In the Wounds of Manzanar

I'm feeling something today. I was on a pilgrimage to the Manzanar National Historic Site with folks from church and the diocese to remember all the Japanese American families that were forced to sell their possessions and move into internment camps. Up to 120,000 men, women, and children were imprisoned for up to 4 years for no other reason than they had at least one great great grandparent who was born in Japan.

I walked around feeling such tremendous sadness and outrage. I couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to have dust blowing into the barracks relentlessly. Or having no privacy in the bedrooms or in the bathrooms. These folks weren't soldiers. These folks weren't convicted of any crime. They were just feared not for what they did but for what they looked like.

I kept thinking about what it must have felt like for them all. How do you forgive and reconcile with people who are oppressing you? Where's the grace? Where was God?

So I kept searching. Seeking. I couldn't believe that God could be here.

And then we stumbled upon an artificial pond, made of stones and cement. It had two wings, sort of like angel wings, with a bridge crossing over. On one side was a rudimentary, primitive stone lantern made of rocks from the area. Lovingly, the lantern lined up with the bridge, which lined up with a path that went off towards a mountain. And the lantern was built to look like that mountain.

The soil was hard. Hard as the hearts of the government and soldiers who imprisoned all these innocent people. Flinty as the people who turned their backs to the plight of the "evacuees" who were collected and concentrated in these camps. Dry as the faces that could no longer cry as their families were torn apart.

And in these wounded grounds, the people built gardens, and ponds, and serene spaces filled with sacred quiet. In these painful voids, they found God, unearthed beauty, raised up life-affirming inspiration. And I sensed what it felt like to have the the Holy Spirit comfort and inspire you. And I sensed what it felt like to believe that there was hope.

This wrapped around me as I contemplated the Gospel reading for this Sunday. We read once again the story of Thomas, aka Doubting Thomas, and his transition from doubt to belief.

Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:24-29

On the long bus ride back, I pondered the scripture from a different perspective. I thought, what if the wound that Thomas explored wasn't just in Christ? What if he was exploring the wounds in himself? In his side, in his hands, in his heart? What if Christ wanted us to touch our own wounds as well as his? That in touching all these wounds, we can believe in God?

And in doing so, in feeling those wounds, in reaching our hands into the places that we protect from painful touch, in caressing these sacred places, we can believe that Christ is present. We can believe in his miracles. We can believe that our inspiration for healing, our Christ, showed us the path into our bodies so that we can find our own healing. Our own miracles. In exploring the wound, we can remember what our bodies are made of, what we are made in the image of, what we need to be made whole.

And with that thought, I remembered the pond. That in this wounded place, someone touched the ground and created a place for healing waters to flow. And with the water flowing into the pond, inviting even more life - birds, squirrels, rabbits - to come, rest, and heal.

We don't have to demand to see the wounds. They're all around us. Sometimes the wounds are wildly painful like at Manzanar. Sometimes they are wounds that only we know. May we touch these wounds - invited by Christ to see that they are real, invited to believe in his healing presence - and discover the grace of God in the most unexpected places.

The Pilgrim and the Tourist

Two things this month have caused me to write this. The first is the disaster at Notre Dame. I've touched upon that in my prior post "Sacred Spaces".

This Saturday, I'm helping out a diocesan group - "The Gathering: A Space for Asian-American Spirituality" - and All Saints Pasadena's Transformational Journeys as we head out to Manzanar National Historic Site. Manzanar is located in a desolate area of California, in the Owens Valley, about 230 miles from Los Angeles. And, it was one of 10 internment camps in the USA, where upwards of 120,000 people of even 1/16 Japanese blood were sent. The definitions of internment camp and concentration camp were historically identical until the Nazis horrific acts caused concentration camp to be linked with extermination camps.

As I prepare for this pilgrimage, and it's a special one as this will be the 50th anniversary of annual pilgrimages to Manzanar, I was asked to share a reflection with the group. The topic is one that I've pondered often, the difference between a pilgrim and a tourist. We are heading to Manzanar as pilgrims. I've done many pilgrimages. I've been a tourist many times. And they aren't the same thing.

Julz of Australia from my 2017 Camino Portuguese
reflects on our long walk. We broke bread many times
on this pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, with
lots of laughter, tears, and stories. Even our swim
to waterfalls on the walk here felt holy

Oh, I take photos on both. I laugh, share stories, linger, purchase trinkets and memorabilia, meet strangers, take selfies on both types of journeys. I sometimes have to grab a group or bus or listen to guides because I need the experienced person to explain what I'm seeing.

But they are different. And - I am adamant about this - it's not a judgment to be one or the other. A pilgrim is not better than a tourist nor the tourist better than the pilgrim. I distinguish the two because it helps us to know how to approach a destination. Whether we go to a cathedral or to a secular spot, we can approach it with a better understanding of what to find and what to anticipate. On a visit to a new city, I can be a pilgrim at one or two locations and a tourist at all the others.

Here are some ways that the two differ to me.

	Pilgrim	Tourist
Focus	The destination	Yourself at the destination
Expectation	To be changed by the visit	To see sights and learn from the visit
Common Activities	Sit and absorb, perhaps skipping some of the popular or common sights to see, not making a long checklist	Take the various sub-tours, read all the posters and signs, make sure to hit the checklist of activities and things to see
Preparation	Read about the facts and stories	Read about the facts and stories
Change	You want to be changed or to know yourself better	Change isn't an issue
Visiting the World Trade Center	You had a relative or friend who died there on 9/11 and are grappling with issues about life	You want to pay your respects
Visiting the Vatican	You're a Roman Catholic. You want to confess, go to mass (often), pray.	A huge basilica, a square, history, spectacular art,and Swiss Army guards
Visiting the Golden Temple in India	You're Sikh. You want to pray and help feed the 50,000 people who eat there daily.	You want to see the temple and watch the 50,000 people who get fed there daily
Visiting the Louvre	Get a pass and go multiple days because art is in your blood and this place is everything	Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo, Law Code of Hammurabi, Gabrielle d’Estrées and Her Sister
Visiting the Grand Canyon	You care deeply about water and land conservation, Native American culture, natural beauty, creation	You care deeply about natural beauty and hiking
Your local place of worship	You want to be transformed, pray, give thanks, be willing to be uncomfortable.	You want to meet your obligations, hear good music, raise your kids right, be comfortable
When you return	You know yourself or life better	You are the same, perhaps better informed
Schedule	Schedule isn't as important as time to process and internalize what is seen	Schedule is important to see/do as much as possible
Sacred land	The site is sacred and is respected	The site is respected
Result	Transformation	Information
Passing through	The destination passes through you	You pass through the destination
Not quite what you imagined? Construction?	Not a distraction	Disappointment

Let's take an example using that well known phrase "It's not the destination; it's the journey". When you're a pilgrim, the destination does matter. You're going to a place that holds deep meaning to you and you want to be transformed by it. The preparation for it is important because you want to be ready for transformation. When you're a tourist, you look forward to the destination because it's something you've wanted to see and learn about; you prepare because you want to make sure you see everything you wanted to see and not find yourself disappointed if you miss something.

