Motivation and Solitude on el Camino de Santiago
A pilgrim’s thoughts on the matter
The other day I was walking through a field of poppies somewhere between Pamplona and Puente la Reina. (As you may have seen in my last blog post, I am currently walking el Camino de Santiago.) On both sides of me lay a collection of red polka dots floating in a field of beige. A breeze blew through and glided across the fields, transforming the acres of wheat into a rippling sea. The poppies wriggled around in their places, the red petals desperately trying to break away from their stems in a jig-like motion. It was warm but the grey ceiling prevented the sun from penetrating through the clouds. Walking slightly seperate from the others, I stretched my hands out as far as they could go, two wings spread out against the wind.
“And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.”
-Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
There’s a strange yet beautiful simplicity to the Camino life. You wake up, walk, eat, think, chat, and then rest. That’s really the extent of your worries. There are, of course, the baseline considerations: Did I put enough vaseline on my feet to prevent blisters, did I pack enough snacks to make it to the next food stop? Once you get out there, however, many of these concerns fade into the background. It’s just you, the path, and the nature surrounding it.
I have mostly spent my time on the Camino walking and chatting with others. The people I have met have been amazing and the conversations deeply important to our personal journeys. At the same time, I have found that the silent moments we have with ourselves on the Way are a vital part of the experience. It’s important to make an effort to walk separate from others at times. It’s important to allow for yourself to have that time to think.
Standing alone in the field of poppies under the sunless sky, I felt it being revealed to me just how free I really am, and perhaps just how valuable that freedom really is. I felt it in my heart how the world is large and more accessible now than ever. There are so many places to see and so many things to learn, I felt as though I had hardly scratched the surface of all that God has in store for me. I felt a restoration of comfort in my life’s uncertainty, and a consciousness of the fact that my decision to follow this path despite not knowing where it leads is all that I can do for myself at this point in time.
Uncertainty is often the way of life on the Camino. You can read guides and bring every piece of hiking gear sold at REI, but most days hold unanticipated adventures, and often the path will take surprising turns. Yesterday on our way to Estella, we stumbled upon an old church tucked away in the hills. We broke off from the path to head inside, expecting it to be a typical Camino church with a pretty alter and a place to stamp your pilgrim passport. When we walked inside, however, we found no pews and no decorations. Stone walls and a few windows were the only decor inside the cave-like building, and the sole object within was a medium sized table covered in pieces of paper. We approached the table and found letters in a variety of different languages. Some were written as recently as last Monday, others last decade. These notes included prayers, advice for other pilgrims, and reasons for individuals taking on this journey, many of them quite personal. Flowers, rocks, grape vines, and other small nature items were used to hold the papers in place. We stayed there for 20 minutes reading the stories.
Right before we reached that church all I could think about was how hungry and tired I was, how I wanted nothing but to make it to the next town as fast as possible. Once we entered the church, however, I was so moved by the profound messages of those who came before me that my mental focus completely shifted. I found myself thinking over the things in my life that I have tried but still struggle to make sense of, and wondering how I will come to see them in a new light after this experience. I wrote down a couple of my thoughts about this on a torn off page from my journal and tucked it under a poppy flower.
A woman from Germany who is on her second Camino gave me an important piece of advice today. She told me that it is best to go into the Camino without setting any goals or having any expectations. On her last Camino, she found that the most valuable things that she learned were things that she hadn’t even realized she needed to learn about herself. Her boyfriend of seven years, whom she thought she would marry, she realized was not right for her. Her career as a nurse, which she had been prepared to continue for the rest of her life, she realized had become completely unfulfilling for her. She came home from the Camino ready to face the reality of what she knew was no longer good for her; with courage she parted ways with what had previously been two of the most significant parts of her life. While she hadn’t realized that these parts of her life needed to be changed before the Camino, something had told her in heart that she needed to embark on this journey.
My friend Ellen left the church with all the letters inside of it feeling demoralized, and disappointed that she didn’t have as good of a reason to go on the Camino as the other people whose noted we read did. She said that she wasn’t even sure what her reason was at all.
I thought about this, and told her that I don’t think it makes a difference whether or not you come on the Camino with a thoroughly understood reason. Some people walk the Camino to process a loss of career, divorce, or other major life change. This, of course, is a completely valid form of motivation. What my German friend emphasized to me was that these same individuals and others discover on the Camino that their lives needed changing in ways they never could have anticipated before. So while Ellen and others may not be able to articulate their motivation for going on the Camino when they begin, it will likely become apparent to them as they complete their journey. There is an unconscious consciousness felt by individuals who decide to embark on the Camino that there is something missing from their lives. Ellen just hasn’t figured it out what it is yet.
That right there, I think, is the beauty of the Camino. The uncertainty of the path or even the motivation for your taking it. The Camino is one road, which, like life, you have no choice but to keep following. Even if you have no idea why you wake up each morning and keep living, the reason still exists.
