Camino 2016 05/16 - Healing and sickness

How fitting. I've come for a Healing pilgrimage. I take a big jet to cross the ocean, then the TGV bullet train down to Lourdes from Paris, and for the past 2 days have slowly fallen into a fever, drippy nose, coughing, and other symptoms that scare me when I consider taking a backpack and walking 23 miles tomorrow.

I got my Year of Mercy "passport" and especially dear, my Camino passport, marked from the Basilica, to show that my Camino begins here. It scared me deeply because I felt so weak and sickly. 

I marched up after a 5pm Adoration service to the top of the Chemin de la Croix, the Way of the Cross. The stations are laid out over a 1.5km hike up a steep hill. One asked that you approach Christ (at the top of many stairs) humbly on your hands and knees.

Given my illness, this was quite challenging. And when I reached the top of the dozens of stairs, I wept for those who could not do this trip, this hill, this station. And I prayed, like everyone else here, for healing, strength, and courage to do what I can.

The humility came on strong after dinner, after a nap. I went to the candle procession where thousands march in on wheelchairs and crutches and their loved ones. And I knew I marched with them, as I walk with them. I feel the sense of shared struggle and tiredness. 

A touching moment came soon after the procession. I was walking to the giant votive candles and a volunteer as old as my Dad started to speak to me in German. I don't speak German so I didn't understand. He pointed to my Camino emblem on my shirt and asked "peregrino"? Since I didn't speak German, I grasped at a way to communicate: "Dah , Miercoles, Voy a Santiago après ici" (how sadly multilingual is that?). Then he smiled, pointed to himself, indicating he once did it too. The he put his forehead next to mine and gave me a blessing. I thanked him and he patted me off with a "Buen Camino".

I don't know if it was the fever, but I was an emotional wreck. 

I thank you God for showing me that the way of healing is not through arrogance but through humility, reconciliation, and common humanity. I thank you God I thank you God.

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The Wholeness Camino

On Sunday, Rev. Ed Bacon at All Saints Pasadena gave his valedictory Easter sermon, as he prepares next month to retire from our church and move closer to his family in the South. Before getting into the meat of his moving words, we already were prepared to deal with emotions of his impending departure.

Helping each other walk up the Camino towards O'Cebreiro Spain (September 2014)

And yet even with that preparation, he still rocked me. During that sermon, he brought up something that he's mentioned before: the word "healing" and "whole" come from the same root word in English. He gave examples of how one cannot move towards healing and new life, without moving towards wholeness. And one cannot move towards wholeness without healing.

I've been pondering why I was moved and it occurred to me that as my Camino pilgrimage approaches, I've been inadequate in describing the healing component of this walk. I've called it "My Healing Pilgrimage". I describe how during my first Camino de Santiago walk, I was in a deeply self-reflective, discerning mood. I just turned 50, just married, just committed to staying in bunk beds night after night for the first time in decades. And I was wondering my place in the world and what the Holy Spirit was guiding me to do.

So in describing this Healing pilgrimage, I talk about all the people I met who somehow felt the need - somewhere in their lives - for healing. So I wanted this walk to be about them instead of me. I came up with the idea of starting in Lourdes, France (adding an extra 100 miles or so) so that I could bring holy healing waters from the River Pau with me. I wanted to share the waters that Saint Bernadette drank, the waters that have been repeatedly described as miraculous and healing. I would bring and share the waters with those who believed, wanted healing, and welcomed the water.

And that's where I've realized I've been remiss.

I can't heal without working towards healing myself.

I can't help people find wholeness without seeking wholeness as well.

It's not that I did not feel this way. It's a matter of emphasis. It's a matter of intentionality. I just don't mention it enough.

I'm intending to land in Paris on May 13 and head immediately to Chartres. On Fridays, the labyrinth is available for us to walk. There isn't a better metaphor for a pilgrimage, to me, than the labyrinth and starting my journey on that cathedral floor will immediately frame my mind.

On Saturday May 14, I will spend the day in Giverny, where Monet lived and painted his countless waterlilies. Monet is renowned for his use of light to portray nature in all her glory. I will take the train to the nearest town and walk over an hour each way to his home. The house is now a museum but visitors can walk parts of the garden around the pond.

Why Giverny? Many people like me find calm and the healing love of God when looking at art. His waterlilies and gardens have for decades stilled my busy mind. Visiting Chartres and Giverny will, I hope, reset my pace and heart and soul for this pilgrimage.

