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?

Packing for the Camino

For over two years, I've written about preparing spiritually for pilgrimage, and yet there's always the question of practicality. How does one physically prepare for the Camino de Santiago? How does one pack for it?

For the physical preparation: I walk often and everywhere. This is more true now that I've been on Camino and have gotten the mindset that everything is within walking distance if you have enough time. If you're concerned about physical situations, start walking.

Walk one mile (17-22 minutes for most people) twice a week for a few weeks. Then add a mile. Keep doing so until you reach a point where you're satisfied with your endurance. Don't forget to bring water. Once you reach that satisfaction point, start carrying a backpack with stuff in it. Add more.

Your walking doesn't have to be only on trails. A good portion of the Camino is through areas akin to city and suburban streets. Mix it up with parks and suburbs and beaches. And if you have mountains or hills nearby, include them gradually into your regime.

Packing is not that different. It's an art form that needs just as much practice and forethought. It's not about money for the fanciest, most expensive item. My convertible pants can for example go for $90 ($65 if on sale) at REI or $25 at Sears. This isn't a fashion show.

Ideally, it's said that your pack should not exceed 10% of your body weight. I try to follow that rule, with the exception of the weight of water needed for the day.

So here's a breakdown on what's in my pack. It's got a couple extra items in it that add a 1/2-lb or so but it's 5-lbs less than I brought 2 years ago. Also, I will be carrying about 2-4 pounds of water from Lourdes that I will be sharing with pilgrims who feel in the need of heeling.

In the descriptions below, "for town" means clothing needed once I arrive at a place, shower, and now can lounge at the albergue or walk about town.

Figure 1 - Clothing

Clothing (Figure 1)
The clothing choices here are based on late May-early October pilgrimage. If you travel before mid-May or after mid-October, there's the possibility of snow and your clothes need warmer options. My legs rarely get cold but my torso does, so it's all about layering.

• Convertible trousers, where the bottoms can unzip leaving you shorts. You then pack the bottom leggings away. In reality I'm likely to just wear them as shorts most of the time, except when it rains. I wear them as trousers on the plane because overnight transcontinental flights are notoriously cold.
• 3 quick dry shirts (2 alternating, wearing one while I wash and dry the other; the third is for town)
• 3 quick dry underwear (2 alternating, wearing one while I wash and dry the other; the third is for town)
• 1 Shorts for town 
• 1 Long sleeve T-shirt for town
• 1 Light jacket
• 3 outside socks (thicker, knee high)
• 3 inside socks (comfy, extra to avoid blisters)
• 1 pair of sandals so that I don't have to wear my shoes around the albergue or town
• 1 rain poncho that can cover me and the backpack concurrently 
• 1 pair of light gloves for the early morning (carrying a flashlight can leave your hand cold)
• Bandana loop that can act as a scarf, headband, etc. Many buy the "Buff" brand but I find them unnecessarily expensive.

Figure 2 - Clothing that I won't be wearing but will be in the pack

I put this picture in Figure 2 out so you can get an idea of how minimal clothing should look

Figure 3 - Backpack, Back Brace, Walking Stick, and Daypack + Contents

Items needed while walking (Figure 3)