Lately, I accept that I enjoy my tourist visits to places AND that much of my life has been a pilgrimage. I may forget that it is, but I remember that it is a pilgrimage much more often than before. I will always be a tourist to new places. But I am rarely surprised when I find myself transformed by certain journeys.

The pilgrim accepts blessings for their journey because there's some fear there. Will your heart be open to transformation? Will you be afraid of what the changes are asking of you? Will you accept the ramifications of change?

With that, allow me to again share "For a Traveler" by Father John O'Donohue.

Every time you leave home, Another road takes you Into a world you were never in. New strangers on other paths await. New places that have never seen you Will startle a little at your entry. Old places that know you well Will pretend nothing Changed since your last visit. When you travel, you find yourself Alone in a different way, More attentive now To the self you bring along, Your more subtle eye watching You abroad; and how what meets you Touches that part of the heart That lies low at home: How you unexpectedly attune To the timbre in some voice, Opening in conversation You want to take in To where your longing Has pressed hard enough Inward, on some unsaid dark, To create a crystal of insight You could not have known You needed To illuminate Your way. When you travel, A new silence Goes with you, And if you listen, You will hear What your heart would Love to say. A journey can become a sacred thing: Make sure, before you go, To take the time To bless your going forth, To free your heart of ballast So that the compass of your soul Might direct you toward The territories of spirit Where you will discover More of your hidden life, And the urgencies That deserve to claim you. May you travel in an awakened way, Gathered wisely into your inner ground; That you may not waste the invitations Which wait along the way to transform you. May you travel safely, arrive refreshed, And live your time away to its fullest; Return home more enriched, and free To balance the gift of days which call you.

Sermon: Changing Directions

On March 24, 2019 I offered my first homily, at Westminster Gardens Retirement community’s Vespers service in Duarte, California. Below, you can find the scripture reading, the text of the homily, and an amateur video recording of the service.

I am awed by the way the Holy Spirit put words in my heart to share. The congregation was delightful and once the service began, I felt so... at peace. It felt like I had been doing this my whole life. I'll be forever grateful for Virginia and Edie's invitation to preach there.

Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.”  Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’ “ ‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’ ” Luke‬ ‭13:1-9‬ ‭NIV

Good evening. My name is Melvin Soriano. Thank you so much the invitation to join you tonight. I’m a member of All Saints Episcopal in Pasadena and I bring communion to some of the residents here where we meet at Edie Hovey's home for fellowship every month. I’m grateful that I can share my heart and my thoughts with you, especially during this season of Lent as we journey towards Easter.

Lent is modeled on the 40 days that Jesus spent in the desert. It’s a time when we can look at ourselves, our spirituality, and the temptations in our lives that can lead us astray. For many people, it is a time to give up something, like chocolate or candy. I tend to give up things that act like chocolate or candy in my life, things that might feel good superficially but aren’t really nutritious. Sometimes instead of being sweet, the candy in our lives can be like stones; they’re don’t really bring you joy. You carry around what you think is sweet but you are actually carrying a stone: a stone in our shoe, in our pocket, in our hearts.

Like all stones, they weigh us down, they give us blisters. Lent gives us a chance to pause, stop, look inside our shoes, inside our pockets, inside our hearts and see if we’re carrying any of these stones with us. And we’re invited to downsize our lives, to put those stones down.

Let me share a story with you. I have walked the Camino de Santiago in Spain several times. That's a 1000 year old pilgrimage where people walk hundreds of miles from their homes to Santiago de Compostela Spain. Even St Francis of Assisi did it 800 years ago. You carry a backpack and follow arrows on the road, on the sides of buildings, and on signs to guide you through villages, forests, farms, and cities.

One of the customs of the pilgrimage is to carry a small stone with you across all those miles. When you’re trying to keep the weight of your backpack down, even a small pebble starts to feel like a boulder. I wrote my sorrows, regrets, broken relationships, and tearful memories on that stone and carried it hundreds of miles. Finally, at the foot of a large cross along the trail, I lay that stone down and asked that all the regrets and sorrows that I carried with me with every step be put down as well. In truth, we don’t do this just once because our lives go on, and we eventually find new stones in our shoes. So, we have to regularly look into our shoes and pockets to empty them out. We can do this every day, or every Sunday. We can also do a major spring cleaning during Lent.

Today’s scripture is all about putting down the stones in our lives. We are told to repent or we will all perish. Most people don’t like to talk about repentance. Most often, I see the word repent when I go to a sporting event or to the Rose parade and I see people holding up home-made signs that demand that we repent or burn. It's a shame that many react negatively to these signs, because the idea behind repentance isn't about shaming or accusing.

Jesus is pointing out at the very beginning of this reading that bad things can happen to anyone at any time. Accidents happen; death happens. But he’s not saying that it happens to people because we sin. He says twice, “I tell you No.” Bad things happen all the time, but Jesus zeros in on whether we repent. You can get sick, break a hip, have towers fall on top of you. Jesus says no, victims are not worse sinners.

Now we sometimes judge. When we see bad things happen to someone, we’re pretty quick to judge that maybe they did something bad. Maybe someone got into an accident because they like to go out late at night. Or maybe someone got sick because they smoked and drank for years. And you know who we judge the harshest sometimes? Ourselves. Our bodies. Our looks. Our families. Our lives. But Jesus here says “No.” We should not judge anyone, much less for things that can’t be controlled. In this passage he’s saying that what matters is that we repent.

I think that too many people fear the word repent. It’s been turned in its meaning to control our behavior, to make us feel shame, to make us do what other humans – not God, not Jesus – what other people want us to do.

The original scripture doesn’t use our modern word repent. Instead, the original Greek uses the word metanoia. Metanoia means something more like change of mind, re-orientation, reformation. It’s not at all filled with judgment but a simple reality check. You just need to change directions. It's like the mobile phone apps that give directions. It’s not judging you because you’re lost. It’s just saying, “You’ve wandered off course.” When Jesus talks about us repenting, he's not trying to make a threat. He’s making an observation.