On Sunday, I will visit the American Cathedral in Paris, the seat of the European diocese of the Episcopal Church. I'll wrap up the day at the Cathedral de Notre Dame. In between, I hope to visit the Père Lachaise cemetery and the Catacombs of Paris. Strange itinerary? Perhaps. What I hope to do is first of all start of my pilgrimage with traditional church services. I include the cemetery and catacombs in between these two liturgical services in order to remind myself of life's one certainty. Death of these mortal bodies is inevitable. Any amount of pilgrimage and healing is meant for the living. We are mandated by Christ to love each other while we still have each other. Death will inevitably bring our earthly journeys to a close so it's imperative that we, while remembering this, make every moment worthy of cherishing.

And then...

I head to Lourdes. I head to Lourdes not to just grab a bottle of waters from the stream.

I spend a couple of nights in Lourdes so that I start my pilgrimage with deep, personal healing. The journey must begin in community with others in need of healing, knowing that we are all there with the same aspirations and dreams and love and hope. Whether it's during the evening vigils, the morning vigils, or traditional services, I will be bathing in the waters of life that heal. And I will immerse myself literally in the waters that heal, in the formal baptistry area and in the stream.

The road to a healing camino can't be done any other way. I can share healing love and living water only as I am taking in that healing love and living water. It's in those relationships, with each other and with God, that find wholeness. It's in those relationships that we can bring wholeness. And, in the humility of seeking healing, we may be able to share healing with others.

So I apologize if I wasn't clear before. This healing pilgrimage is for me as well as for those I love and meet. This pilgrimage is for us.

May your camino and my camino intertwine on the road to wholeness and healing.

Walking through the Valley of Death - A Lenten Meditation

I felt called to walk, take a detour back from my parents' home near Las Vegas towards my home in Los Angeles county. Instead of the direct route, I drove through and hiked around in Death Valley.

Normally, Death Valley is a vast expanse of desolation. The name is appropriate. The lowest point in the US can be found in Death Valley, in a spot aptly called Badwater. There, the ground is so parched that the runoff water flows in loaded with minerals and evaporates into an expanse of almost pure salt. It looks like snow.  And unlike snow, it doesn't quench or nourish. It might trick you into thinking so, but it does quite the opposite.

The salt poisons and dries you out even further.

We humans have used salts for thousands of years to preserve foods and as part of our burial functions. It flavors our food, but its functional usefulness has mostly been for keeping dead things in a useful state of prolonged death. Yet, it's not about preserving life. Nor is it about expediting death. It's about making the process of death interminably prolonged and unnatural.

I pondered these thoughts during my sojourn because my dear friend Carol was in the Intensive Care Unit here in Los Angeles County. Her health had been deteriorating and many of her functions were grinding to a halt. In fact, while I was away in Vegas, she lost consciousness and had been sleeping for several days.

I normally take this detour once a year because in February, the flowers bloom in the desert. You see, it doesn't rain often in Southern California, much less in the deserts. So when winter rains come, it's an ideal time to head to the drylands and marinate in the glorious flowers that bloom ever so briefly in the wasteland.

For you see, Death Valley isn't actually dead. It's in a state of suspended animation. Like a body preserved in salt, it's in between that place of the living and the dead.

And this year, I was in for a treat. I didn't know it, but I was stepping into what is known as a Superbloom. Even though El Nino hasn't been as powerful in Southern California as expected, there were still greater rains than we've experienced in years. And, the melting snow runoff from the Sierra Nevada mountains help contribute to the meager waters of Death Valley.

So the flowers had not only returned, they were raging. Exploding. Shimmering. Blossoms spanned from the walls of the mountain cliffs to the very edge of the deadly salt basins. Yellow Evening Primrose flowers 1-3 feet in height made it look more like a field in France than a desert mortuary.

And in between the yellow flowers, there were delicate 6 inch tall purple Phacelias flowers. They hid carefully, almost shyly, under the larger, extroverted yellows. And quietly in between the purples, there were white flowers even more bashful than their purple sisters.

Then you kneel on the ground. You sit on the edge of a ravine to soak in nature. You bend over to take a photo. And you realize, there, in plain sight but not visible from normal human eye levels, were lovely delicate purple pink flowers known as purple mat.

