Camino 2016 5/18 - zero to 45.39

Google maps said 37 km. Well, it wasn't and the street signs were corroborating me. This was already going to be the longest day of this Camino at 37 km (my mean last time was 35 and I'm intentionally pushing pushing pushing down the number so that I can have more time to talk and be intentionally rested). But given odd measurements and blatantly wrong directions I ended up walking 45.39km.

The most I ever did was 42 and 41. The 45.39 is equivalent to 28.2 miles ( or running a marathon and dropping your car keys a mile before the ending and having to go back and get them).

But what a day.

I started the day with a Psalm reading filled with promise of trust, which I guess I knew subconsciously but had forgotten when I wrote yesterday's blog.  The reading got me in and up and chipper mood. So chipper that I nearly whacked a mole off shaving this morning.

This led to a bloody scene that looked like I was in a fight at Lourdes and the Virgin won. As I walked for two hours it continually bled. I had no bandages on me small enough to go between my nose and lip. Finally a pharmacist was opened and I got some along the way. Just in time for me to relax and enjoy the show.

God went to town in France and it's a reason I've always loved the countryside. Flowers everywhere. Water abundant. Green grounds and yet snow just a few feet above my head further up the Pyrenees.

I had a mild dose of rain but it didn't last long. Sure during I was grumpy. But rather, I saw and smelled and appreciated what was there for us. I kept thinking of how life can be so under appreciated so easily. 

Later when I thought of the kyrie in my prayers for today, I thought of all those who we lost and didn't see this. Or are still here but act lost; they don't see this. They drive on by. 

By the time I was reaching exhaustion, I thought "Ok to heck with all this abundance." But I didn't mean it. I was just tired and cranky. I can tell because I still would stop to take a lovely picture that God had painted.

And part of my crankiness was that I didn't get surprisingly healthy all of a sudden just to pass out from exhaustion. That's not healthiness at all; that's willfulness and exploiting your own good fortune. And like all good fortune it sometimes runs out.

For us to heal, individually and collectively, we need to be aware of our abundance, truly aware, and be ok when we get tired of being sick as well as exhausted being healthy. 

I'd say more but I'm too tired. 

Perhaps let me close paraphrasing the New Zealand book of Common Prayer: "What's done is done, what's left undone is left undone. Let it be." May you have a restful evening.  

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Camino 2016 05/17 - Healing and Trust

Healing and trust go together. Sometimes it's hard to imagine trusting anyone or anything any more, but I really had to trust. I approached last night thinking that my first few days on my Camino were imperiled. I have a foot that aches, and now a fever and cold.

But everyone was praying for me. With that kind of love, I felt like I could go to sleep with the rest of trusting in God and everyone's prayers.

The fever broke last night. Now it's not in the league of miracles that have been documented here in Lourdes. But I was thrilled. Thrilled ... and not surprised. Thrilled because I knew I could rest assured last night, and not surprised because I felt warmed by the blanket of love surrounding me.

And that trust blossoms. Take the cold I had when I recorded this video. It shows last night's procession of lights on a time lapse. The 30 second video was over the span of an hour and you can see sunset turning into dusk. During that time I thought I was going to give in and have to take a cab. But the procession itself strengthened me, for seeing the wheelchairs gave me resolve.

https://youtu.be/2WgQWRHFEKg

When I awoke today, I felt different and not just because the fever broke. I felt excited but calm. I went straight to the piscine (bath) where, in a baptism-like practice, we are given the chance to pray then be immersed in the Lourdes water. Now no denying it: that water was cold. And someone online suggested that the cold broke my fever, though I knew the fever was gone earlier. But like she suggested, the cold water wasn't bad. It was invigorating. It enlivened me. And most of all, it felt liberating.

I met up with JJ, a friend of Carminnie back home. We met to eat dinner and drink at a local Filipino place that I had seen yesterday. He has done all and parts of the Camino several times so it's natural that we were brought together. His work here at the basilica has been deep and I'm grateful for this new friendship. 

At tonight's procession, when it came time for Hail Mary to be said aloud in English, I found myself doing something I never considered. As I led the prayer with its song song rhythm - identical in most languages - I oddly found myself comfortable , as though this made sense for me to stand there in the dark, my voice leading prayer.

