The Soul Is a Pilgrim Journeying Toward Endless Horizons

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

Two months ago today I began my journey to South Africa to walk pilgrimage there for a second time. My feelings as I begin this new journey, the one into the stories of that walk, are similar. I’m both apprehensive and excited. Certain I’m doing exactly as I’m meant to do, while at the same time asking myself why I’m feeling the need to intentionally place myself in the arms of discomfort and the unknown.

 

The easy part is over. The new blog is in place. Thanksgiving and the happy distraction that provided is behind. My desk is cleared and organized, the journals of the walk are sitting next to me. I have remained off of Facebook for this entire two months. My first commitment in that decision was to be fully present for the walk. My second was to stay off until my new writing practice was established. This tender new space is still vulnerable and requiring careful nurturing. 

 

The rebirth of my writing practice began on the walk. Because I was not on Facebook, and not telling stories, I journaled. Journaling is something I’ve done off and on for years, and so it’s a place of familiarity and comfort, even as it reveals what lurks in the shadows. Almost from the beginning of the pilgrimage, I wrote both morning and evening. I found the journaling grounded me, gave me an outlet for feelings that weren’t really safe to express anywhere else. Morning journaling was the ritual that set me on the path of the day. I would get up around 4:00 a.m., my regular rising time at home, much sooner than anyone else was stirring. I’d make a cup of coffee, instant with milk, find a place with light that wouldn’t wake anyone up, and settle in with a conversation with that quiet inner voice. Part of that time involved reading Anam Cara and using John O’Donohue’s deep wisdom to help me understand myself and the deeper meanings of the events unfolding around me. Evening journaling was more a recording of the day’s events. Because this pilgrimage turned out to be much more a mental and emotional challenge than I expected, it became important for me to get as much detail down as possible to help with the reflecting and mining for meaning at the end. 

 

I took one journal:  Leuchtturm soft cover, 6” x 8”, dotted format, in turquoise. It’s my standard travel journal and, based on previous experience, one journal was more than enough for even a 40-day trip. I hadn’t even finished the Peninsula, the first section of the walk, before I knew it would not be enough this time. I found a shop in a sweet beach town we were walking through, and bought two regular blank-paged journals with African designs on the covers. There are only a handful of blank pages left in the second one.

 

My relationship with Facebook is part of the larger story. I think it’s a bigger part than I anticipated in the beginning. Because it’s more about where I put my attention, and how I spend my time, and how I choose to spend the ever-dwindling supply of energy I have available to me. It’s also about my tendency to addiction. And about how ego demands can drown out soul longings. I removed alcohol decades ago, and nicotine, and believed myself clean. But subsequent struggles with sugar and shopping made it clear I will always have to be watchful. Facebook was just the latest rabbit hole down which I could escape from myself and the world. 

 

When I decided to walk pilgrimage this time, it was in part to break the patterns I’d slipped into in retirement and Covid and surgery recovery. To find a way to reclaim my days and to create a new routine that honored this older person I am. To find a purpose that would fill the space left by my turning away from this latest addiction. To quieten the ego/addict voice enough that I could hear the much softer soul voice that I know will offer the wisdom I need to grow old gracefully and joyfully. It was also, as walking always is for me, a way to feel as completely alive and connected to something larger than myself as possible. 

 

I was eager to renew the friendships and friendly acquaintances I’d made on the walk two years ago. I knew I wouldn’t be walking as a celebrity this time without the Facebook stories, and I was looking forward to deepening relationships. Almost without exception, this aspect of the walk was more than I could have asked for. It would turn out that those friendships were the light that kept me going when things got so much harder than I thought was possible to manage. 

 

I embarked on this walk uncertain about my ability to handle it physically. Two prosthetic hips, the newest just more than a year old, changed my gait and my balance. Arthritis, showing up in new places seemingly overnight, and the accompanying pain, challenged my trust in my body to be there when I asked. My training wasn’t as strong as for previous walks. I basically continued with my regular fitness routine with added miles and a firmer commitment to not skip yoga classes. I lost my hiking partner right around the time I committed to this Camino, so hiking as training became a challenge. I couldn’t seem to lose the extra weight that always creeps on after a pilgrimage. In my head I was considering what I might do if I couldn’t complete the legs, and preparing myself for the necessary humbling it would require to ask for special consideration. 

 

It turned out the physicality of this pilgrimage was easy. The legs were shorter than the first time I walked this path. There were some non-walking days. The hilliest legs were cut out. The weather was nearly perfect. My body, as it has every time I’ve done a pilgrimage, responded in joy and strength. Even during the hardest walking days, I felt a strong sense of flow and rhythm, a rightness with life and the world I only feel when I walk. Even with the inevitable soreness and tiredness and the one annoying blister, I enjoyed my body and felt friends with it the entire walk. 

