Mel's Healing Pilgrimage 2016

Links to the Camino de Santiago pilgrimages are on the navigation links to the right of the web page.


Showing posts with label stone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stone. Show all posts

Monday, March 26, 2018

Overpacking, Stones, and Strangers - The Camino to Easter

I walk out of the monastery in Sahagun, Spain in Sep 2014
and am awed by the sunset
As we enter Holy Week, after a season of loss, I realize that there are lessons from the Camino which are helping me walk the journey to the cross, with others, with Christ.

Travel lightly

So many of us are encumbered with things that hold us back, hold us down. We want to move easily, with comfort, and in peace. We know that we can save our backs and feet - and especially stay focused - when we don't have luggage that weighs us down.

And yet, we are our own worst enemies. We overpack in our lives. On the Camino de Santiago, this is most often because we want to bring everything in our backpacks. This instinct is almost always grounded in one thing: fear.

Fear of want.

Fear of not having something we feel is necessary.

Fear of hunger, of danger, of darkness.

And yet, a most important saying along the Camino is "The Camino Provides". Most travelers don't realize that there are food options everywhere you go. That we find pharmacies in every village. That we can find people who will share their water with us.

The Camino DOES provide... so long as we accept its generosity and the love. We have to forget about the uncertainty of fear in order to gain the certainty of love.

Release the Stones

Our packs like our lives are overloaded and, within a few days, you start seeing people leave things behind in the albergues. We have to release the materials items, these stones, that weigh us down and say goodbye to them. We let go so that we can flourish on our walks.

But it's not just about releasing a physical stone. It's also about letting go of the emotional stones that hold us down. Unlike the fear that drives us to overpack, the emotion that we can't unpack and leave behind is anger.

People on the camino, myself included, get frustrated by crowded cafes, by bicyclists who don't warn you of their approach, of cars that don't see you. In our exhaustion, we get angry that we have to change plans because there's no room at the albergue, or because blisters appear, or people smoke or talk too loudly, or take selfies, or drink too much. The litany of gripes can seem endless.

We may not have packed that anger in with us, but it's coming along for the walk. And we can't seem to let it go.

So we have to treat our frustration and anger like stones. We have to recognize the weight that they bring to our journey and trust that it's possible to release it. We must set the stone down. We can't walk with Christ, in love, with open eyes, when our hearts are filled with granite.

Embrace the Stranger

We may travel the Camino alone, or we may travel with friends. But around us at all times are strangers. People from other lands, speaking other languages, with different diets and customs. They're like you and me. And they're not.

They are like the Samaritans. Yes, go back far enough, and we're related, but today we're different. And they might be overpacked, with stones, with the same troubles as ourselves.

It's easy to walk past them and not realize what's going on in their lives. But my greatest memories along the Camino are when I didn't walk past the "other", but instead invited them into my space, my life, my journey. By sharing the pilgrimage of life together, we create a larger life, a larger sense of self, and a discovery of shared values.

Often times, it's that moment when we realize that we're overpacked that we also realize that we need the stranger to help us out. Together, you can pool information, resources, food, laughs, memories. The things we yearn to find on the Camino are unknown to us. They await to be learned and discovered, but for now those insights are strangers. And, we can't embrace the insights of the Camino if we can't embrace the stranger.



I hope that your journey through Lent brought you ever closer to Christ, to Easter, and the hope you seek to find and celebrate. And now, as we near the end of this 40 day walk, may your Holy Week remind you of the need to travel lightly, to set down your stones, and to embrace the stranger. May your Holy Week be anointed with grace.




Thursday, August 24, 2017

Accepting the creases

Sunrise moment of reflection at Alto de Poio, on my 2014 Camino.
I was thinking of the pains we cause each other and the way towards healing is often by taking the road of forgiveness.

It's not an easy map and sometimes it's easier to just carry that pain with you. Like the weight or stone that you carry on the Camino but leave behind at the Cruz de Ferro or any other place along the Camino. You must be ready to relinquish it and set it down, and lose that which burdens you.

It's a great image and it means much to me.
,.
But I'm learning that it's not enough.

