future Archives - Nadine Walks

Fall, as a season, is a transition. It’s warmth to cold, sunshine to darkness, long days to short. In the past five years it’s been a strange kind of season for me; it’s either been the start of a slide into something not so great, or else the beginning of something new and wonderful. It’s like my life transitions coincide with this season. The days change, and so do the circumstances of my life.

Two years ago I was in the beautiful beginnings of a new love, and life was great. Fall was great, because life was great. I was enjoying the season, but I was also full of the feeling of change. I was so focused on where my life was moving and how to get there, always thinking about the future: about the next trip to Vermont to see my boyfriend, about his next visit to see me, about the next year and whether I would still be living in my apartment, about searching through craigslist and monster.com for new jobs.

A year later my relationship was falling apart (or, it had already fallen apart, but I was still holding on as tightly as I could), and fall was practically nonexistent. I didn’t want to see the changing leaves, I didn’t want to enjoy the pumpkin-flavored-everything, I just wanted to figure out how to make my relationship work, and how to be happy in my partnership again. I constantly thought about the past and what had gone wrong, and I kept looking to a point in the future, when I would feel better and when things would work out.

This fall? I’m trying to be here, now. I think I only really started trying in the past couple of weeks, and in a way, I’m amazed that it took me so long to practice this Camino lesson: don’t dwell in the past or the future, but just enjoy where you are.

I’ve always known that this is a valuable life lesson, but it’s a tough one to put into practice. On the Camino, it was almost effortless. There was so much going on, so much change every day, so much to engage your senses that it was almost impossible (for me, at least), to focus my mind on what had happened the day before, or what would happen tomorrow. And it was a strange practice for me, to not be constantly reflecting on what I had experienced, or preparing for what was to come. I was just letting things be- doing my best to process stuff through blog and journal writing- but otherwise just letting it be.

And it was a wonderful lesson for me to put into practice. Being present made me so happy: when I walked, sometimes I had a smile glued to my face because of the beauty and wonder of where I was and what I was doing. I’ve written about leaving my guidebook behind (and the lost guidebook ties into several Camino lessons for me), but it helped with the act of staying present: I didn’t read about what was going to happen in the future. For the most part, I stopped planning. I just woke up each day and I walked. I didn’t know who I would see or where I would stay, and it was an incredible and freeing feeling.

But when I came home, I got a bit stuck in the past and the future again. Missing my Camino, thinking about it and reflecting on it, going through my photos, even reading my own blog posts to try to get back to that time. And I’ve been very preoccupied about my future, about figuring out what my next step is, about whether I want to make a change, about how to know what is right for me.

It’s important to remember the past and to prepare for the future- what would life be like if we didn’t do either?- but it’s also extremely valuable to sometimes just let it go, and be in the moment. To just enjoy where you are.

So this fall, maybe it will end up being a time of transition for me, but I can’t know that right now. Right now, I’m in my kitchen, and I just pulled a warm loaf of pumpkin bread from the oven. I’m listening to XPN’s 885 Greatest Songs of All Time countdown (which is simply wonderful, right now ‘Wouldn’t it Be Nice‘ by the Beach Boys is playing, and just before was a long jazz number from Miles Davis). I’m noticing the changing leaves and the cooler air as I walk in loops through my neighborhood. I’m cooking foods like chili and butternut squash soup. This weekend, I’m going camping with two of my closest friends.

The last two weeks have been a great time, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve been trying to just be in my days, and to enjoy them as much as I can. I know that I’m going to continue to miss things from my past, and that I’m going to be a bit anxious about figuring out my future, but I’m trying to give those feelings a time and a place. And then I’m moving on… to now, to this beautiful fall season.

I just went for a short walk around my neighborhood, and fall is in the air. It’s the first time I’ve felt it: the cool breeze, the dusty glow of sunlight hitting a sky full of grey clouds. 7:00pm and the day is already fading.

Fall, it’s a time of transition. It feels like a transition for me, although I’m not sure exactly what I’m transitioning to, not yet. For now, the only transition I’m working on is coming off of the Camino. I know where I just came from, but I don’t know where I’m headed to. It’s something I thought about a lot while on the Camino, and something I wondered if I would have answered by the time I left. I don’t, and it’s okay. For now, right here is good.

I was driving to work this morning and merged in front of a large truck with a huge, yellow scallop shell on the side of the cab. I saw it and smiled. I turned on the radio and the first song I heard was The Proclaimer’s ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’. “But I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more,” sang the voice on the radio while a truck with a yellow scallop shell was barreling behind me. Oh, Camino.

One of my blogging friends, Nathan, asked if I would be headed back for another Camino next summer. Man, if I could head back for another Camino next week, I would do it. Next summer? Maybe. Doing another Camino feels inevitable, but a lot of life can happen in a year. It’s hard to say where my head and heart will be next June.

What I think about right now, what I think about every day, is how I can write about this Camino. So I do write about my experiences, at least a little bit every day. I have a few ideas about where I can go with this writing, and maybe this is my yellow arrow, for now.

Following the signs is a lot harder to do off of the Camino. While you’re on it, you just keep your eyes open for yellow arrows or yellow scallop shells, and you just keep walking. I never, ever worried about losing my way, even though I did get off track a couple of times. But I always found my way back easily enough- sometimes on my own, sometimes with a little help.

Here, it’s harder to find the arrows. And sometimes you don’t know when you’re getting off track. Sometimes you’ve been off track for so long that by the time you realize it, you have to walk a long way to get back on the right path. But sometimes something will appear to let you know that you’re moving in the right direction. Sometimes it’s a truck with a scallop shell. Sometimes it’s a timely song on the radio. Sometimes it’s just a gut feeling.

So I’m keeping my eyes open. Still looking for those yellow arrows, and trusting that I’m headed the right way.