 

It also turned out the being-with-other-human-beings part of this pilgrimage was hard enough I considered coming home early more than once. The dynamics of the group of pilgrims were frequently toxic. One pilgrim in particular made choices that impacted the entire group in ways none of us would find beneficial. Her behaviors pushed buttons that I could have sworn were no longer active, and at times it felt like she was sitting on them hard and intentionally. Another pilgrim showed an active dislike of me from the first day, before I’d even had a chance to reveal myself. My absolute trust that Cape Camino would take care of me, that they cared about me (and pilgrims in general) at all, was battered and bruised to the point I wasn’t even sure I wanted to tell the story of this walk. I was confused by my feelings, until I realized that the situation was very similar to that of growing up and seeing parents as real people for the first time. Complex. Imperfect. But deeply loved.

 

I realized pretty quickly that expectations were the key. And that it was hard to sort out what were my expectations, what were others’ expectations, and what expectations were reasonable and not just ego demanding better treatment. Expectations were one of the big lessons of my first walk on Cape Camino, and I came to this one feeling like I was done with that lesson. Clearly, I wasn’t. I can’t say for certain that I have actually got the sorting done now. Perhaps it will be clearer once I’ve told the stories. 

 

What I do know is this: My initial commitment to accept whatever came my way this time, to not complain, to not try to shape events, got me through the discomforts and feelings of betrayal and loneliness. I reminded myself over and over again: I am a pilgrim, this is a pilgrimage. It’s not supposed to be easy. I can do hard things. I asked for this. 

 

I hadn’t expected to be given so much to accept, but I had to laugh at times because it was clear Spirit had heard my heart’s desire for a transformative experience and was giving it to me in exuberant abundance. There are no villains here. Each of my fellow pilgrims has their own story, their own needs, their own life to live. Not right or wrong, but definitely in some cases, not a good match for my life. Cape Camino is a miracle and I’m beyond grateful to them. That I was frequently disappointed with them on this walk takes nothing away from that. 

 

There is a pretty strong part of me that would prefer to move forward with my life without exploring this pilgrimage for deeper meaning. The pain of those days is fresh enough that I’m really not eager to revisit it. But there is so much pleasure to be mined as well, and my curiosity will not allow me to miss out on discovering the treasures of insight and wisdom I know are waiting to be unearthed. 

 

For the first time in my pilgrim life, this re-entry has been relatively easy. I’ve grounded myself fairly quickly. I’m happy to be home, even in winter. My routines are satisfying (even or especially without Facebook): walking, time with Birdie, yoga, writing, reading, nesting, visiting with friends. A perfect place, safe and warm, from which to be brave enough to search for truth, strong enough to choose to resist the inertia of comfort. 

 

An explanation of the format: I decided somewhere on the walk that I wanted to tell my stories on a blog. I’ve blogged before and feel comfortable here. There is a possibility that this pilgrimage is my book. If that turns out to be the case, how I tell these stories matters more than it has in the past. Facebook stories are lighter and shorter and more oriented toward the visual. Outer focused. Ego based. Blogging allows the space for digging deeper, to allow what’s inside to percolate more fully. It feels to me that it’s easier to tell harder truths here. I had expected that people who want to read the stories would be able to subscribe to the blog. It turns out that’s not an easy thing to do, or even possible for many. In the interest of finding any readers at all, I’ll publish the first stories on Facebook. I’ll need to see how that feels and how it impacts my ability to stay focused here. Those of you who want the whole story are invited to follow the blog.

 

An explanation of the blog title and URL: Toward the end of Anam Cara I came across the quote at the top of this story. “The soul is a pilgrim journeying toward endless horizons.” Endless Horizons seemed like a perfect blog title for telling a story of pilgrimage. Blogger accepted the title, but would not accept it as a URL. I took another part of the quote, pilgrim journeying, for that, which Blogger liked. The address: pilgrimjourneying.blogspot.com. I hope you’ll join me there.

 

An explanation of my relationship with Facebook: As I write this, I’m still really uncertain about how to re-include Facebook into my life. I don’t want to end my relationship with it completely, but neither do I want to return to the relationship I had before this two month fast. It seems that a disciplined structure is necessary. Limited time. Visiting only after I’ve done my writing and the other things in my life that are essential. Absolutely not visiting repeatedly during a day in search of distraction, validation, connection. Reframing Facebook as mild entertainment rather than writing practice. I suppose if I lose my focus and give in to the Siren call, I can always do another pilgrimage to break its spell again.