Jesus is just pointing out, in a spirit of compassion and love, that we may be lost, whether we recognize it or not. I’m sure you’ve sat in a car wondering where am I? You could be lost but you’re not sure. In our pride, we often just keep going on, unwilling to pull over. God forbid we stop and ask for directions.

We’re told by Jesus that the consequence of not changing directions is perishing. We tend to think of perishing as a synonym for death. But the original Greek scripture has another definition, which English also has. Perishing can also mean lost, as in a hundred lives were lost. This definition is about being missing, missing from us, missing from God. It's actually the same word that's used when Jesus talks about the lost sheep. He is the shepherd to the lost. This scripture reading is saying that we don't have to be like lost sheep. We can recognize that we’re lost, and let the shepherd guide us home.

Let me share another story from the Camino. I met another pilgrim, a woman in a small village. We began to walk together and learn about each other. Susan was from Georgia, in her 40s, had lost her job, and decided to walk this pilgrimage to find meaning in her life. We were having a great walk together when silence fell upon us. We realized that we hadn't seen a sign in quite a while. We were in a field somewhere in Spain, lost. We began to search. We had to backtrack. About 45 minutes later, we got to a fork in the road and realized we followed the main path but that the arrows pointed in a different direction, towards a smaller, less obvious trail. We were able to right ourselves and continue walking with the other pilgrims.

Susan and I got along so well. We were happily chatting away and didn't feel lost at all. But we had lost sight of the signs that were guiding us. We got so caught up in making a new friend on the pilgrimage that we had followed a popular, well-used path, but that path that wasn't meant for us. This wasn’t the first time I’ve had to change paths; it certainly wasn’t the last. I’m trying to change paths every day when I can remember.

The scripture reading ends with a short parable that Jesus told to give us hope. We have a tree that seemed destined to be taken down. The owner wants to remove it but instead, the tree is given a second chance to bear fruit.

It's a parable of compassion, of mercy. It says that even though things can go wrong that doesn't condemn us to being chopped down. There's still time. We don’t have an unlimited time, because accidents can happen. We all can die at any moment. But there is time to nurture, to fertilize. There’s time to feed the tree with live-giving water.

We can change directions in our lives. And moreover, we can change the direction of life for someone else too. That tree could not change its directions on its own. But the Good Gardener could. The gardener could work with the tree and help the tree become fruitful. We too can help hopeless, fruitless situations all around us, helping others by feeding, nurturing, and watering those that hunger for the chance to be fruitful.

We don't have to be lost. Not if we can pay attention to what we're doing, where we're heading, what signs we're missing. We can look at our steps and see if there's another way forward. We can put down the stones that burden us and turn our attention to what really matters. And like the Good Gardener, we can feed the trees in our lives – including our own - that hunger to be fruitful.

Recording of the service

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.

Even When Alone, We Walk Together

I leave on Tuesday for Madrid. Yes, I'm returning to the Camino de Santiago. Unlike the 2014 and 2016 walks, I'm doing this differently.

In 2014, I walked 270 miles from after Burgos to Santiago de Compostela. In 2015, I walked short segments as I drove my parents along the entire route from Lourdes to the end. And earlier this year, I walked the 600 miles from Lourdes to Santiago de Compostela. For the most part, these were by myself or with people I met along the way. This spring, my husband Stephen joined me for the final 200 miles. So I had a little practice walking and guiding someone, but it was just one individual, someone I knew quite well.

Now, I'm leading a few people from my church. All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena has a Transformational Journeys ministry, and though I've taken a trip with them to China before, this is the first time I'm leading a group. We range in age from 31 to 67 and will be walking 117km from Sarria to Santiago de Compostela.

And yes, once again, I'll be blogging every day on this journey.

I've spent some time preparing us and the itinerary for group, but this week I had an opportunity to synthesize and reflect on this coming walk. First, it was brought to my attention that like many things in life, pilgrimages and retreats come in three phases: awareness, destabilization, and reconstruction.

First, we become aware of our surroundings, our bodies, our challenges. We identify and feel everything. We absorb and let our senses take it all in. Then we move to a period of destabilization, where we recognize that the information our senses are collecting is not what we expected, or wanted, or aspire, or accept. It's destabilizing to realize this knowledge, for we spent so much of our normal days avoiding the awareness.

To coincide with this stage, let me bring up a quote from Father Henri Nouwen. This week, we recognized the 20th anniversary of his passing. He wrote in "Making All Things New":

As soon as we are alone...inner chaos opens up in us. This chaos can be so disturbing and so confusing that we can hardly wait to get busy again. Entering a private room and shutting the door, therefore, does not mean that we immediately shut out all our inner doubts, anxieties, fears, bad memories, unresolved conflicts, angry feelings and impulsive desires. On the contrary, when we have removed our outer distraction, we often find that our inner distractions manifest themselves to us in full force. We often use the outer distractions to shield ourselves from the interior noises. This makes the discipline of solitude all the more important.

The last phase of a journey is reconstruction. You've felt, you've seen things torn apart by true awareness, and now it's time to rebuild yourself and find a new understanding. It's what we think pilgrimage is about, and yet to get there, we must first go through the other two phases. I feel that some who don't get to this part of their journeys, who feel that the Camino did not yield to them new insights, may not have allowed themselves to go through the first two phases fully and deeply.

I had a deepening of this last phase of my last Camino this week. Daniel from the UK was visiting California. If you followed my Camino, you would have seen my post "The Healing Water of Lourdes" where we walked together for the day. We spent breakfast together the next day ("Empty Nests"). And he figured prominently in my synthesis of my journey, as one of my angels who guided me ("Walking in the Kingdom of Heaven").

We met for dinner and while he stopped by Los Angeles. Two other friends of his were with us there at that restaurant in Silverlake. One of them, Sandy, seemed to walk around the same time as me. In fact, after hours of chatting, we realized that we knew many of the same people and had interactions with the Texas A&M students on the same day in Carrion de las Condes. And yet we never met until Wednesday night. And we didn't know how our lives were connected, even though they were. Even though they are.

So much of the Camino and life can be like that, I realized. We are interacting with people we never meet, their influence on us slight and indirect, our influence on them similarly subtle.

You may walk alone, but you're walking with the person in front of you, walking with the person behind you, with the person passing you on the left, with the person, you're passing on the right.

