I’m so happy! WTF

I'm familiar with depression. Not major depression. More like ennui. It has kept me from diving in a lot. I walk around the edges and dip my toe in most of the time. When it comes to exercise, I tend to try to find the least impactful activity. Anyway... I've been walking the Portuguese Camino and, because my partner has had some health complications, I've been walking it alone. I was so reluctant to do this, that I postponed it for nearly two weeks and spent a lot of unnecessary time and money doing it. Just stupid shit to entertain the time, but no burning desire to actually do the tours and restaurants. I don't really love planning for the next thing. Probably because I'm not really one for absolutely knowing what I enjoy. If someone asks me, "what do you want to do?" I seldom have a sure and confident response. More like, "I don't know. What do you want to do?". That’s not always a bad thing. I’ve experienced a lot from other peoples’ coat tails.  Anyway…walking is simple enough to save me from making any decisions. I just put one foot in front of the other. How hard is that, right? The nice surprise is that I'm just blown away by how good it feels. I'm sure a big part of it is being on an ancient path walked by millions of people over thousands of years seeking spiritual enlightenment. But the process is so satisfying. I just walk, chant my mantra and listen to my music. and suddenly, everything else falls away. All the noise in my head of shoulds and plans and worries disappear and to replace it is the amazing beauty of dew sparkling on leaves, mist in the morning, birds flitting from branches, just writing it all sounds really cliche, but it feels so fucking awesome. Suddenly I find myself laughing at a man playing catch with his dog or a cat staring me down while sitting on a sunny stone wall, her sleepy eyes slipping in and out of her own meditation. I honestly don't get it. I'm 62. Why haven't I been doing this all along? Why don’t I realize how good this feels? And then I stop and the feeling goes away. I slip back into my old pattern of planning and worrying and ennui. My brain wants to keep walking, but my body...well that's a whole other story.

Acceptance?

When I started my Portuguese Camino, I reflected on what I would like to ponder on my long walk. The concept of acceptance immediately occured to me. I knew that I had been grappling with it in my recent life and I thought pondering it while I walked would be helpful and beneficial. 

 Boy oh boy, have I had a crash course in acceptance! It all started with insomnia. Probably from jet lag. Okay, I thought as I lay WIDE AWAKE the first night before we began to walk, this is a test. Can I accept that I'm going to be dead tired as I walk my first 12 miles? I guess I'll have to, right? Not gonna stop now. So we took off and dropped our bags off for transport.

 Little did I know that the place we left our bags didn't have a live human to receive them. So, there we are with our bags and no one to receive them. The bag transport company assured us that they had access to that guest house and we could leave our bags there. Of course, we had no way in, until we grabbed the door as someone left the building. BIG MISTAKE! HUGE!. Which we were told by an angry woman who told us we were lucky she didn't just send our bags off to the authorities. 

The bag SNAFU was taken care of, but not without a bunch of fear and stress on my part. 

Accepting that I made a big mistake was one part of the struggle and accepting that I might get what I deserved was a whole other part. 

Thanks to the kindness of Emmanuel at our next guesthouse, we were guided through the difficult process of retrieving our bags with a hefty fee of 40 euros. 

 Now for the big finale. I'm blissfully walking along the Camino, seeing beautiful ocean vistas and watching my brave husband in more and more pain. The walk was not kind to him. His back was in spasm and every step of bliss for me was accompanied with him wincing in pain. He rallied for two days and finally we came to accept that we were not meant to walk any more Camino. Not without serious injury. So, accepting that ending the Camino was best for both of us has been my next lesson in acceptance. It has been difficult and a huge shift in our plans.

When I have visited ashrams, I have learned that the universe puts obstacles in your path to help you learn in that sacred setting. The Camino is like an ashram for me. In this short journey I have learned a few lessons about acceptance. 

Perhaps a day may come when I walk the Portugese Camino, but today is not that day. 

 Shortest blog ever!

