days with this prayer attributed to Saint Francis. I should remember to say it every morning here at home... so that I can remember to forget.

Lord make me an instrument of your peace Where there is hatred let me sow love Where there is injury, pardon Where there is doubt, faith Where there is despair, hope Where there is darkness, light And where there is sadness, joy Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console to be understood as to understand To be loved as to love For it is in giving that we receive it is in pardoning that we are pardoned And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life Amen

Camino 2017-10-4 Where There Is Despair, Hope

On this Feast Day of Saint Francis, many share the prayer attributed to him. He remains one if not the most popular Saint, given his humility, piety, and endless love of animals and humanity. And he walked the Camino 803 years ago.

My day started with reading his prayer and ended with a Rosario and mass at the Padrón Church of Santiago, with prayers especially to celebrate the feast day. In between those moments, I kept the prayer as well as Saint Patrick's blessing in my heart.

I met up with Julz in Caldas de Reis and we walked the day together all the way to Padrón. We enjoyed lazy rivers, animals of all types, and stunning agricultural lands hugging the hills. We saw the forest as well as the trees, and we talked about it.

We discussed the problems of hearing but not listening, of viewing but not seeing, of touching but not feeling. As I pondered this later on while sitting alone and staring over the river, it occurred to me that the contradictions in Francis's prayer could help address the problems. We are hearing but we aren't listening because we don't let others speak to us. We do not see because we don't let others show themselves. And we don't feel because we don't let ourselves be touched.

I tripped a wire twice with Julz with my comments and questions. The first went by and nothing happened; I felt something could be said but wasn't. The second time, we shared tears again like yesterday. In the baptism of tears, we washed away the despair, and - it felt - invited hope.

We chatted with lovely Andre and Ana from Portugal during a snack break at a coffee shop. Ellen walked past and we set a dinner date in Santiago for tomorrow night. And we smiled at familiar faces that come and go at the different places people meet. It's fleeting and yet it's meaningful. 

I wrap up this penultimate walking day with a confession and the prayer. We are so easily focused on the hatred, injury, discord, error. On the doubt, despair, darkness, sadness. I go there like everyone else, and it doesn't feed me. It's a sin I work on by accepting that I'm not brought closer to God when I dawdle there. What feeds me is to console, to understand, and to love. Because it's not about me then. It's about gratitude for having first and second and third chances, and saying thank you in the only way I know how.

Walk with the one who feeds us, and live a life set free.

Prayer Attributed to Saint Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is discord, harmony;

Where there is error, truth;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that we may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are brought back to eternal life.