I may not know what I'm seeking on this pilgrimage. But I approach it with an open heart, and an open mind. I appreciate your prayers for our safety, for the health and well-being of those who I walk with, and for all of us reading this. We are all bound together in ways we cannot recognize, destabilizing and reconstructing each other whether we know it or not.

But first we have to feel it.
To sense it.
To become aware of what we have in front of us.

And though it can be frightening, we can move on in prayer with each other and for each other and for ourselves.

And for those who are Christian and spiritually inclined, I want to bring up that not only are we connected to each other, we are connected to the divine. Whether we know it or not, we are affected and informed by this relationship, seen or unseen. I'll close with a portion of a prayer attributed to Saint Patrick.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me. 

Buen camino fellow pilgrims. Buen camino.

Camino 2016 05/15- Tempered by fire

I wanted to see some death monuments on Pentecost Sunday, I must admit. We focus so much on the inspirational fire and talking in tongues that descends upon us by the Holy Spirit. A couple years ago, it occurred to me that the symbol isn't the usual olive branch or dove but an actual tongue of fire. This was no limp Holy Spirit but one that was sort of bad ass.

Fire is scary as well as a tool. To me it was no accident that a fiery tongue came down on our heads. We were being cooked. 

Heated up. And used as food for others. That's what fire does and that's what Pentecost seemed to imply to me. 

We become instruments by the Holy Spirit even unto death to nourish others. We are tempered by fire to do so.

So I went to see famous sites of the dead . First The Père Lachaise cemetery where numerous luminaries are buried. It's hard to find these tombs in a totally overpopulated place, but I at least saw: the gay wit Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison of the rock band the Who, pianist Chopin, famous playwright Molière (sorry high school French teacher Mrs Imperatrice, I never got his humour), and the ultimate live couple of Heloise and Abelard.

And lots of monuments that were Egyptian in scale or small churches. Then I went to an Episcopal service and came across the fire of Liberty statue that also marks the tunnel where Princess Dianna died 20 years ago.

After mass where Episcopal Bishop of Europe Pierre Whalon blessed me as I journey in his diocese, I tried to see the Catacombs where millions on millions of skeletons are on display. The line was absurd and I was starting to feel under the weather so I skipped and went to the Panthéon. It was once a church to St Genevieve but became a secular temple after the French Revolution. I made my way to see Louise Braille, the Curies, Victor Hugo, Voltaire, and others.

I wish I got to see the normal dead as well as the celebrated but it did fill me in a way. I saw those who created and loved in ways that inspire to this day. If only I saw those less celebrated but who still did so for their families and friends.

This pilgrimage of healing is not just a tourist jaunt through the Pyrenees and northern Spain. It's one where I am walking with you, with others, as we are inspired to pray for others, heal others, ask for prayers, heal ourselves, raise life in love, be loved. We are tempering our metal to cope with issues that frustrate, awe, eventually kill us. 

And even though things like colds slow us down, we walk on because we have no choice. We've been graced to live a certain way, to our best and most authentic selves, until our last breath. It's not just pretty symbolism but a scary charge.

Walk on with the fire of inspiration, as we are inspired to create and love with others.

At the foot of the cross

I ask for your prayers. The arch of my left foot has been hurting for the past two weeks. It's usually a dull ache but once it was an acute pain. It fills me with concern and anxiety as I depart today for my pilgrimage.

My aches may be making me feel down, but I am confident that it won't hold me back. Something has been calling me to the foot of the cross for too long -- drawing me to love unlimited, to care for others always - to allow this to just stop my pilgrimage.

Instead, the journey might be changed.

The journey might be massaged and morphed and mutated into something that wasn't conceived in my imagination and original plans.

The journey might become less; and, it might become more.

From the many lessons that arose from my last Camino, and from prayerful discernment, I've come around to understanding the need to give up the need to control my journey. Father Richard Rohr has stated that the opposite of love is not doubt; the opposite of love is control. I've spent far too much time controlling my path instead of allowing God's plans and routes to unfold.

So I will try to not let the instinct-to-control own me. I will be intentional in diminishing the fear it wants to create in me. And the way to do so is to let that instinct free. Let it float away. Accepting the plans of the Holy Spirit is so much more difficult than I imagined, yet it also is so much more liberating than I imagined.

And allowing Her to show me a different way may mean revealing my own hurts and pains first. Again, this will be ok. For whether or not I have disappointments in coping with these limitations placed by my body and mind, I should try to yield and accept changes to purely man-made facades. For these man-made edifices were built by me. They might have been inspired by my love of Christ, molded by experience with others, tempered by flawed relationships, but they are mine and not God's plans for me. I don't have some hotline to know what Her plans truly are so I must listen and listen well.

So yield I must try. And pray I will. And if you, as I begin this pilgrimage, walk and yield, pray and walk with me, then I truly will be on a pilgrimage with God beside me. And as we make our away along the foot of the cross, we can carry each other along to places that feed us deeply.

Buen camino, peregrino.

Reviewing the 2014 Camino: A Compilation

For the past few months, I've reviewed my Pre-Camino, Camino, and Post-Camino posts on a Facebook group. If you're interested in joining that group and are on Facebook, you can point to http://bit.ly/mel-healing-camino.

Finally, I've finished my reviews. This entry in Let All Who Are Thirsty Come compiles those thoughts into one blog post, starting with the first reviews until today's review. I want to thank you for re-walking that pilgrimage with me and for joining me on this one. 50 hours left before the flight!

To be honest, I had NO IDEA that I've been spending this much time reflecting. For those who read all this, practically a small book it seems, I thank you for sharing in my journey. I appreciate your prayers as we go together on our pilgrimage for the next two months.

1) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Camino de Santiago - Going Alone, Together"
http://letallwhoarethirstycome.com/camino-de-santiago-this-pilgrims.html


I'm so glad I'm reviewing my perceptions and preparation from my last Camino. I just re-read prep #3 and have already begun showing some ponderings about what it means to be alone AND together. This blog posting was 3 weeks before I left and the nervousness and not yet reached its pinnacle. I knew that I would be alone and not alone, yet as the time grew closer, I became more nervous and concerned about isolation. What is a blessing about this post is that so many things in it were shown true on the Camino. People walk together into each others lives or they may sit at a cafe and share a brief moment of circumspection. But we're on our journeys together, but on our own, and by ourselves, but not alone.


2) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Lasciate ogni speranza"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/08/camino-de-santiago-lasciate-ogni.html

Abandon all hope all who enter here. I liked my thinking here. It's definitely true. Taking a pilgrimage like this isn't a time for Hope. It's a time for Trust. Trust and be transformed.



3) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Cruz de Ferro"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/08/camino-de-santiago-cruz-de-ferro.html

This remains one of the most meaningful stops for me on the Camino. It's about 150 miles from Santiago de Compostela. Throughout your camino, you carry a pebble or stone from where you started. You leave it here at the foot of the cross, as a symbol of all the burdens you carry. This blog posting anticipated my arrival very well.

“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

PART 2

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/08/camino-de-santiago-capo-de-finisterre.html

In re-reading this preparation for the Camino from fall 2014, I'm struck by my comparison to Ash Wednesday and Lent. It seems well timed to offer it to you then during this Lenten season. The subject of this meditation was my visit to the Faro (Lighthouse) at the Capo de Finesterre (Cape at the end of the world). The Romans thought this was the Westernmost area of Europe so would have ceremonies asking the sun to return the next day. In the cycle of life and pilgrimage, I think it still resonates. Check out the blog posting. May your journey reach the farthest shores and yet, at the end, find that light comes anew the next day.


4) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "What's On Your Playlist?"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/camino-de-santiago-whats-on-your.html

Ahh how timely. This weekend I coincidentally skimmed over my phone's music library to see what pieces I need to add or remove (to make room) before the Camino. I didn't play the music ever while walking. I listened to the music at night as I wrote my thoughts down and fell asleep. It certainly helped to mask the snoring in the albergues. But more, I would play music that reflected my day's journey. Interestingly, I never played orchestral classical music. I wanted words with lyrics. The Taize hymns were probably my favorite, as the chanting carried me into sleep. And, as in life, it's not just the high notes and the notes in between that caught my attention: the empty notes in between were spaces that mimicked the beats of the walking foot, the steady heart.



5) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Who's On Your Praylist?"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/camino-de-santiago-whos-on-your.html


I find it disappointing that I was praying for Ferguson back then when so little has changed since then. Also, I've truly been filled since joining Lay Eucharistic Visitors right after that Camino. Now, just before this one, I've been trained and am serving as a lay counselor. Somehow the walking prayer feels consistent with the movements inside me heart at home.



6) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "This Pilgrim's Prayers"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/camino-de-santiago-this-pilgrims.html

I still like the mix of prayers I brought with me. It's a blend of prayers and hymns. All of these will accompany me on this coming Camino. Perhaps you too will join me in these prayers.




7) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Preparing"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/camino-de-santiago-way-preparing-11.html

Wow. I wrote this just days before I left in 2014. It reviews the movie The Way. More importantly, I anticipated that I would come across people, friends, characters, in ways that I could not plan or anticipate. And it totally happened that way, surprising me not because it happened but in the ways it happened. Moreover, despite my best efforts to pack less, I still overpacked and carried more with me than I needed, things that burdened me and held me back. Now that's a metaphor for life.


8) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Road Not Taken"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/camino-de-santiago-road-not-taken.html

This post from Sep 9, 2014 has really caused my stomach to turn. In it, I mentioned that I wanted to avoid judging others, to avoid judging myself, to be open-hearted and open-minded about my camino as distinct from the journeys of others. And yet I know in retrospect the challenges I faced on my walk: my choice to stay in Astorga, my avoidance of the a fellow peregrino, even my conversations on the plane home. It's a challenge to keep an open heart and mind to those I don't know or with whom I disagree. It's a challenge to give myself permission to change plans. It's a challenge for me to be free of biases. The pilgrimage underscored that for me, laying it plain at my feet. I hope that in the two years since, I've made progress. But we are never there. We are always moving. The Spirit guides us and it's up to us to keep following.

9) Reviewing that first Camino: "Arriving in Burgos"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-1-camino-de-santiago-madrid-to.html

AKA Yes, I injured myself and lost something within hours of arriving

What is it about me that I forget life lessons? I know I'm not alone, but are we so conditioned that it takes countless repetitions of mistakes to finally work towards our goals? I think so, but it frustrates nonetheless. I still lose things. I still trip and bleed. But I'm more sanguine about these weaknesses, as I know that I'm still moving in the right direction. Awareness is a start. Help from others is part of the effort. And some day, one day, maybe I'll lose fewer things, and bloody fewer knees.

(And honest appraisal: I bloodied my knee during the family's participation at a mud run in Chino this weekend. How's that for a gentle if messy reminder?)


10) Reviewing that first Camino: "Remember the Names"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-2-recap-i-better-write-these-names.html

I'm surprised that I didn't notice some of the themes of that first day of walking, my second day in Spain. I titled the blog posting "I Better Write These Names Down". It was about remembering the names and stories of the people I meet.

How fitting, given how moved I was when, within 30 minutes of walking, I saw my first Camino-side grave. I remember praying for Rev Wren. Thank goodness his name was written down and remembered by his loved ones. How fitting that my morning began with me noticing how far I was from home. How fitting it was that I found some notecards from Stephen to send me off on my Camino in love.

Which is why this day was so meaningful. The first lesson of my pilgrimage already hit me. It's about relationships, stories, people. I may have fidgeted with my backpack in pain and possibly hurt some toenails, but if anyone today asks me about what I recall from that first day, I talk about the people. I talk about the stories.

Life is too short to focus on pain. Wouldn't it be grand if we always remember the people we meet and how they affect us in ways unplanned.

We are never alone. We cannot make this journey on our own. We will not survive physically or mentally or spiritually. So write down those names, and remember those who walk with you.


11) Reviewing the 2014 Camino - "40 by 50"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-3-40-by-50.html

The 2014 day started with such promise. Early wake up to my first full day walking. Started with the two Canadian women who also turned 50 but we separated after an hour. At least three hours of lightning and rains that made me question why I was doing this. But despite the discomfort, I knew that my load was lighter than those who had no choice but to sleep in the rain. This pilgrimage is a privilege that allows me to see things with new eyes. It wasn't foisted on me. So I trudged, weary, appreciating somewhat better the struggles of those who lack shelter every day.