A phrase came back to me this morning and it's a good reason why leaving the burden behind you isn't enough. You can't just leave a pain behind and forget it happened.

"You can crumple a piece of paper, but if you unwrap it, it still is covered in creases."

You can't just leave the burdens. You can't just say you forgave someone. If you want to use that piece of paper again, if you want to use your legs and back again after setting down that stone, you have to set down, to forgive, and to accept that things will never return to the way they were before.

Laying down the stone isn't about the stone. Straightening out a crumpled paper isn't about the rolled up wad in front of you. It's about what you wanted to do, couldn't do, and now are ready to do once again. And unless you accept that it will be different, you'll still be limping along.

That's why I walk for peace and reparation. I want to be reconciled, but more than reconciled. I want to be restored, but more than restored. I also want to be repaired. I want to be repaired, knowingly not to my original state, but to a state that gives me new maybe different functions and usefulness and beauty. Rebirth isn't about being born again in your current life. It's about something more, something different, something inspired.

On the walk, I pray for our rebirth as individuals, as a community, as a world where we set down our stones, accept the creases of our past, and see a path of lasting peace.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Learning & Re-learning. Re-tracing Your Footsteps

I've been re-reading and commenting on my blog postings written while walking along the Camino de Santiago in 2014. The blog postings are on this page and are also visible on the right sidebar of this web site.

I'm quite surprised at all that I was learning during that trip. Clearly, there was much to learn and absorb. There's a noticeable change in tone going from one challenge to the next. Most apparently in retrospect is the way my expectations and plans subvert and impede the movement of the Holy Spirit, as she moves me along the Camino.

And the lessons I learn and re-learn are similar to the re-tracing your footsteps on a trip. You want to think that once you've learned something, it's there, emblazoned upon your heart and mind, forever changing you. That's a wonderful aspiration and it's just not realistic. Like any journey or walk, you go astray. You wander. And you need to re-trace your footsteps to make sure you're on the right path once again.

During this review of blog posts, one day in particular - 18 months after it happened - made an impact on me. I'm referring to the post with the video I made re-creating my stop at the Cruz de Ferro.
The Cruz de Ferro is an enormous cross along the Camino. Many place objects of love at the base before continuing onward. Others like myself choose to leave a stone brought from back home. These stones are carried from hundreds or thousands of miles away in a pocket or in the backpack, representing the weight - emotional, spiritual, psychological - that holds us down, hurts us, breaks our backs. It might be a small pebble, but over the length of time and miles, we inevitably feel the pain of a boulder.

And we take this pebble and leave it at the foot of the cross. We leave it there for Christ, relieving our burden to the One who can bear it for us. It's a powerful metaphor that might be my favorite practice along the Camino Frances route to Santiago de Compostela.

I am truly wrecked re-reading that blog posting. I filmed via re-enactment a video that you can still watch. But what moves me is what I did. I admitted without any hesitation that the re-enactment was a sanitized moment of my personal act... where I could be strong, where I wouldn't be crying.

But I did cry. I sobbed, gasping for air. My stone represented the pain I carried from my divorce, and how I still felt it weighing upon me, even in re-marriage. It represented the poor choices I've made through my life, the impediments to healing, and the fears of intimacy.

I didn't film that intimate moment as it actually happened because I wanted to be seen more composed. Distilled. Strong.

I'll be frank here. This is singularly the area I'm most focused right now. I'm trying to stay "in the moment", always with a knowledge and acceptance of my authentic self. If I grow weak, if I mourn, if I cry out, if I fall to my knees in humility, I need to accept that this is ok. That there's no need for a mask. That I must be something more than I am. To be something other than myself is to reject the authentic self that theologians like Thomas Merton have described. That Christ wanted us to discover.

And any false self that we put forth only makes it harder for us to see, live with, and move towards the God of love.

I'm thinking that when I return on this Camino of Healing, I will again have a stone that I will have carried all the way from here. I will lay down the burdens of all who walk with me in that new stone. But there's something else I must do when I put down those burdens.