• 48L backpack. The rule of thumb is maxing out at 40L to keep the weight down but I found that the larger pack has more pockets for easier access. I found that the smaller pack sat oddly on my back and was quite frustrating to access small items, which sometimes required me to partially unpack everything. Note the assortment of bungees and lockable carabiners.
• Back brace - I sometimes tweak my back and I am in much discomfort sitting on a plane for more than 3 hours. I wear the brace while walking so that I don't accidentally twist my back while putting on and taking off the backpack. It also helps me to maintain proper posture while walking, an important part of endurance and avoiding injury.
• Various 1 gallon and 1 quart ziploc bags.
• Toilet paper. Seriously, you never know what the bathroom will have. And if you're on a trail and there are no options, please bury it our carry it out in a plastic bag like you would while walking your dog.
• Walking stick. Mine is actually monopod that serves as a walking stick. I use it to take pictures with less blurry shakiness.
• Camino shell - symbol of the Camino pilgrim. Some wear it on their neck. Most keep it on their backpack or daypack.
• Flashlight - I got this one at 99 Cents Only and you don't need batteries. Just squeeze it repeatedly for a few minutes and it's fully charged. Sunrise for May and June is around 7:30-8am and sunset is 10pm or later (after normal pilgrim bedtime). Since I start at 6am to avoid the mid-day heat, I need the flashlight for about 60-90 minutes.
• Camera. I wasn't going to bring one but since I'm staying after the Camino for a week of tourism, decided I wanted my camera.
• Wide brimmed water-proof hat. Baseball caps shelter your head but they do nothing for your neck and ears.
• 2L camel with tube. I use the 2L because there aren't many places to refill on the Pyrenees. Where the trail is more populated, I fill it up only halfway and carry about 1L of water at a time.
• Blue vial to carry a small dose of healing water from Lourdes. Not pictured is a 1-2 liter container that I will get and fill in Lourdes. The small container will make it easier to share the water with others.
• Notepad with pen.
• Individually wrapped snacks that will last me on the 5 less populated days of the Pyrenees, which are right at the start. No need to risk a sugar crisis when one is a borderline diabetic. One in three American adults over the age of 20 has this condition.
• Wallet that has a coin pocket for Euros. Stone that I'll leave at the Cruz de Ferro is currently in that pocket at the moment.
• USB charger and cable. I got a solar one. If it works, great; if it doesn't and I must charge at the wall, I'm no worse off. It carries a 12,000 mAh reserve.
• Passport and Camino passport in a ziploc bag.
• The mobile phone was used to take a picture so it's not seen. Some say leave the mobile phone at home. I keep it so that I can coordinate with Stephen and others that I meet. Also, I prefer to blog to journal rather than to write on paper. It also has tunes for the night, and prayers, the bible, and Book of Common Prayer for the morning and bedtime.

Figure 4 - Items needed at the shared bathroom & dormitories

Items I need at the albergues at bed or in the bathroom (Figure 4)

• Blood pressure medication and ibuprofen. Here's a tip. Take a pain killer like ibuprofen when you check in to an albergue, hostal, or hotel. That way, if you nap or since you have stopped walking, you won't be as likely to suffer leg cramps. Also, I take them if I know I'm going uphill in the next hour so that to reduce risks of any discomfort in my back.
• Instead of a microfiber towel (the texture invariably feels weird to me), I'm using a sarong for a towel. It can wrap around the waist unlike small microfiber towels.
• The flat water bottle is for bed. You may get thirsty at night. A normal cylindrical bottle may roll off the bed. The flat one won't.
• The mesh bag can hang easily at the bed or clothesline. It's also helpful if your laundry doesn't dry out the night before. You can tie the mesh bag to your pack so that your clothes continue to air dry.
• The sleeping bag liner is all that's needed at this time of year. If I'm colder, I can put on my light jacket
• The camera charger cable is likely used at night if that battery runs down.
• The hangable toiletries bag allows you to hang and access while in the shower.
• A quick dry latherer / exfoliator feels so good after a long day sweating.
• Euro wall charger with multiple USB ports.
• Earbuds, eye cover, and Compeed for blisters.

Figure 5 - Extras & Emergencies

Emergency and Extras (Figure 5)

• Earbuds
• Charger cable
• USB charger with a USA plug for layovers
• Extra camera battery
• Ankle braces for my easily injured ankles.
• Surgical tape may prevent blisters from forming so I'm bringing some to try out. Supposedly, you wrap it around the areas where you tend to get blisters and it will help tremendously.

Shoes (Figure 6)
Two years ago I wore hiking sandals. This year, I decided to wear hiking shoes. I don't wear hiking boots because my feet get too hot.

I may still wear my hiking sandals however. The arch of my left foot has started to hurt this past week, and it could possibly be due to the new shoes which I'm breaking in.

Please keep me in your prayers as I struggle with this choice and pre-trip pain.

Hope this helps. Figure 7 shows what you look like at the end of packing this 18-lb pack (and wear some of the clothes).

Figure 7. Peregrino

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Learning & Re-learning. Re-tracing Your Footsteps

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

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

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

During this review of blog posts, one day in particular - 18 months after it happened - made an impact on me. I'm referring to the post with the video I made re-creating my stop at the Cruz de Ferro.

The Cruz de Ferro is an enormous cross along the Camino. Many place objects of love at the base before continuing onward. Others like myself choose to leave a stone brought from back home. These stones are carried from hundreds or thousands of miles away in a pocket or in the backpack, representing the weight - emotional, spiritual, psychological - that holds us down, hurts us, breaks our backs. It might be a small pebble, but over the length of time and miles, we inevitably feel the pain of a boulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The Silence Between the Notes - A Lenten Meditation

Claude Debussy wrote that "music is the silence between the notes".