Seriously

My first Portuguese Camino blog is about breasts. Please stop now if you don't want to read about my obsession with them. On my last Camino, I politely brought a bra. Then I burned it while trying to dry it in an albergue microwave. I was secretly delighted to have melted the damn thing. I am 62 and have grown to really abhor bras. They are so uncomfortable. They are sticky, and sweaty and really hard to keep from slipping and sliding off my shoulder. I have arthritic shoulders, so they are literally painful to latch in the back. I have given myself permission to not wear one on this walk. In fact, I didn't even bring one. It's not a statement. I'm not trying to do anything but feel better while I'm walking and sweating. So here's the problem. The other thing I'm uncomfortable with is what others think of me. I care way too much about the approval of others. I don't need even be told of their disapproval, I just fill in the thoughts that I think they are having. It can be exhausting. Today, as I walked, I found myself thinking about my breasts way more than I should have. I noticed that I looked at other women and wondered whether they had bras on. I would have felt a bit of relief to see more braless women. But why should that even matter? I wondered if someone was thinking mean thoughts about my choice. I wondered if I was being judged. This is especially ridiculous because I really don't know what other people are thinking. I've been told that what other people think is none of my business. So, here's my pathetic dilemna. How do I accept my own decision and allow myself to move freely through the world without a relentless conversation with strangers. Don't misunderstand. I'm not baring my naked breasts to the world. I'm just wearing loose shirts that seem perfectly appropriate to me. That's the thing. I'm so uncomfortable wearing a bra, that being braless is frequently worth the angst. Shouldn't that be all that matters? I don't look at others and judge them for wearing or not wearing anything. I really don't. In fact, I find it refreshing and interesting to see how others dress. This is an in my head kinda problem. It's also illuminating that I'm having a wonderful adventure through Portugal on a path that millions of women have walked for thousands of years and I'm thinkg about this. I wonder if women wore bras back then and I wonder if a few of them wanted to shed their bras as well.

Adventure begins again

We are off to Portugal to start a brand new adventure. These ol' bodies are not really ready, but our minds are "evolved" and I've learned that we all walk our own Camino. My Camino will hopefully involve lots of pasteis de nata and meia de leite. (gotta learn that pronounciation by heart).  

Truthfully, I'm looking forward to the simple ritual of waking, walking, eating and sleeping. I'm excited to shed the daily noise of my life and sink into the quiet rhythm of my steps. I suspect that noise will not immediately quiet, as my thoughts carry all the noise along with me. It's been a challenging few years for everyone and I'm one of everyone. It’s always a little challenging packing up and leaving behind, but our send off was beautiful with a delightful family dinner. Now I sit and wait for the unknown to become known. 

We start in Porto. Our plan is to acclimate for a day and then start the coastal route. But we are both open to change and acceptance is my mantra for this trip. God knows I need more of it!

Religion...In Retrospect

Growing up, I questioned my religion when the priest told my mom not to come to church unless she wore a dress. I questioned it further when the church condemned Disney films because the voice of Pumba was played by a gay actor. I rejected religion when the priest told my mother that my sister was going to hell because she didn't have a Greek Orthodox funeral.

Then of course there is all the cruelty and hate in the name of religion. And the horrific stories about Catholic schools from my friends.

So, why a pilgrimage to the cathedral of St. James? I wondered this every step of The Way. As I chanted my Sanskrit phrases and practiced mindful presence, I still wondered each time I entered a church and saw the painful imagery of Christ on the cross. I wondered out loud with the devout Christians I met. I didn't judge...most of the time.

I grew to admire the simple devout attention small villages gave to caring for and honoring their churches. I saw the candles and the small bouquets by the blessed virgin. I admired the beautiful artistry of the cathedrals.

But I just kept walking and stopped wondering after awhile. After all, it wasn't hurting me to explore other peoples’ religious beliefs and practices. I didn't mind wondering.

I did wonder about what it might be like when we arrived at Santiago. Would I have a religious awakening? Drop to my knees like others have done? Sobbed deeply for the forgiveness of my sins?

The final day of our journey was very different than I expected. We were a day behind some of our most special Camino companions. So when Tim texted me the photo of Olivia, Sandra, Dolf and, of course, his son, Josh. I felt deep regret that I wasn't there with them.

So much regret, that John and I agreed to walk our hardest, greatest distance that day in order to join them all for a celebratory dinner that night in the Plaza of the Cathedral of Santiago, the resting place of the apostle, James.