I'm bringing a stone from the Grand Canyon during a visit last month. I FELT and GRASPED that I was in a thin space, closer to a divine indescribable world that I imagine the Native Americans felt in that never-ending valley. I will place this sacred stone down for others...

And that something else I must do?... I will place it for me. For my weaknesses, for my pains, for my tears. Leave it out there in public for all to see. No masking. No re-creation. No false bravado.

For I do have fears when taking this journey. I'm noticing that I downplay my fears when talking with people. So here they are.

It's 600 miles from Lourdes to Santiago de Compostela. I can do the walking, as I walk long distances every week. Yet, I've got long-term health considerations that are genetic and of my own doing. I wonder if my hypertension will finally get to me. I wonder if, as I've read in news accounts, I will have a sugar level issue that exacerbates my borderline diabetes. I fear the rain, which along with my falls to the ground, brought on blisters. I fear the threat of bedbugs, even though I didn't see any. I fear heatstroke. I fear backaches. I fear being away from work. I fear being away from Stephen for a whole month until he meets me in Leon. I fear and yet I don't talk about those fears.

I will have walked 450 miles by the time I get to the Cruz de Ferro, carrying this stone, this rock that represents a bundle of anxiety that I knowingly and unknowingly carry with me.

And I'll leave that stone there, in the rain, in the sun, in the wind, in the dark, in the hail, in the public for all to see... There... at the foot of the cross.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Camino de Santiago - Cruz de Ferro (Preparing #6)

One of the most compelling stops on the Camino de Santiago for me will be the Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross). Travelers typically carry a stone or pebble from home on their journey. Upon arriving at the Cruz, they see a mound of pebbles with a large thin monument topped by a cross. The mound is made of all the pebbles and stones left behind by the thousands of travelers from all over the world through the ages. You can climb onto the mound and many travelers find the sight an important milestone indicating that they are within days of the Compostela de Santiago.

I find the symbolism of the stones both astonishing and powerful. Prior to the trip, peregrino travelers are instructed to reduce, Reduce, REDUCE the weight of their pack to make this arduous, long journey more tolerable. (Don't let your pack without water exceed 10% of your body weight! Egads, my work briefcase weighs more than 10% of my body weight.) And yet, they carry with them a rock along most of the route. Why on earth would you carry unneeded weight on such a journey?

To me and to the committed peregrino, the stone represents all the physical, mental, and even spiritual that weighs you down in life. And whether you realize it, acknowledge it, or deny it, that stone follows you on your journey. It follows you every day of your life. It's in your bags, in your head, in your heart.

Try as you might do otherwise, you begin any pilgrimage with unnecessary baggage. Emotional or spiritual, granite or mental, that baggage will slow you down. It's humbling to know of the stones in your life; it's bewildering and frustrating to not know the stones in your life.

The Roman Catholic Franciscan friar, Father Richard Rohr, describes this process as letting go.
“All great spirituality teaches about letting go of what you don’t need and who you are not. Then, when you can get little enough and naked enough and poor enough, you’ll find that the little place where you really are is ironically more than enough and is all that you need. At that place, you will have nothing to prove to anybody and nothing to protect.
That place is called freedom. It’s the freedom of the children of God. Such people can connect with everybody. They don’t feel the need to eliminate anybody . . .”
― Richard Rohr, Healing Our Violence through the Journey of Centering Prayer

I imagine seeing the cross and wincing. A growing understanding will strike my heart and I'll understand what I need to leave behind. Like the thousands of pilgrims, I'll leave the weight at the cross, asking our Lord to carry my burden for me.

Will I be alone or walking with newly made friends? I won't know for another month. But when the time comes, I'm sure I'll learn much about that which hampers our personal progress.

The stone I shall be bringing with me on the Camino de Santiago


I ask my friends to use me and my rock as their stone. Let me leave our collective impediments to growth and happiness beside the road, at the foot of the cross. I'll pray for all who wish to share their burdens and place a stone down for us all.



Thank you and bless you for joining me on this transformational journey.

I leave Los Angeles on September 10 and land in Spain September 11.



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Prior blog postings regarding the the Camino
Camino de Santiago - Introduction (Preparing #1)