Sunset silhouette in Altadena

This statement points out that for beauty to be recognized, it needs a certain amount of space, of emptiness, to be complete. The space between the high notes and the low notes, the long and the staccato notes, allows us to hear the breadth of complexity in the music.

The long notes can resonate and reverberate, falling into the hum of the ether around us. The short staccato notes, so piercing and quick, would be a blur if notes melded into each other. Repeated notes would not exist if there was no space in between each note. Without this space, random notes show up and fade away but would likely be more of a texture, a backdrop, an oozing of sound.

A gorgeous impressionist painting can provide smooth colours that ease into other colours, without specificity. Sometimes, like in the photo above, spaces are in the silhouettes, and we only see a shimmer of a sunset with drifting colours in the distance. Other paintings, say by Rothko, have just vague colours. Without detracting from that beauty, it's tough to say what a painting without edges represents or means. It's a representation of emotion in some ways, shifting and drifting.

I sometimes think of heaven as that contourless nirvana where no lines separate one from the other.

And yet we don't live in a world like that. No matter what we try, there will be spaces between the notes and edges to colours. Pointilism in painting (think G Serat) is the use of thousands of tiny dots that from a distance show lovely edgeless fuzziness, but upon closer inspection still shows separate distinct dots. Minimalist music (think P Glass) may repeat and flow, but each note is still separated from the other notes because musicians must breathe and fingers must press, release, or strike an instrument key or string.

Our lives have spaces all around us. We define ourselves from our parents and loved ones by the differences and similarities between us. We are not clones. The space in between brings our separateness alive and makes our lives beautiful.

Likewise, people come into the orchestration of our lives here and there, filling the spaces and gracing us with whatever unique qualities and gifts were given to them.

And, eventually, someone leaves us, leaving only silence and emptiness.

Like some of my friends, I'm grieving over the loss of a dear soul, a loving woman who struck a melodic note in our lives. With her departure, we feel a silence in the music.

And as I'm sure you will understand, though I lament and am yearning for the note to return, I accept and appreciate that our notes, our lives, our loves, our friendships, would not stand out if we didn't have the silence in between. I pray that those who are listening to this silence will appreciate the beauty of both the notes and the rests, the tones and the silences, as we listen and compose the symphony of our lives.

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.

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.





http://letallwhoarethirstycome.blhttp://www.letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2016/02/free-of-stones-lenten-meditation.htmlogspot.com/2016/02/free-of-stones-lenten-meditation.html

Upside Down and Inside Out

A new video from OK GO just got released and it's racing through social media like a viral monster. The effects are gorgeous as the quartet performs, seemingly in one take, the video in weightlessness. No wires. Just a plane with zero gravity.

I watched it a couple of times marveling at the special effects and the joyful playfulness of it all. But I paused it the third time when I started to really pay attention to the lyrics. (The bold lettering is by me).

Upside down and inside out
and you can feel it.
Upside down and inside out
and you can feel it, feel it.
Don't know where your eyes are
but they're not doin' what you said.
Don't know where your mind is baby
but you're better off without it.

Inside down and upside out
and you can feel it.
Don't stop.
Can't stop.
It's like an airplane goin' down.
I wish I had said the things you thought that I had said.
Gravity's just a habit that you're really sure you can't break.

So when you met the new you,
Were you scared?
Were you cold?
Were you kind?
Yeah when you met the new you,
did someone die inside?

Don't stop.
Can't stop.
It's like a freight train.
Don't stop.
Can't stop.
It's like an airplane goin' down.
Don't know where your eyes are
but they're not doin' what you said.
Don't know where your mind is baby
but you're better off without it.

Looks like it's time to decide.
Are you here?
Are you now?
Is this it?
All of those selves that you tried;
wasn't one of 'em good enough?

'cause you're upside down and inside out
and you can feel it.
Inside down and upside out
and you can feel it, feel it.

Don't stop.
Can't stop.
It's like a freight train.
Don't stop.
Can't stop
until you feel it goin' down.
I wish I had said the things you thought that I had said.
Gravity's just a habit that you're really sure you can't break.