PART 2

The long day in the rain
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-3-recap-of-long-day-in-rain.html

Upon re-reading this blog posting, I was surprised by the metaphor towards the end. It was a struggle of a day. What I thought would be a 35km day turned out to be 41km. I ached and was grumpy, was soaking wet, and lost my scarf once the clouds burned off and I got hot. I heard live music and saw fireworks, yet needed to rest. Anyone who's ever watched me at a live music show knows how much I find joy in most any performance. It must have been special kind of exhaustion for me to just turn over and go to sleep. To pass up on joy because I needed to tend to myself. We all need to repair our bodies and souls, and yet it's sometimes disheartening when we cannot take part in that which truly enlivens us. Health and joy shouldn't be pitted against each other, but all too often they are. May you and I find both in harmony on our lives.

12) Reviewing the 2014 Camino - "Creature Comforts"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-4-creature-comforts.html

As I read this, I notice that this day was when I started to get my footing. I got a little rest because it was a shorter day. I also got to enjoy an exciting city like Leon. And perhaps most importantly, Susan from Atlanta and I got lost yet we mutually helped each other find our way back on our path. Isn't this so much like life? We lose track and might not even notice it on our own. And with the support of others -- helping them, helping us -- we pull together and can find our way once more. That... that's the sort of place where God wants us. That's the sort of place that brings comfort and stillness to our lives.

13) Remembering the 2014 Camino "Changing Plans"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-4-recap-changing-plans.html

I posted about comfort on day 4 but that wasn't the lesson. The real lesson was about changing plans, not controlling the camino (your path, your way, your life), but just walking your camino, your path, your way, your life.

This review strikes me in a most powerful way right now as I make my spiritual journey. I cannot force my way; I must live it.

So the prayer that I had for the end of that day in 2014 still remains:

May we not be hemmed in by the journey of others;

may our road be one of fulfillment not obligation;

May we open our eyes to see what was laid before us;

May the stars guide our feet to the place we are meant to be.

14) Remembering the 2014 Camino "The Change was worth it"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-5-change-was-worth-it.html

I remember this day much. I was more tired going up the hills than I should have been, but the heat was a bit more than expected. Most surprisingly for me as I review what I learned is that I keep having to re-learn these lessons.

And that's ok. We're human and we depend on others and on Christ to stay the course.

And the course isn't what our best laid plans are. Not at all. The course is being true to ourselves, to what we were meant to be, to what bring us closer to God. Sometimes that means going outside of our plans, plans which are of our own human design.

So I'm grateful for the reminder of a lesson of that day: Go where you are called and be thankful

15) Remembering the 2014 Camino - "Offline day of friend and tears"

http://www.LetAllWhoAreThirstyCome.com/2014/09/day-6-offline-day-of-friend-and-tears.html

This was a day of loneliness. Loneliness because after a delightful, powerful morning walking with a new friend from Canada, I spent the latter half of the day disconnected. I was offline because there was no wifi, but more importantly, offline because the contrast between the morning and the afternoon/evening was so stark.

I had not yet realized what was happening. Though I was fully anticipating a great deal of time to reflect on my own, I was more fully present with the face of God by sharing stories with another. Without the feeling of connection, without that community, it was actually that much harder to feel myself walking in the presence of God.

May our mutual affection and love bring us closer to seeing God.

16) Remembering my 2014 Camino - "Cruz de Ferro"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-6-cruz-de-ferro.html

I'm truly wrecked re-reading this blog posting. I filmed via re-enactment a video that's shared here. 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. I didn't film that intimate moment because I wanted to be 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. 

I'm thinking that when I return on this Camino of Healing, I lay down the burdens of all who walk with me in that stone. But there's something else I must do.

I'm bringing a stone from the Grand Canyon. I FELT that I was in a thin space, closer to a divine indescribable world that I imagine the Native Americans felt in this 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 weakness, for my pain, for my tears. Leave it out there in public for all to see.

And I'll leave that stone there, in the rain, in the sun, in the wind, in the dark... There... at the foot of the cross.

The video is at http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-6-cruz-video.html

17) Remembering my 2014 Camino - "Rainbows on Rocks"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-7-rainbows-on-rocks.html

That was one of the prettiest days I've ever walked. What struck me though was an "ouch", when a non-English speaker bluntly pointed out that I wasn't wearing the "right" shoes for hiking. (I don't like hiking boots, as they get too hot, so I wore hiking sandals.) As was brought up in the sermon yesterday, our brains are hardwired to spend far more time on negative thoughts than on positive ones. So despite the beauty, I pondered the comment.

I don't fault the speaker as I imagine he meant well. In fact, I ran into him on my last day at Finesterre and learned he was a surgeon from Croatia. It's more that rather than being caring as he advised me, he made me feel foolish. As I pointed out in the blog, there are many opportunities for us throughout life to help and care for others. And during those times, it's far too easy to pass judgment and seem critical rather than compassionate.

I ended that day, people watching in Ponferrada, with a prayer that I don't hurt the people that trust me to care for them.

18) Reviewing the 2014 Camino: "Sitting with the Wine and the Lamb"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-7-sitting-with-wine-and-lamb.html

The two other moments of the day "Rainbows on the Rocks" are pleasant to recall. Though saddened by the injured sheep, it comforted me that the shepherd patiently waited and made sure they came along. The metaphor during a long journey was not lost on me.

Moreover, the opportunity to slake my thirst with wild grapes alongside the road, grapes I didn't see until I sat to rest, opened my eyes to see that gifts are there all around us. It's by pausing, breathing, accepting our tiredness that we might actually see these gifts.

19) Remembering my 2014 Camino: "May the rain fall softly on your fields"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-8-villafranca-del-bierzo.html

As I review my blog posting of that day, I noticed how I started with gratitude for the food and wine at breakfast and lunch. Then, as the rain started to come ever harder, I had to pause as I watched the workers toiling in the vineyard. And I had to be thankful. As I ate dinner that night, my prayer thanking those who collected and prepared the food seemed so much more poignant. 

20) Remembering my 2014 Camino: "O what a Day"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-9-o-what-day.html

The walk up the mountain, crossing into the province of Galicia, to the village O Cebreiro was challenging, frustrating, breathtaking, and of all things touching. Surrounded by mud and vertical trails, I saw people helping each other, encouraging each other, smiling at each other. And all basking in the radiance of sun bursting through misty fog and hill-hugging clouds. How fitting in retrospect then that I should end the day listening to "Ubi Caritas" (Where love and charity are, God is there) at mass and having just honey and cheese for dinner.

21) Remembering my 2014 Camino : "Descending into Hello"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-10-descending-into-hello.html

It was such a simple blog. It recounted all the great people I met along the Camino on that day. And yet these people have stayed with me in the most personal way. We encouraged each other, laughed with each other, were astonished at the weird solar powered vending machine in the middle of the forest with each other.

