Stopped into a church I passed along the way…

St. Jean is full of pilgrims excited to see this place. We’ve been thinking of arriving for so long and we are ready to hear an orientation from the Camino volunteers and receive a pilgrim passport and get a first stamp in it and find a place to stay and prepare last minute details for the walk over the mountain early in the morning.

The same amazing cobbled streets walked by pilgrims by the hundreds of years.

Witt all that new-old beauty and bustle and stuff to do, it’s natural that one’s attention is drawn outward to the near uncertain future and the pull of an interesting world. But a pilgrimage with any chance for lasting transformative power must surely happen on the inside of a person as much as on the out. But that’s not on my mind until:

I walk into a church.

El Camino is, classically, a Catholic way of pilgrimage. And the great landmarks all the way along will be steeped in Church history. But in this century El Camino has opened up great space for all kinds of seekers looking for something real and meaningful beyond ordinary daily life–people who value the possibility of discovery of something sacred and experientially true beyond the surface about who we are and why we’re here.

Now I’m not Catholic, but I lived in Catholic countries from age 15 to 30 and made so many great friends there and have always enjoyed the culture and respected the good part of the church that surely feeds their lives. And though I’m not a big fan of the emphasis on sin and confession as a spiritual path (I think self-honesty is a much more effective and lasting (and difficult) way for getting rid of tough inner psyche stuff) or of church politics and especially of unhealthy sexual repression that has hurt so many priests and so many kids in such terrible ways. That said, I have indeed felt the power of so many paths and this one too, the sacred space and ritual of this two millennia way of life looking to bring some divinity into humanity. And in my reality I have no doubt that Jesus was an enlightened spiritual master with the highest exemplary and benedictive healing power. So despite two thousand years of this world surely misunderstanding him a lot and making a mess of his love, I do respect that the Catholic path, is real and it’s powerful.

Mother Mary, patron saint of “the cult of St. Mary” (Pamplona).

Entering a Catholic and reverent space where so many have surrendered themselves to the highest power with such humility… well, I can feel it.

My mind shifts from all that beauty out there in the world and all that wonder about the next six weeks to come. My awareness drops straightaway into my silent heart. I am not Catholic and I am not not Catholic. It’s just not an issue, obstacle, barrier, or deal. It’s not about belief. It is just a way of being in which I can trust myself and know that God and I and the world, no matter how it often looks, are all made of love. I am in meditation and my honest prayer and depth-sourced faith for the Camino arises in this inner and outer sacred space right up into my consciousness.

When I open my eyes I can see more than I could before. The colored light-shadows on the old stone columns and walls speaks to me to from this the inner place I have arrived…

My Camino has begun.

Arriving at the start of this great adventure

I took the fast train from Paris to St. Jean on Thursday, August 25, which already feels like another life ago. But it’s still fresh and I got some pictures and some journal entries to share with you.

That ride is a beauty and…

A blur…

The landscape all shares the forest with pasture for the animals and farms for the plants and lovely space for humans and transport all designed without greed, with such respect for place.

What a way to live.

And then I’m there at the start of this great physical, social, spiritual adventure.

Portal into St. Jean and beyond to Spain and the Camino!

The thousand year old pilgrim greeting we will share with pilgrims all along the way.

The village is so beautiful.

The view from my first albergue (hostel just for pilgrims)

Yep, pretty cool…

Onward in the morning!

Here in Pamplona staying at a spa… (big smiley face)

I got behind on taking you all with me in the blog (but not in my heart).

I have made it to Pamplona and am here for a rest day in a hotel to heal and repair (with a massage!) this achy untrained walking body and to soak up the amazing history and culture and take joy in the great warmth in the people here.

So now there’s time and energy to catch you up! I’ve been thinking of you ‘ohana, friends, family, and former students with every picture I stop to take and every story that occurs along the Way that I want to share with you.

There are those tired feet.

My backpack is too heavy. That now is a certainty. I think It is 10 kilos but for the last 5 kilometers of each day on the Way, I think it mystically doubles to 20 kilos!

I’ve paired down all I think I can, so it looks like it is me that has to change in this relationship between me and my pack… And I think I can. Each day, for sure, I get a little stronger, but it takes time for certain muscles–some not used for decades– to step up.

This town is so beautiful. Here’s the view from my balcony.

And the food is always fresh and organic and local (and affordable) and made with obvious love and lots of pride.

I love the colors here.

These are the streets where bulls and people run during festival.

And it’s rained and thundered dramatically both days I’ve been here. The streets clear out of people, then the rain stops as fast as it starts and they’re back, eating, drinking, talking, shopping, walking, having fun.

Over the Mountains and through the woods

Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!

An unforgettable day! It’s evening in the middle of the rural medieval mountains and I have walked 9 1/2 hours up 5,000 feet and 16 miles crossing over the Pyrenees from France into Spain on Napolean’s favorite conquering route– with a couple hundred other pilgrims and made friends–feels like good ones–with about 10% of them.

But. This my be the worst blog post ever: shortly into the walk my camera told me that I already spent my batteries just getting to the start, so no photos and even though I captured some of the most extraordinary scenery I’ve ever seen in my life, not on camera, but as I learned to from my friend Ximena, taken with a “camera in my heart” where the essence of that beauty is sure to ever remain.

And I’d like to share that at least in words with you but I am beat! So it’s off to bed in a thousand year old monestery in Roncevalles. I’ll catch you up when I get a chance, for you really are here with me. I am alone together on this trip. This is a lifetime great experience and I can already see why pilgrims dedicate such love and effort to return to The Way to volunteer to help other pilgrims behind them.

 

Two Days to Paris

I’m on my way!

My son Mark took me to the Honolulu airport to head out for El Camino at 5:30 am on Tuesday. After traveling all day and all night and another day, early Thursday evening I stepped around the corner from the train station to find a sudden view of this!

So after nearly 40 hours of travel I checked into a room in Paris then went for a great French dinner in a sidewalk bistro (like you read about) and after dinner I walked back to the hotel to this:

Tomorrow is another full day of getting there. In the morning I catch the first train towards the south of France, then a short bus ride to another train, then on to the village in the Pyrenees where, if all goes well, on Friday morning I’ll put my first steps on the Camino and walk over the mountains into Spain.

Getting “philosophical” about the upcoming trip. (Did you expect anything different from me?😏)

Watching “The Tunnel” on PBS, this conversation gets me thinking about the Camino:

Person 1: “Everything you took for granted is gone; nothing makes sense anymore.”

Person 2: How did you get over that feeling? Of nothing making sense?”

Person 1: Oh I don’t know… just keep putting one foot in front of the other, don’t you?”

Person 2: “Right. Should we go and get that ice cream?”

The Tunnel, Season 2, Episode 5

El Camino calls!

This is the post excerpt.

I am excited! In ten days I fly from Honolulu to Paris and take a train down to the south of France and bus to the little village from which I’ll start my six week pilgrimage by walking over the Pyranees into Spain and then on to Pamplona on my way to the church where the relics of Saint James rest and then on to the Celtic shrine at Finnisterre, the “end of the world” where the sun sets into the Atlantic.

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