Upside down and inside out
And you can feel it
Don't stop
Can't stop
Until you feel it goin' down
Upside down and inside out
And you can feel it
Don't stop
Can't stop
Until you feel it goin' down

I don't usually pause for pop music any more. Showtunes, yes, quite extensively so. But pop music hasn't touched me in years. Perhaps because we're just starting Lent, I'm sensitized. Rev. Susan Russell at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena described during her Ash Wednesday homily that we must not give up epiphanies for Lent. 

Do not give up epiphanies for Lent!
Do not become so inwardly focused that we forget to notice – to give thanks for – to respond to – those encounters we can and will have with the holy in the next 40 days. Do not become so focused on our own “journey with Jesus” that we forget that as long as there are still strangers at the gate, walking humbly with our God is not enough. Not even close to enough.

You can read the full text at ASCIdea,org . I needed to hear that sermon yesterday. So much of Lent is self-focused. When I started serving (taking on) during Lent rather than just giving up, I found myself discovering, "epiphing", so much more that just through introspection. And I needed the reminder because discernment has turned me to reflect on myself far more than normal.

Back to this song. After the awe of the visuals abated, and I listened to the words, I was struck at how important it was to be open to insights and epiphanies. This came at a wonderful time, at the start of Lent, during my discernment process. And I saw it because someone important to me for my discernment shared it online.

With Lent and with discernment, we are in a state of discovery and heightened awareness. Sometimes that process can shock or disturb. Sometimes you feel joy, and other times you need to dive ever deeper into assessing your motives and perceptions. Take the lyrics in this verse:

So when you met the new you,
Were you scared?
Were you cold?
Were you kind?
Yeah when you met the new you,
did someone die inside?

Have I met the new me? YES. This blog wouldn't exist if I didn't feel for the past several years that there's an authentic me yearning to be known, trying to be outward and overt. I pushed it away for years, especially the younger me during the times I was handling issues of sexual orientation. I pushed it away because I felt as though I was meeting a new me.

Was I scared? Yes.

Was I cold? Yes.

Was I kind? Increasingly to others, and yet not to myself.

And, when I met the new me, I was watching someone die inside.

All this is heightened during the contemplative Lenten season.  I see the world in need and I see myself more awake, more humble, more present. I'm no longer speeding through on the freeway of life, but pausing to take a picture and to ponder. But when this persisted outside of Lent, I was facing a changing understanding of me.

I don't think I'm different. I just think I'm recognizing what I'm really all about. Perhaps others have known this. I imagine that this might be why people have tolerated me even when I'm not the kindest, nicest person on the outside. Everyone has a bad day. I feel like I had a bad couple of decades. Lenten reflection and discernment draws me to better see my authentic self. 

It's not technically a new me. 

It's a revealed me.

Looks like it's time to decide.Are you here?Are you now?Is this it?All of those selves that you tried;wasn't one of 'em good enough?

And then this verse drives it home. Like the masks I referred to Ash Wednesday morning ("The Masks Come Off", they come off and we see our mortality, our humanity, our real selves.

WIth Lent or discernment, it's time to explore, but at some point it's time to decide. What do you to do with what you're discovering? Do you move towards a living out what you're discovering?

Do you go and help those who are sick, homeless, in pain?

Do you go and bring justice to those who have been put down?

Do you bring the message of Christ's healing love to those who have long grown cynical and alone.

Or... Do you sit and fall back into your dream state?

I don't intend to fall back asleep. I pray that those walking on a Lenten journey with me or who accompany me on my discernment will help me stay the course. But it's not easy.

Gravity's just a habit that you're really sure you can't break.

Let's look for ways that we together can soar through the heavens, lovingly, playfully, tossing water balloons and breaking pinatas in the sky, and see that our past selves have held us down unnecessarily.

Gravity's just a habit. We can serve others and have fun looking beyond it. Let's go out together this Lent and break our habit.





http://letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2016/02/upside-down-and-inside-out.html

We will return to dust... Meanwhile

Placing the ashes on the foreheads of friends in the congregation had me thinking about our mutual journey.

On Ash Wednesday, we tear the veil that keeps us sane. We acknowledge that we all must die eventually and return to the dust, the stardust, the heavens of which we are made. Will this grand unmasking leave us in an existential void?

Or, can we use this great reminder for something else? Can we, must we take this humbling reality and use it as a salve to heal those around us, as they journey through life? Our voyage will one day land on inevitable shores, but it's in caring for those who walk with us and after us, like those who walked before us, that we pry open the heart to share the grace that is there for us to accept.