The purple mat was everywhere and yet when you weren't looking, you could have passed by not noticing the vibrant life. You could have assumed that life stood still. Even while you're noticing the raging yellow primrose, you don't notice that there's so much more alive, so much more life, than meets the eye.

And, if you're lucky enough, brave enough, patient enough, you can stay into the night. This happened to be a full moon drive to start this trip so I got to see the desert in a peculiar moonlit coloration. If you get out of your car, walk a little, sit a little, you'll hear the sounds of animals scurrying around on the rocks and sand.

They hide during the painfully hot days and come out in the evening. Even in the winter, when it's necessary for the reptiles to come out and absorb some of the sun's warmth, they do most of their foraging or hunting at night.

Life rages on in the desert.

I visited Carol the day after my hikes and chatted with her husband. They're such a loving couple. Though she was still not conscious, I prayed with them, shared some healing waters I brought back from Lourdes, France, and shared in their pain. I missed my good friend Michael, Carol's cousin, as I left just before he got there.

And on Friday, during some meetings, I wept, when I heard that Carol's condition was taking a turn for the worst.

And yesterday, the family took her off life support.

And today, she moved on.

Carol always tells me that she loves watching my travel on Facebook. She and Jeff get to live out exciting trips vicariously whenever their families and friends post photos and thoughts online. She seems particularly excited during dinners together to discuss the trips as well.

I have no doubt that when I walked through Death Valley, I was walking among the flowers with Carol. That I was gazing in awe at the same moon. That we prayed for the same love eternal.

I have no doubt that Carol's organ donations will bring life anew to others in ways we can only imagine. Her eyes evidently will be a gift to someone shortly. Her sight, her vision, her way of seeing life in the stony rock wall.

I have no doubt that I was gazing at life made new in Death Valley. That life is there even when it looks like the land is barren. Here you stand in the middle of a salty wasteland as far as you can see, and yet on the edge of that wasteland, life encroaches, approaches, ventures to its very edge.

It's the tears falling from skies and from our hearts that waters the gritty sand, bringing those long forgotten seeds just enough love and attention to bring a torrent of life's energy anew.

And after the blooms fade, after the glories fall petal by petal back down to the earth, new seeds are strewn into the wind. We can't see them, but they're spreading, waiting for another opportunity to spring alive once again.

The salt may keep life in a state of prolonged preservation, in a condition of suspended animation. It's not death. It's not life.

But life ever beautiful, ever delicate, ever bold, ever precious, can lie beside the salty ground waiting to return.

Thank you for walking with me on every one of my journeys, Carol and for
calling me to see the lovely reminder to be loving, hopeful, and alive.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Blessings over Fear

A visit to Lourdes - Sep 2015

I took my parents on a trip to Spain (and France, Portugal, and Andorra) last month. It's the third time I've taken them to Europe. Each time has been one where I gave a gift out of love and gratitude. They paid for my study abroad back when I was an undergraduate. We didn't have much and certainly this just added to their debts at the time.

My time at Oxford was transformative. It was as though my eyes were opened to beauty and possibilities I hadn't expected. True the food was terrible beyond the pale. I exaggerate not. I didn't know vegetables could be boiled so thoroughly that they could look whiter than beyond pale. But the museums, art, people, and opportunity to experience a different culture affected me deeply and I cherish what I learned and continue to learn on every trip I take to this day.

So I thank them with these trips. This one was their first trip to Spain, a particularly meaningful one because our ancestors came to the Philippines from Spain.

I blog this because as with any time you put parents and with their post-adolescent children together, you have an opportunity for conflict. Much as I try to be a caring child, it's human nature to have disagreements with someone who raised you with firm advice. Much as I cherished the time and valued the blessings and opportunity to spend three weeks with my parents, there were moments when I felt as though I were 14 years old again. I'm sure I was a pill then and I definitely could be tough to swallow when I'm petulant or angry now.

The feelings are worsened when mortality is brought into the mix. None of us live forever. Much as I want my parents to be around, I know at some point I must say goodbye to them. Or, far worse, they have to say goodbye to me. Statistically and from family health history, there's much to make me feel that I need to gird myself for the inevitable. Hence, the trip was a great way to learn more about ourselves and to share in our time.