For the Camino walk, I brought a tee shirt that I got from a visit to Amma, the hugging saint of India. It has a quote from her on the front…”My Religion is Love”. So, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my greatest sacrifice of effort was not in order to see the remains of St. James, but in order to see the sweet faces of those with whom I shared the journey.

We gathered together at a great long table and shared stories of our own pilgrimages. We laughed and...I was deeply moved to hear the profound meaning this trip had for several of my friends.

For myself, I remain an even more devout follower of the religion of love.

Vicissitudes, Ennui, Angst and WTF.

It started with a sniffle and before he knew it, he had a full-fledged cold. So I wasn't surprised when John suggested that we take a day of “rest”.

One might think that with all my recent love and enlightenment from walking the Camino, that a day of rest is no big deal. What's wrong with being trapped in a hotel room with nothing but Wi-Fi and Facebook! Give these tired muscles a break. Except, of course, for the one between my ears.

At first I just chilled and scrolled through my newsfeed. Then, there is the feed from N.Y. Times and so on and so on. That starts to get old, but it managed to lower my vibration enough to get me THINKING.

Why am I doing this Camino anyway? Me and my middle class lifestyle. This is such a first world adventure. How many refugees walk because they have to … to survive!

I'm taking weeks off from work to WALK? What kind of work ethic is that? What am I really doing with my life? Does any of this really matter?

Then there is more of the endless stream of news and newsfeed and food porn and opinions about politics and will I have HEALTH INSURANCE? Will we go to war with North Korea? How do I compare to him or her or those fascinating people doing fascinating things?

Then there is the self doubt. And the self criticism and the purpose of life thoughts. 

This morning John felt better. Hallelujah! We started walking. Hallelujah! My mind stopped spinning. Hallelujah!

As we walked I shared my “rest” day thoughts with John. He helped me to find some lovely perspective. “What if this walk isn't about anything? What if it's just about being here...feeling the cool air...the rhythm of our steps?”

Then I saw a little road sign along the way and I burst into laughter.

Extra Baggage

When you walk a long time, things begin to feel very heavy...extremely heavy! A chapstick becomes heavy...a cell phone weighs a ton.

When I packed, I had a 14 lb limit, but I cheated and brought along a few extra things. Stuff I thought I couldn't live without. I ended up with 15.5 lbs. I assumed I could handle just an extra pound and a half. I mean, that's nothing...but when you walk a long time…

So...as my rhomboids and erectors began to throb and spasm, I began to see every little thing as a lead weight that I was dragging along the Camino.

I've heard that the secret to enlightenment is non-attachment...I also think that's the secret to lightenment. So the first thing I let go of was my bra!. I had burned it while trying to dry it in a microwave, so it was already pretty messed up, but it took me a week to fully realize that my modesty (or vanity) wasn't important enough to lug that thing around with me.

But baggage has meaning. A week ago we (John, me and my rhomboids) finally came to the decision that we wanted to send one of our bags ahead and just share carrying one bag while we walked. Yes. It's wonderful. Our bag just magically appears at the next albergue we plan to stay at.

A good decision.

So...the reasonable thing is for each of us to equally carry the other bag while we walked. But reasonable is not always the hallmark of a loving relationship.

John, my hero, has insisted on carrying the bag most of the time. Yes, there is guilt, but he reminds me that he is doing it because he loves me. More guilt...nope...fuck guilt. I have chosen to graciously receive his love! I mean, love isn't measured through negotiations. It’s not an “if you do this then…”

I struggled with this gift from John. I still do and I do sometimes carry the bag...but not nearly as much as him.

Accepting and receiving your partner’s love and kindness matters. And realizing that he WANTS to do it...matters.

So when I was walking and from behind I heard a couple singing “BINGO”, I wondered if that was a new hip song in Spain. As they passed, I saw, what looked like a skyscraper tent on the man’s back and I realized they were joyfully singing to their CHILD, who was their “extra baggage” along the Camino. That dad was carrying at least an extra 15 lbs and he was singing joyfully. Clearly it was a labor of love.

I recall that what a child experiences in the first two years of life is deeply formative. So this little guy is experiencing beautiful mountains, the rhythm of his parents’ footsteps, wind through wheat fields and so much more. What a generous gift and I'm sure it brings both of those parents deep joy and pleasure to know this.

Deep love and gratitude wins today!