Hiding place for the holy

One of my favorite parts about walking (including a good bit of wandering and roving) the Portuguese Camino, is that I approvingly have no idea where my mind (thoughts or spirit) is heading on any particular day. And consequently, no idea what I may be writing for Sabbath Moment. And then, I smile real big, and stop giving myself angst, as if Sabbath Moment is an overdue assignment.

My walk has gratefully evoked one of my very favorite stories. The first-grade class was given an assignment; to name the seven wonders of the world. Each student compiles a list, and shares their list, aloud, with the class. There is ardent interaction as the students call out entries from their lists: The Pyramids, the Empire State Building, the Amazon River, Yellowstone National Park, the Grand Canyon, the Taj Mahal and the list goes on. The teacher serves the role of cheerleader, “Class, these are great answers. Well done!”
One girl sits silent. She is asked about her list. She says, “I don’t think I understand the assignment.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have any of the right answers,” she tells the teacher.
“Well, why don’t you tell us what you wrote on your paper, and we’ll help you.” the teacher encourages her.
“Okay,” says the little girl, “I think the seven wonders of the world are… to see, to hear, to touch, to feel, to laugh, to love, to belong.”
So. When I am asked: What did you do on your Portuguese Camino journey?
My answer: I have tasted and savored the seven wonders of the world.

And my journey is not yet complete, Santiago still a handful of days, or so, away. This is not surprising as I’ve “left the trail” a handful of times, in little villages, to spend some time wandering and exploring. It does my heart good.
Bottom line: I don’t have a timetabled arrival date.
On my walk, I’ve been carrying Howard Thurman’s reminder, “There must be always remaining in every life, some place for the singing of angels, some place for that which in itself is breathlessly beautiful.”
Yes, a Camino walk to embrace the ordinary, knowing it is the hiding place for the holy.

Although, here’s my confession: it is not always easy to live “in the present”. You know, one step at a time.
And here’s a Camino lesson I’ve been working on for a good while: the permission to let go of “scripts.” You know where we are supposed to be, and why.
Which raises the question about where our scripts come from, and why they are so important. What is it that we tether ourselves to? Some kind of necessity for arrival, I’m guessing. Like four-year-olds, five minutes out of the driveway on any family trip, “Are we there yet?”
There is no doubt that this is a token from my upbringing, in a religious tradition that emphasized “God’s perfect will.” And you don’t want to be out of that, as your life would quite literally, have no meaning. And it was a question we would be asked, so often in church, “Have you found God’s perfect will?” Wow. No crazy pressure there…
But smiling now, wondering what kind of God would link grace and love and acceptance to a stressed and forced performance?

Regarding scripts, another observation when you travel, everyone wants a review. I kinda get it. “How did we do?” And you quickly learn the litany of review options. What is acceptable, what is exceptional, what is unacceptable?
And there is a scale with numbers, zero to whatever. And you judge your experience with that number.
I can see how that mindset leeches into so many parts of our lives. Even walking the Camino, on different stages, or on some days, deliberating if this part of the walk is a “better number” than others.
But here’s what I know: when I give into a script, or any way of keeping score, it is so easy to lose, and give up on, joy. And gladness. And gratitude. And yes, the singing of angels.
On my journey (without the script), there are questions I didn’t expect to stick with me. Did you see the blooms on the calla lily?
Or the way the charmed rock walls weather, after their second and third and fourth century?
I have done my best to focus on blisters and socks and pain cream etc., which is all very good (and we see very soon what we didn’t need, and what we forgot to pack)… but, did you see the curative power of setting your backpack down, to light a prayer candle, in chapels and cathedrals along the way?
This morning, I spent a bit of time in the Iglesia de San Francisco (here in Pontevedra, Spain). A time to sit, and let my mind and heart settle. And then yes, to light a candle, in memory of loved ones, and for those who now (and still) gratefully help walk me home.
In Christian churches, the symbolism of light is central. From Judaism, we learned about the perpetual light that was kept burning in the Temple and synagogues, to show the presence of God. Now, in lighting a candle for someone we extend our prayers, and with the light, show solidarity with another person. Yes, we are walking one another home.
I was asked, “But do you believe this makes a difference?” Oh my. Truthfully, I don’t know what all I believe, but I do believe that there is a grace and sacred presence that carries my doubt and uncertainty, and helps guide my way.
Bottom line: savoring all the “little stuff”, along the Camino, has been healing for me.
(And for trivia buffs, Pontevedra means “the old bridge” named for the old Roman bride across the Lerez River. Which I did walk, yes.)

I do enjoy the small hotels, in the towns in Portugal and in Spain along the way. On some of the mornings, having your espresso (or espressos), you see other Camino travelers, prepping for their day. We say hello, and exchange brief words, and wish one another well. But it’s not about telling our story to one another, as much as just acknowledging that we are on this journey. And some day, we may need one another.
It’s why I love the simple “Buen Camino.”

Onward. And oh, and I realize how odd it has been, to not have any animals to preach to along the way. And then today, I see a flock of sheep, so paused a wee bit with them, to practice my Spanish.

Our Camino quote…
“‪Its important to remind yourself that this is not a race. Do what you can do today. You will get to where you are going. Progress happens in layers. ‬” Audrey Kitching

For those Monday readers who want to see the daily writings from the Camino last week, they are available here on my website.