The life we must one day surrender is not a life without ramification. We are in a symbiotic relationship with every creature on this earth. We are in a symbiotic relationship with the earth itself. A life without that interdependency is a life not lived.

And, like all relationships where one feeds the other and vice versa, the removal of one of those lives not only does great harm but can endanger or imperil the other. We mutually rely on each other. It's in our successful, healthy living that we can flourish. Together.

So yes, we will return to dust... And yet, meanwhile....

The Christ we follow asks us to be in relationship with each other, in families and in communities. When it was time for him to die, he instructed John to take care of Mary. That's our charge as well. We're to take care of each other as though we are taking care of the mother of Christ, for Christ.

And throughout the Gospels, almost every parable and story talks about His care for the needy and the sick. That's not a coincidence. There would be no miracles if Christ left the sick to fend for themselves. Miracles arise out of caring for the life of the other.

So yes, we face a mortality on Ash Wednesday that weighs on us heavily throughout Lent. We see and acknowledge that our loved ones as well as we ourselves will no longer be able to share an intimate laugh or tear some day. But we must be the healing love that binds our past joys and pains to our future joys and pains. With a little care and perhaps some stitches, the wound of death can still connect the living, breathing tissues left behind.

May we all on this day of dust also remember to be the grace and healing for the our families, for the human family, for the earth.

http://letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2016/02/we-will-return-to-dust-meanwhile.html

The Masks Come Off - An Ash Wednesday Reflection

Lent came early this year. The festivities from Christmas ended abruptly at Candelmas, February 2, and just one week later, we wrap up with Mardi Gras.

Sunset, Mardi Gras, 2016 while walking in Altadena

And now, a few hours after the feasting, the meat, the pancakes, the beads, the booze, the masks, the merriment all are put away. We wrap it up and we look squarely at the 40 day season of penitence called Lent. 

And the masks come off.

Because all that play and fun and food are temporary pleasures. We roam this earth and enjoy these delights, but in the end we all return to the earth. Like Adam. Like every person since, including Jesus. Pauper and prince must one day lie forever more. Like the moon that waxes into fullness, we all eventually must yield and wane.

But like the moon, we don't disappear. We may not be visible, but our presence is felt. Our gravity remains. We can still block out the light of the sun. All without being seen.

Like every year, some of my friends say goodbye to loved ones, friends, parents, and it's never easy. We don't want to let go and we hope that they stay with us forever. But it's impossible to do this. We're of the earth and we must return. It rips me apart saying goodbye or watching others do so. But it's our fate as human beings

As you enter this Lenten season, let me help you take off your mask, as I take off mine. The word "sincere" comes from the Greek and means "without mask". Let's take off these masks and look at each other in true sincerity.

Let's appreciate and love our respective humanity, both of each other and all our brothers and sisters who roam this mysterious world. Let the Spirit that animates us shine forth in our eyes, like the stars that shine around an unseen moon, moving us and guiding us towards that precious dance we know as life.

http://letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2016/02/the-masks-come-off-ash-wednesday.html

Don't Speak

There's a wonderful line in the movie and Broadway play "Bullets over Broadway". Whenever the young writer, played by John Cusack, tries to express his infatuation with the veteran movie actress (Diane Wiest), she pushes her hand into his face, smushing his eyeglasses, and blocks him mouth. She says this while melodramatically saying "Don't speak. Don't speak! Don't speak."

You may notice that there are times when I don't post things to my blog. It's not that I have little to say. I think most people are shocked whenever I express such a thought. No, I'm simply in a mode of listening rather than speaking, of tuning in rather than merely hearing.

Listening isn't the same thing as hearing after all. You have the sense of hearing at all times, even in your sleep. You may not be responding on a conscious level, but the ear drums are responding and the brain is detecting auditory signals. But you're not listening by default.

To listen is to take in the sounds and to incorporate them into your active mind. You may be processing, remembering, reacting, or all three. When I listen, I'm surprised at times with what I have been hearing, with what I was not processing just moments ago, not remembering, not reacting.

And life sometimes moves us in a direction where we're so knocked around that we don't have the mental legroom to go the extra mile and actually listen to what our ears are telling us. We're busy planning, judging, and explaining.

So sometimes, when I feel as though I've reached a point of saturation, I realize that I might not actually be listening.

And listening isn't just with our ears. Have you ever clanged a gong, a glass, a bell and listened to the resonating sound? Have you done so while holding that object? You may notice that the object continues to vibrate, well past the moment that you stopped hearing the sound.