But I said that's how feelings are made worse. I for one may intellectually accept what will some day come, but emotionally it's not easy. And whenever I saw evidence that my parents were slowing down, or not are more forgetful than in the past, or are ignoring dietary proscriptions by their physicians, I experience the role reversal that often accompanies caring for aging parents. I heard myself scolding for bad eating and getting frustrated by forgetfulness. I've learned to accept the physical slowing down, but then get overly cautious when we aren't slowing down enough.

My mom is the most formidable woman I know. Whenever we moved, she started with entry level jobs yet always rose to be a leader. She finally retired as the Executive Director of the non-education parts of Stanford and Cal State LA. Dad started his professional career as an attorney and became a banker. Even after he retired, and returned to work as a part time teller to keep stave off boredom, he sometimes sold more new accounts than full time staff, winning trips for his successes. And yet he's still strong in his 80s, wanting to carry luggage when I could be doing so for him. Both of them worked all their lives, 2-3 jobs each, just to get us our education here in the USA.

So it bothers me to watch them slow down from the peaks of their careers. And I didn't understand why I was frustrated and angry during the first week of the trip. It took that week to realize that I was getting angry because I was masking my real feelings.

I was frightened.

Fearful of the signs of aging they were showing.

Afraid of someday saying goodbye to them.

And like most men, I resist fear and transform it into other emotions. The fear became anger and frustration.

Once I realized what I was doing, it became easier to accept my feelings. I was, after all, on this trip to enjoy my time with them and share with them the land of our ancestors. What I feared can not be avoided. So stories were told, memories shared, and we were able to experience a trip with the power of healing and transformation that we all wanted to have.

I watched Mom and Dad at Lourdes. They watched others in wheelchairs, on crutches, in arms of others as they processed into several masses for blessings. They did not want to be among those who seemed more needy, as if their needs were any less than the next person. But I understood. They've always deferred to those more needy and this was no different.

I waded into the stream of Lourdes and let my fears flow out of me into the waters. Some view blessing as the transmittal of a prayer or God's grace to someone. But on that day, on this trip, I realized that to be filled with grace and love, I needed to make room in my soul for that love.

The fear had to be released.

An opening needed to be created.

My mind and heart had to wade into the thin space.

And in the darkened void I created but feared, from that willful purgation into the stream at Lourdes, I made room for grace. I stepped out of myself and found fresh air. And with my parents on this trip, I felt the blessing come into me.

Preparing for the Camino de Santiago in 2016

Credentials from my 2014 Camino de Santiago pilgrimage

Once again, I'll be walking the Camino de Santiago, leaving Los Angeles on May 12, 2016.

Rather than starting in the traditional city of St Jean Pied-de-Port, France and following the Camino Frances, I will start in Lourdes, France. This small city sits at the foot of the French Pyrenees mountains. Starting there will add an additional 130 km (81 miles) or so, depending on the route I decide to take, on top of the typical 800 km (500 miles). Based on past experience, I will likely walk another 100 miles just wandering the villages sight-seeing churches and landmarks.

Why start in Lourdes?

My 2014 camino pilgrimage was pretty much about me. It was an opportunity to discover myself, to pursue some discernment about vocation, to explore my purpose. The pilgrimage was also an appropriate way for me personally to celebrate my 50th birthday year.

And as you may have read from my blog postings from the 2014 journey, I noticed that numerous people needed to be with other people, needed to share their lives and pains and joys, needed to find healing. It touched me that they would share this with me. I found it amazing that I could minister to their needs and offer an ear, a heart, a touch that could provide solace or healing. My 2014 blog postings are on the right side navigation: Preparing for the Camino de Santiago 2014 and my posts during and after at Camino de Santiago 2014.

So I'll start in Lourdes, France. Lourdes has been known for two centuries as a pilgrimage site of healing. Millions of people every year head to Lourdes to be blessed. By touching, tasting, and washing with the waters of that community, the pilgrims seek to move from a place of illness and hurt to one of reconciliation and well-being.

I will start out with my own efforts to find healing. As the phrase goes, "physician heal thyself". First, I want to have a couple days of reflection, self-care, and attention to physical and spiritual health. Then, taking some of the healing water with me in a container, I will carry the blessed waters from the Lourdes grotto and take it on the camino with me.

And all who wish to be anointed with the holy water, to be blessed in prayer, are welcome to that water. I will share the blessings with all who seek it, and pray that they be healed.

