finding direction Archives

I’m sipping a glass of wine (a tempranillo, got to prepare for my Camino!), and eating a small bowl of potato chips. At some point along the Camino, potato chips became my go-to snack (I don’t think this counts as tapas) to go along with a glass of wine. I think it was my friend Mirra who first introduced me to this combination, when we took a bottle of Rioja and a bag of papas fritas down to the banks of a river in Najera, to sit and talk and stretch out our legs after a long day of walking.

In the last week or so, I’ve been consumed with memories from the first portion of my walk on the Camino. I think it’s because everyone’s on the Camino, these days: blog friends and Philadelphia Camino friends and even a real-life Camino friend, from last year. They’re posting blog posts and photos- “I made it over the Pyrenees!”, and “Here’s Belorado in the rain” and “Passed through the small, quaint village of Ages”.

I’ve loved seeing these updates; I click on every photo so it enlarges on my screen, and I press my face in close to examine the image for the tiny details that I might have forgotten, to peer at each stretch of road, knowing that I walked the same path nearly a year ago. It almost makes me want to return to the Frances, to walk that road again.

But it’s too soon to go back to that particular path, not yet anyway. The Norte is still my plan for June, although I have to say- this year’s preparations and anticipations are completely different from what I experienced last year.

Maybe that’s one reason this blog has been a little quiet. I assumed that by now, I’d have a lot to write about- my training and the things I’ll be packing and my thoughts and impressions of a second Camino. I’ve had so many thoughts, but they’re all still muddled up there in my head. Sometimes, I still wonder if I shouldn’t be spending the month in France, writing, instead of walking. Sometimes I worry that I’m going back to look for something I never found on the first Camino, something I can’t even identify. Sometimes I think I want a re-do of certain aspects from the end of my Camino. Sometimes I think that if I had figured out more about my life in this past year, I wouldn’t feel the need to go back for another Camino.

But a lot of those thoughts are based in fear and control, aren’t they? I still want to choose the exact, perfect thing to do this summer, the thing that will help me out the most in my life, the thing that will point me in the “right” direction. Nothing I do this summer will really give me that, of course, and finding direction is just about taking steps towards something- anything- and then figuring it out as you move along. And in this past year, I’ve been doing that. I just need to keep moving, and practice some patience.

So that’s been my word, lately. Patience. I tell this to myself as I sit in a long line of traffic on the way to work. I tell this to myself as I hurry through the last miles of a training hike, my voice saying, “Slow down. Not amount of rushing will bring this Camino any closer.” I try to practice patience as I look through photos of friends on their Camino, envious of their days spent walking through Spain. I try to practice patience with my writing, as I wait to hear back about an essay I’ve submitted, as I wait to find the right words to say something.

And maybe the biggest is this: practicing patience about the direction of my life. I’ll get to wherever I’m going, I’m sure of it. I want to be there NOW, I want to have all the answers to so many of the questions. I know that I’m going to be okay, and yet, I just want a flash of an image from my life, 5 years from now, of the 39 (yikes) year old me. Just a little reassurance that the decisions I’m making now, the things I’m testing out now, are going to lead me somewhere good.

So in the meantime I’m just going to keep trucking along- drinking my wine and eating my potato chips, hiking miles through a park, practicing Spanish phrases, writing my essays and making to-do lists for my next Camino. Despite the unknowns, these are such good and beautiful days.

A single step feels both enormous and insignificant. Whether it’s an actual footstep, the beginning action of something, a small part of a process or even a decision to start; it’s one step. It takes stringing the steps together, putting one foot in front of the other over and over again, day in and day out- often tirelessly- to get somewhere. To create something. To change one thing in your life. To change your entire life.

This isn’t easy. Playing the piano or speaking French. Running 3 miles or writing a book. Falling in love or building a relationship. It is not enough to begin, you need to keep going every day. Continue to do the work and keep taking steps.

It’s so easy to slow down, or to take a day off. Then a week off. Just like that, it’s too cold outside to run. I think that I’ll have more energy tomorrow. And suddenly, it feels easier to imagine writing than it does to actually write, because writing means having something to say. And what if I have nothing to say?

And sometimes, life gets in the way. Situations we don’t plan for, unexpected changes, endings and beginnings.

I feel like I’ve had a lot of endings and beginnings in the last several years. Times when I ask myself, “Now what?”

I’m at one of those times now, and not just because it’s a new year. I’m still in my apartment, in my town, in my job. But the direction I thought my life was taking suddenly veered off course, and I’m left with needing to figure out not only a new plan, but a new direction for my future.

The only answer I can come up with to the question of- “How do you figure out your life direction when you don’t know where to go?” is: start taking steps.

I want to string together enough steps so I can get myself somewhere, even if, right now, I’m not sure where that should be. Once I start moving, I think I might find some answers.

After the vagueness about taking steps and life changes and finding direction, here is something concrete: I want to take a walk this summer. A 500 mile walk.

There is a network of ancient pilgrimage routes leading to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain; these routes are called El Camino de Santiago, or, The Way of St. James. The most popular route is the Camino Francés, beginning in France and stretching 780 km to Santiago.

People walk for many reasons: a religious or spiritual journey, a test of physical endurance, a mental and emotional challenge, a great adventure. Some walk only parts of the route, some bike, some (a few) even bring donkeys.

I don’t know what the Camino will look like for me, and I don’t even know if I will be able to do it. Not only is there a question of time and money, but there’s a question of whether I can walk 6-10 hours a day for 30-40 days. Can my body handle the steps it takes to walk 500 miles? Can my mind handle it?

These are questions I want to try to answer. I’m asking myself a lot of questions lately, and I’m seeking direction. Maybe I’m even seeking my path, and the Camino feels like a good place to begin.

And even though I’m not on the path yet, I’m taking my first steps now. I want to talk about the idea of this journey- the reasons I want to walk and the planning it will require, the obstacles I’ll face and the adventure of it all. Maybe throughout this I’ll find my direction. At the very least, I hope I find a few good stories.

The Good and Beautiful Days of Patience

A Single Step

Inspiration

Camino Packing List