And yet it wasn't healing. It didn't feel like healing. You know what felt like healing? Healing is when the pharmacist wished me Buen Camino for throat lozenges that I didn't actually use. Or when the Italian attendant at the piscine said the same thing to me. 

Healing was leaving some of Tim's ashes near the grotto, on the path that Bernadette Soubirous took to see Mary and discover the healing waters of Lourdes. I prayed for the healing he always sought but cancer cut short. And I prayed for the family. That felt like healing.  And the healing was when Tim's younger brother Stephen - my Stephen - texted that he got teary eyed by my text and the photo.

Healing is going through the day resting as much as possible even though I felt fine today. I would go to services and then return to rest. It felt good. I felt the power of life more strongly as I sat or lay resting in sleep, in prayer, in thought.

I leave tomorrow at sunrise on a pilgrimage of reconciliation and healing. Your words have opened my eyes and heart so much already. Lourdes has been a marvelous place, a trusting place, a miraculous place, to find some healing. May we taste the waters of Lourdes in all our lives. 

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Camino 2016 05/16 - Healing and sickness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

Camino 2016 05/14 - God is still painting

Took the train to Vernon and walked to Giverny 4 miles each way. Monet lived there and his famed water lilies works were painted while looking at his pond.

I went because as Pentecost approaches, I wanted my eyes to be opened. The impressionists looked at the same things we did but they "saw" things differently. More importantly, they discovered a way to translate what they saw into a way we could understand.

Isn't that the message of Pentecost?

The Holy Spirit descended upon the apostles, inspiring, blessing, charging, and gifting them with ways to share the message of God. That's why we call it the birthday of the Church. It's when we were given not just our homework assignments but also the tools needed to do so.

And the impressionists to me show light transcendent and yet immanent. It's as though light comes from within while the light shines from afar. And I, looking at those paintings, I become that much more certain that God is still speaking. And that, that's why we go on pilgrimage: to see and understand in ways we never heard or envisioned before. God is still painting for us.

May the Holy Spirit visit you on Pentecost with images and colours, messages and words, hunger and a way to feed others. And as She alights on us, may she set our light free.

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Camino 2016 05/13 - Chartres Labyrinth & St Jacques Tower

The labyrinth is an ancient symbol of pilgrimage and journey. The Chartres labyrinth was a tool often used by those who could not make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Chartres Cathedral, one which floor the labyrinth is found, also is known for its exquisite blue stained glass windows, from which we get the word Chartreuse.

I returned here to start my Camino with one of the most famous pilgrimage symbols worldwide. The journey, physical and spiritual, is encapsulated in the labyrinth. You wind this way and that, ever closer, ever further, not sure when you arrive. And when you arrive, do you really? You have to trace your steps back to leave. It's a journey to the center, the heart, and it leaves you perhaps in the same physical place but with a different experimental reality.

Since this is a healing focused pilgrimage, I realized how important it was to come. I wanted to acknowledge my privilege that I can make this journey and go for those who cannot, to be the labyrinth and walk with those who would if only they could.

The cathedral remains under construction so I at first was disappointed that I could not walk the labyrinth. I did, however, sit on the exposed parts and did a prayer for all of us on this journey. I also was wearing my Labyrinth shirt and traced the path with my finger tip. It's also a charm on my rosary which is on my daypack should I feel moved while walking.

It dawned upon me that the construction and restoration was a gift. Just as we are walking for healing and reconciliation, so too must the tools and symbols we use for such healing. The cathedral must be restored for it to offer assistance to others. So to must I. 

And the fact that I could not walk the labyrinth just meant that I too must journey virtually with you. A pilgrimage isn't just a physical, somewhat tourist, expedition. It must reach deep and we must let it.

So I continued to the St Jacques tower in Paris to mark my journeys start. There was once a tremendous church near the Louvre across from Notre Dame Cathedral on the Rive Droit dedicated to St James the apostle. St James is St Jacques is Santiago (St Iago). It was destroyed during the French Revolution but the tower remains.

I sat at the park, said the pilgrim's prayer, and began to feel the weight of my expedition. I'm excited that I'm walking but even more so, excited and humbled, that you're walking with me.

So thank you. With you, Mary, and St James beside me, with Christ's restorative love as my focal point, and with the Holy Spirit guiding me, I am strengthened and given courage to journey. Merci. Merci.

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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.