I'm not sure if I recognized it just quite yet, but this might have been the turning point for me with realizing that my pilgrimage to walk with God was a pilgrimage to walk with other pilgrims. It's clear now... But it takes 40km after 40km after 40km, some of that through free range chicken ummm residue, to work its way into my mortal brain.

Thank God for friends.

PART 2

At tonight's Taizé service, the lectionary reading was the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35)

As I read it aloud at the chapel service, I found myself thinking about my post earlier today... I walked on a pilgrimage just like the gospel reading and also was oh so slow to see the face of Christ in the person walking beside me.

Wow

I pray this night that you, who are on this pilgrimage with me, will always see the Christ in me and me the Christ in you. And that if I am to walk in the way of faith and of healing, see sooner rather than later that Christ already is there beside me

The reading:

Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him....

He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”

22) Reviewing my 2014 camino: "Me, Ourselves, and Why"

http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-11-me-ourselves-and-why.html

This journey you are taking with me has been so enlightening. Reviewing this blogpost, I note the feeling that the pendulum of awareness has swung. My search into and for my authentic self involves my community with others, whether they come fleetingly or repeatedly. And I was learning from both the young and the experienced.

What was my journey without the company of others? What is community without me? I even brought friends from home, like Stephen​ and Dan​, on my quest. Such was the deepening lessons of this pilgrimage. It was humbling and enriching to accept our need for each others' fellowship, that pilgrimage or not, we can't do it alone.

And it was so very helpful to reflect that the adventures of discovery and awareness by my Austrian friends are the same I yearned for when I was their age. The same that I yearn for today. The same that I will seek in another three decades.

23) Not a Review but a prayer to include everyone on this journey

Some may have seen my post that the circle of life has weighed heavily upon me for the last couple years. Two weeks before our marriage in 2014, Stephen's brother Tim passed on. 12 hours after our wedding reception, we carried our wedding flowers over to his memorial...

Tim finally yielded to cancer. He will also be with me - literally - in my backpack. He will be prayed over in Lourdes and some of him will remain there. And he will walk with me along the entire Camino all the way to the ocean.

We all walk with joy and fear, love and sadness. May we always walk that journey with God's light shining in our hearts




24) Reviewing my 2014 Camino posts: "Preconceived Notions and Judgment"
www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-12-preconceived-notions-and-judgment.html

This was a defining day and evening for me on the Camino 2014. I learned much, breathed much clean air, was profoundly impressed by the journey of Emma and her son Karol, grew deeper in relationship with my Austrian friends, and spent much time alone in my thoughts and spiritual reflection.

And...

And I fell victim to my own preconceived notions and biases. I rushed to judgment.  If you read the blog post, you'll see that I judged Jim from Alabama without hearing his story.

I was up all night. Like Jacob wrestling with the messenger/angel, I could not accept the message that was brought to me. I thought I was learning. I thought I was discovering myself and becoming aware.

And I was still a work in progress.

I struggled and wept 1/2 the night away, no small task when you've walked over 20 miles with a backpack. I wondered if my walk was in vain.

In retrospect, I now know better. It's just a step on my journey. I needed to see my frailties and my less than loving self. It's a lesson I work on and will likely forever face, for that journey is indeed my way. And I'll walk on, knowing that I might not reach my goals as a mortal person, but I'll be ever closer, ever nearer, ever more loving than I am today.





25) Reviewing my 2014 Camino: "Lost My Hat, Found My Head"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-13-list-my-hat-gained-much-more.html

It's funny how we protect ourselves with hats. They provide comfort, safety, and shade. And yet sometimes, they cover our eyes, keep us from seeing what's around us, prevent us from letting our hair down.

By accident, I lost my hat on this date. Stephen wondered how many of my items I'd lose on the Camino, since I tend to misplace things all the time. Yet I wasn't bothered. It was a perfect metaphor for the day. For as I lost my hat, I found my head. And I could see ever more clearly.

I at first thought I needed more time alone to process the day's painful lessons. But what I needed was companionship, friendship, and non-judgmental affirmation. I was quite humbled that these young Europeans wanted to walk with me. And it made me fully grasp that though we are works in progress, with the help of others, we can grow to be oh so much more.

We often won't see what's happening all around us if we're always comfortable, safe, and in the darkness. I pray that we let go of our hats and see, hear, feel the Holy wind swirling all around us.




26) Reviewing the 2014 Camino: "The Way"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-14-way_27.html

Yesterday, the blog posting from two years ago talked about losing my hat, but finding my head. Or, sometimes to see things more clearly, you need to take off the things that have protected you and shielded you in the past, because no matter the usefulness, they will block you from others as well as yourself.

Today, the reviewed blog posting records our final day, the walk into Santiago de Compostela. I had been contemplating the events from the preceding hundreds of miles and by the last couple hours, most of the pilgrims fell silent. It was an awe-inspiring sight without sound. Pilgrims thinking to themselves, step upon step.

There are a couple other blog postings that followed but I think this one reflected our silence that day. My blog merely recorded the events and let the Spirit continue to speak to me in that silence between the words.

So in the spirit of that silence, I'll just say "We arrived... and then we continued our journey."




27) Reviewing the 2014 Camino: "Are we there yet?"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/days-14-16-in-santiago-are-we-there-yet.html

Had a wonderful breakfast with good friend Gerti​ this morning. She just completed a pilgrimage to Italy that included visits to St Francis and St Benedict. We discussed the end of her pilgrimage and this impending pilgrimage I start on Thursday.

So how fitting that today's post reflects on my blog entry "Are We there yet?", the events once I got to Santiago de Compostela. My pilgrimage had ended, or so it seemed. But had it. Was I there yet? Or was I still en route to some place I searched. Was I still as always at the beginning?

And as we talked, it came up that my time on vestry of All Saints Pasadena came to a close the day she returned from pilgrimage. That experience for the past four years, too, has been a journey for me. It has come to an end. Or is it still continuing? Am I still at the beginning?

And as we talked, it occurred to me that her husband John​ was there when I got nominated for Vestry and Gerti helped mentor me when I began my term. That marked the beginning of the vestry journey that just ended.

And this post, which felt like an ending of the pilgrimage until I saw the blessing via the, let's face it, outrageously enormous incense bomb called the botofumeiro. While sitting in that church, I realized that this wasn't a blessing of ending. It was a blessing of a journey, wherever I am on that journey of faith.