I've confided to some that my 2016 camino will be all about others. I amend and correct myself publicly now. One can never take a pilgrimage for others. One takes a pilgrimage for themselves. But, my camino will be a shared camino. In sharing the holy water, in sharing the healing, in allowing myself to be in communion with others, I will find myself fed and nourished, and share in the bountiful grace of God. That's my camino in 2016. That's why I will start in Lourdes.

---

I may be walking with friends from church along this trip. If schedules work out, I'll be meeting some at St. Jean-Pied-de-Port. Others might be joining us in other cities and villages. Because of this, I will walk on average 25 km (15 miles) each day instead of my normal 35-40 km (22-25 miles) . This is related to making my journey a part of others' lives and not about my own. My husband Stephen, after school lets out and he goes on his annual teaching vacation, will fly out and join me in Leon - a 300 km (200 mile) pilgrimage.

In the meantime, my camino walk continues. I'm rather surprised at my attraction to walking now. I used to walk around downtown Pasadena. Instead of driving to various places or to church, I would just walk. Now, I work from home. That actually began the month before my 2014 pilgrimage. And surprisingly, I walk everywhere now. I've walked to family gatherings in Glendora almost 40 km away.

It started gradually, with about 5-7 mile walks every other day. Now I find myself walking to downtown Pasadena from home, an almost 10 mile round trip, several times a week. Rather than driving to lunch, I just walk. As of this posting, I've walked 1360 miles since New Year's Day, about the distance from New York City past University of Nebraska in Lincoln. I don't even notice the physical part any more. It's part of my journey in mind, body, and spirit. I'm seeking more time away from busy interpersonal interactions to have time with myself, time to ponder and free associate, time to reflect and pray.

(Note: For 2015, I ended up walking 2100 miles. That's the distance from NY to Salt Lake City... Los Angeles to Pensecola Florida... Chicago to Mexico City... Manchester England to Istanbul Turkey...)

I hope you join me, online or even along the Camino Frances, walking beside me as I journey towards my journey of healing.

Walking for me, Walking for others

You may have heard that I walked the Camino de Santiago in 2014. If you read my blog series on that pilgrimage, you're well aware of what went through my head and heart. If not here are the two main links:
   Before the Camino
   During and after the Camino

It amazes me how much the Camino changed my perceptions. Perhaps that's not correct. I think inside I knew what should and could arise from this pilgrimage. No, what's amazing is that in spite of all that I knew and perceived, my focus was all around one being.

Me.

My journey in faith.

My spiritual direction.

My own Camino.

And what I discovered, especially as I re-read my blog postings, was that what was changing was not necessarily my perceptions, but my focus. By focusing so much on me, I so lost sight of many of the things that truly make for a grace-filled world. The low point and high point of the refocusing pivoted on one night, as I describe in the blog entry Preconceived Notions and Judgement . As I mentioned there, I was up half the night, shocked that my self-focused walk almost blocked the Holy Spirit from working both within me and within others. On my camino, I was twisting in my path.

So the lessons revolved around the focus, not on what I knew. I know that religion is about our inter-connectedness, our relationships, other love with others on this earth. My spiritual focus was on me, which obscured the eternal truths. So, this next walk will not focus on me. It will be on

Us.

Our journeys in faith.

Our spiritual directions.

Our own caminos.

Now, with All Saints Pasadena friends Matthew Rhodes and Michelle Johnston, I'm planning on returning to the Camino in 2016 May-June. And many, many more are coming, though they will start at different places. Matthew and MJ will start at Saint Jean Pied-de-Port on the French border, the typical starting spot for the 500 mile journey. Stephen will likely start in Astorga. Others in Burgos, where I started my journey in 2014. And I'll continue to Finisterre, on foot this time.

This time, in 2016, I won't be starting in Spain. I'll be starting in Lourdes, France.

The Virgin Mary made over a dozen appearances to the village starting in 1858. The Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes is a place of mass pilgrimage. The spring water from the grotto is believed by some to possess healing properties. This pilgrimage site of healing receives millions of visitors every year.

I will begin my pilgrimage on the Camino here. I will seek healing in communion with others. Then, with oils and waters from this site, I will begin my Camino walk towards Saint Jean Pied-de-Port and onwards to Santiago de Compostella. Most importantly, I will share the water and oil with those who wish to share in a healing moment.

So it won't be about me this time. It will be about sitting with others and praying together for healing and love. I'll be praying with and for everyone I meet. I hope I stay in the moment and present with all I encounter. And, with a grace-filled heart, my focus won't need adjusting this time.