Our bodies feel things, hear things, grasp things without our ears. All our senses contribute to our ability to take in the external world. Our cerebral mind may be too busy to cope with all that input, so it filters out things that it deems extraneous. Feedback that might be redundant. Sounds that might be irrelevant. Sights that might be unremarkable.

So with our entire physical being, we go through life not "listening to what we hear". Or, perhaps it's not "noticing what we our senses have found".

And in those times I feel overwhelmed, I pause and breathe. I walk. I dispel the words coming out of my mouth that block me from listening to the rhythms of life, from seeing the child of God before me, from feeling the heartbeat of the Holy Spirit.

And I kick myself off my comfortable place, sit perched and alert, watch, listen, feel.

And I don't speak.



http://letallwhoarethirstycome.com/2016/01/dont-speak.html

Advent Meditation - Reading the Leaves

I've always walked and hiked a lot, especially in the past few years. I've realized that I notice more in the world and have more opportunities to reflect on things going on in my life when I go outside, putting one foot in front of the other.

The other day, during this cool December month, I was walking just after sunrise, noting the whiff of firewood from the night before, and found myself gazing at a large maple tree down the street from my home. I know this tree well, as it stands in front of a small house and is naturally decked out at this time of year with exhilarating autumn colors. I stared at the shimmering golden maple leaves, and the unraked layers scattered around the base. As I got closer, feet crunching on fallen foliage, I was struck by an odd vision. Two or three leaves were spinning wildly as they clung to the branches. They were twirling in the wind, trembling, vibrating on the bare twigs.

What made me take notice of these particular leaves was the obvious contrast to the other thousands of others on that tree. The other golden forms were perfectly stationary, as though in a painting. Motionless. Oblivious to those two or three quaking ones just a few feet away. I thought, "Oh, I actually might be able catch these spinning leaves just as they fall away to the ground - a perfect autumn moment on my walk." So I stepped towards the tree and gazed at the shivering ones hoping to catch them in the act of falling. I came to a stop on the lawn below the leaves. I watched and waited to see a spectacle that admittedly is repeated millions of times a day this time of year, but would be seen only by me, at this moment, at this place.

But it didn't happen, at least not in the way that I expected. As it turns out, as I was staring at the twirlers, I saw out of the corner of my eye an unexpected movement. I turned my head, and one of those motionless leaves broke off and started to drift downwards, wafting this way and that, before gently landing on the damp ground below. It was one of the stronger leaves that fell. I looked up, and the spinning leaves still quivered manically in the wind. I looked up and the stationary ones still remained motionless.

So I got to see a leaf fall. What I saw was what I wanted to see, what I waited to see, but it wasn't how I expected to see it. 

And as I took a couple of steps back towards the street, one last shape caught my attention. I saw pigtails and two large blue eyes. It was as though a young child - straight out of central casting to play the role of Cindy Lou Who, the tiniest tot on the Grinch Who Stole Christmas - was gazing out the front window of the modest home. Her head was propped on her hands, her elbows planted on a sofa, her big round eyes staring at the tree. It seems she hadn't noticed me.

I'm not certain what she was looking at, what she was waiting for. Did she want to see the leaves fall as well? Was she wondering where her Mom and Dad had gone to at this hour? Perhaps she was wondering what was for breakfast. But she was waiting and watching up towards the tree. But as I started my departure, she moved her head suddenly, surprised to see someone else there with her. Of course, I was concerned that I had startled her. But she just tilted her head slightly and smiled. She smiled broadly, with innocence and gentleness.

Advent is a season where we often run around madly, racing from one store to the next store, or from one e-store to the next e-store, staring at our phones as we wait in line. We do it because we want to make Christmas special for the ones we love, those who are planted in our lives. We do extra shopping, decorating, cooking on top of our normal chores, with work and family commitments. We spin around the city and it's a wonder we just don't collapse. That we don't fall to the damp ground below. Yet we somehow hang on. And our joys almost always come from unexpected ways. 

We're asked to spend Advent waiting for the baby Jesus. We're asked to be alert, to be watchful, with childlike innocence and wonder. It can often be challenging, if we let our attention drift in the wind to this mall and that concert, to this show and that party.  

May Advent keep us all awake at the sunrise, alert, in a state of wonder, head in our hands, staring out the window for something that perhaps only we can see, perhaps something we all can share. And may it surprise us with meaning far greater than we ever expected.