There is something beautifully simple in waking up with one main task for the day: walk. That is the invitation on the Camino de Santiago. To pick up your backpack and put one foot down after the other, until you reach that day’s destination.
On our first day of walking this past July, strapping my feet in my sandals, adjusting my hat, and putting on my sunglasses, I set out, with our group of pilgrims, ready to go. The breeze from the ocean felt incredible, the sea salt-tinged air smelled delicious, and the view of the ocean coastline was breathtaking. First step. Second step. Third step. You soon find yourself in a rhythm of motion. The silence we begin with each day invites an openness to hear the sounds of other things: the lap of the waves, the call of a bird, the wind in the trees, and yes, even the occasional traffic.
After some beautiful and flat coastline walking, we come to a very large hill, perhaps even a small mountain. Here the trail goes up, and up, and up. Sometimes the path is dirt, at other times stones and large rocks, and I had to keep reminding myself: one step at a time. One step after the other. Upon reaching the top, you are suddenly greeted with a stunning panoramic view of the coastline, with terra cotta Spanish roofs dotting the landscape. Upon continuing on top of this mountain, you enter a beautiful woods where the only sound is the birds in the trees, and the wind rustling the leaves. I felt renewed, invigorated, and connected in that moment.
The beautiful thing about the morning silence is that not only can I hear the sounds on the trail around me, it also invites a deep inner listening. The process of walking in silence opens up your heart. I kept feeling a profound gratitude to simply be here, walking these ancient paths. Pilgrims have stepped where I am stepping for centuries. I am now part of that ancient lineage.
Our themes for this journey are “remember,” “release,” and “reimagine.” Having the spaciousness of a full day of walking lends itself to deep engagement of each of these. Who and what am I remembering, holding space for, honoring on this path? What is it that it might be time to let go of? How can I look at my life from this new vantage point and think about differently? It is impossible to walk the Camino and remain unchanged.
Despite the dreaminess of the beautiful setting, and the simplicity of just taking one step after the other, it is still a demanding experience. To become one who walks the Camino requires months of training. Many days at home taking walks that are less glamorous, but just as important to tune and prepare one’s body for this 100-mile venture. By day two—our longest day of walking—a couple of hot spots, blister hopefuls, showed up on my feet along my sandal straps. I thought, we’re not even halfway yet! It was important in that moment to pause, tend to those spots, take a breather, and then gear up for the rest of the way ahead.
On our final day, I fell into step with a local Spaniard who was walking the Camino alone. We conversed as best we could, his English and my Spanish both being limited and put to the test. He shared that he is a psychologist and he occasionally walks the Camino alone to provide some space to process all the things he hears in his sessions with clients: depression, addiction, loneliness and more. The Camino allows me to breathe, he tells me.
We count down the final steps together into Santiago. Ten kilometers to go. Now five. Now we are turning the corner into the Cathedral plaza. There we run into a couple of his friends who are just arriving via the French way. The joy of these friends completing their journeys by different routes at the same time was palpable and incredible. We laughed, we took selfies, we smiled, we sat on the ancient stones and soaked in the moment. Hundreds of pilgrims around us did the same.
One hundred miles. Each step a prayer. Each stride an act of faith. One step at a time.
Interested in joining Shalem on their next Camino pilgrimage? Click here to learn more and to register.