So wherever you are on your journey of faith, may you be blessed by our Creator that our journey, like life, has no beginning or end, just milestones and resting places, glorious mountains and desolate valleys, bounty and thirst. Let's walk together and know that all who are hungry are welcome.



28) Reviewing the 2014 Camino - "It's the End of the World as we know it"
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-16-it-end-of-world-as-we-know-it.html

Forgive the 1987 REM Song as a title. It's a fave from back in the day and seemed to fit this blog posting memory. (Video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0GFRcFm-aY)

Finesterre means "Ends of the World", as the ancients mistakenly thought it to be the western-most edge of the known world. So temples were built and rituals performed to pray that the sun return the next day.

I didn't need to know that the sun returns tomorrow. Science says it will in our minds, and Easter shows it will in our hearts. But that doesn't mean we can't stop and reflect on the idea of the end of things.

I think today I would focus on the seeming darkness that comes upon us, regularly, unbidden. It stays our lives and forces us to be still. And somehow we need to be unafraid, though in truth, we all experience the fear of the unknown darkness, sometimes often, sometimes unexpectedly.

And yet, and yet. The sun does return. We don't have to pray for it. Like grace, it just comes whether our hearts are gripped by anxieties or not. Do we acknowledge this gift and blessing? Or do we rail against dawn because of the work that must be done? Why do we do so? Shouldn't we be glad that we have another day, another chance, to face the challenges before us?

I burned some notes that day at the edge of the world, letting the ashes of my words and fears die into the setting sun. The journey went as far as it could go that day, that camino. And yet, and yet. Tomorrow, the journey resumes.

... and I feel fine.



29) Reviewing my 2014 Camino: (After Camino) “No More Arrows”
http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/10/no-more-arrows-day-in-salamanca.html

On my last day in Santiago de Compostela, I attended the pilgrim's mass at the Cathedral and got to see the famous botofumeiro, the largest censer in the world, spraying incense as it swings up to the tops of the high transept ceiling. My video is at http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/10/day-16-botafumeiro.html

It was after a day spent in Finesterre, where as I mentioned yesterday, I burnt some notes there at the Atlantic Ocean to mark the end and yet also the beginning of a journey. The video is at http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/09/day-16-finisterre-fire-video.html

As I left Santiago on the night train, I wondered about the rest of my visit. You see, I built in a few extra days in case I got injured. If I finished as expected, I could then visit a few other towns before returning home.

And all throughout that time and while visiting Salamanca, I habitually looked for arrows to guide me, as though I were still on the camino. Of course I saw no arrows.

No scallop shells point the way.

No directions.

No guideposts.

Just our language skills, our hearts, our senses to guide us. It seemed rather jarring and somewhat frightening. But that’s what the world is like from day to day isn’t it?

And aren't those arrows on the Camino giving us a false sense of security? Follow them blindly, and you may walk right past the restaurant when you hunger or the dormitory when you need to stop for the day.

Yet all around us, it's possible to get hints. We look at signs, we hear directions, we sense where we’re supposed to go. But when we look, are we seeing? When we hear, are we listening?

Aren't the directions actually there, not obviously, buried deeper within, within our hearts, within the hearts of those we encounter?

On this third day after the Feast of the Ascension, may we be fully aware that the we’ve been given many clues and directions to guide us, aware enough to begin incorporating those directions into our journey. And may the lack of easy arrows liberate us from false security on our way to true happiness.



30) Final Review of my 2014 Camino: "After the Walk, Where do I Stand?" http://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2014/10/after-walk-where-do-i-stand.html

What a journey! It's almost like another camino to review these blog posts.

It seems my takeaways summarized here are
a) Follow my own path, my own camino
b) I won't be alone
c) I may depend most on those I knew least
d) Monitor my reflexive judgment

Please re-read the story about the young man on the plane in this blog. I've kept that (and the story of Melides) in the back of my head since the 2014 Camino. It's motivates me greatly to set aside my selfishness to see if I can understand the needs of those who I might not know or appreciate.

Messengers, or angels as the Bible calls them, are often depicted with wings because they fly in from nowhere with an urgent message, sometimes a call, to inform or to act. In the 270 camino miles (370 total) from those weeks in 2014 Spain, I had angels fluttering at me from all directions at all hours of the day.

So as the title asked, where do I stand today?

I think the question should have been "How Do I Stand?". How, because life is an ever moving river, and our journeys are not static. If we are to have lives moving towards reconciliation and healing, we must be in motion. It might not be with our feet, as a Camino implies. It might be deeper inside that we keep moving. For "How do we stand?" when our hearts beat on, filling us with life, beating as one with the angels around us?

Free of Stones - A Lenten Meditation

The stone I brought with me on the Camino de Santiago during my first pilgrimage in 2014.

The Cruz de Ferro stands as one of the most meaningful sites for me on the Camino de Santiago, along the Camino Frances route. It's about 150 miles from Santiago de Compostela, just after the mountain top town of Foncebadon.  In some ways, it may be the most Lenten pilgrim stop along the Camino Frances (French Route).

Perigrinos (pilgrims) typically carry a stone or pebble from home on their journey. Upon arriving at the Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross), they see a mound of pebbles, rocks, photos, letters, and seemingly random items with a large thin monument topped by a cross.

The mound is made of all the pebbles and items 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.

The stones represent something quite powerful. Prior to a pilgrimage trip, peregrino travelers are instructed to reduce, Reduce, REDUCE the weight of their pack to make this arduous, long journey more tolerable. 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 pilgrim, 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 go through life with unnecessary baggage. Emotional or spiritual, granite or mental, that baggage will slow you down. They might be your vices. They might be your habits. They could be your imagined self or your Facebook persona. They could even be the ones you love. All things of this earth can act like stones, at least some times.

It's humbling to know of the stones in your life; it's bewildering and frustrating to not know the stones in your life. Lent is an opportunity for us to unearth the stones in our life, to find them in the dust, and to leave them at the cross. It's in God's unimaginable love for us that we can discover that we don't need to carry the stones. We are meant to leave them behind.

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

When I saw the cross and laid down my stone, I cried. No. No, I sobbed. Sobbed because after enduring a couple falls on my first pilgrimage, I knew that I was carrying a stone that I did not need. I laid that stone at the foot of the cross, knowing that I could and would still stumble, but that the process of letting go, the search for freedom shown in resurrection, the journey towards God would be easier by laying it down.

Like the thousands of pilgrims who walked before me, I asked our Lord to carry my burdens for me.

May your Lenten prayers free you to walk with a lighter load.





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