Have you been on a roller coaster?

Insights, Inspirations & Ramblings

To me, the Camino is a snapshot and metaphor for life. It has a beginning, an end, and a journey in between. The Camino journey provides opportunities to experience things with new eyes and it provides lessons to be applied to your life. I’m stunned by the unexpected ‘lessons’ that it gifts if you are open.

I didn’t expect to have the same experience this time in Spain as I did on my last two experiences. I was facilitating a group of ladies, moving their backpacks forward, and preparing their lodging for the night of their arrival. I was not walking daily like they were, so I didn’t expect to be affected in the same way. Boy, was I wrong. I had a lesson that shook me to my core.

On the last day walking day before our short adventure was finished, I arrived into Granon (one of my favorite places ever, by the way). I had hauled the backpacks up the uneven stone steps into the large room where we would all spend the night next to each other on mats on the floor. I had paid the donation for the room and dinner, and gotten a schedule of the events that the albergue offered. There was only one thing left to do – find a bank. Every so often I had to refill my Euros as most places only accepted cash, and today was that day.

I walked across the street from the albergue to a tiny café to ask for directions to the bank. The place was packed with a line of pilgrims extending clear out the door. As I entered, I saw one lone young woman handling things. She was taking orders and ringing up the sales, while another woman was in the room behind cooking and filling the food orders. What could have very easily been chaotic, was not. The young woman, who I later found out was named Irina, was smiling and completely relaxed. There was music playing that the pilgrims were either swaying back and forth to or singing along with. I had to laugh as I entered because the song “Hit the Road, Jack” was playing. How appropriate, I thought.

I inched my way up to the left side of the counter, where Irina would come to drop off the orders and call out, over the music, the person’s name. My plan was to catch her on her next trip over and quickly ask where the bank was. So, I waited.

As she came to drop off an order, she paused to pick up two dirty cups and saucers that were left there by pilgrims. I thought, ‘Now’s my chance’ and quickly blurted out one of the few phrases in Spanish I knew – “Perdon. Donde esta el banco?” (sorry, I don’t know how to put the tilde, the little accent marks over the Spanish words, but you get the gist of it.).

She turned back around, as she had already moved to walk away, sat the cups and saucers down, and purposefully took my left hand and cupped it both of hers. She completely disregarded the long line of hungry pilgrims waiting to be served, and instead paused to look intently into my eyes. Irina then softly said to me, “Buenos dias”. If I could have disappeared, melted into my shoes, whatever, I would have. I felt so embarrassed.

In her kind loving way, she taught me a monumental lesson, ‘Don’t walk in here rudely blurting out your question. It doesn’t matter that I’m busy or that you’re busy. Stop. Look me in the eyes. Greet me first. Then ask.’

Because I was too flustered to muster up any weak form of Spanish, in English I replied, ‘I am so sorry. Buenos dias’. She just smiled, gave my hand a squeeze and replied, ‘Buenos dias’ and proceeded to tell me how to find the bank.

I humbly walked out and headed to the bank hoping I wouldn’t have to see Irina again. I didn’t want her to think, ‘There comes that rude American woman’.

As fate would have it, I DID have to see her again, several times. This was a tiny village and the only place to get anything to eat, and by now I was hungry. So, I checked my pride and walked back in. Of course, she recognized me as I entered. She looked up from her register and gave me a big smile. Over the crowd and from the back of the café, I yelled out to her, ‘Buenos dias’. She greeted me back and we both laughed.

I’ve lovingly thought back several times since then about Irina and the precious lesson she taught me. I realized how many times I rush through life not really noticing the people I pass during my day. The opportunities I miss, and sometimes even avoid, to say hello or give a passing stranger a smile. What am I doing that’s so important? Where am I going that I don’t have five seconds to pause to acknowledge another human being?

I’ve returned home now and yesterday I was hiking our familiar Pinnacle Peak with my husband, Mike. He was ahead and I was going at my own pace as we always do. As I was coming back down, a young man approached me carrying his little boy (maybe a year old) on his backpack. Even though he was still a little way away, I could see this sweet little boy peeking around his daddy’s back waving like crazy at me. I smiled and waved back to him, and we high fived as we passed.

Again, I was reminded what it means to be seen by another person. To be acknowledged and smiled at. I hope I remember that lesson for the rest of my life.

The familiar phrase is, “The Camino provides”. And, yes, it does. But if we’re open, those lessons can also come at home or hiking a mountain by your house.

Disappointment, loss, grief, boredom, frustration, overwhelm, powerlessness, concern, contented, peace, relaxed, thoughtful, contemplative, appreciative, centered, grounded, clear.

Which descriptions best define you during these past six months? If you’re like me, ALL OF THEM! I feel like I’ve been on some sort of psychotic roller coaster, caught off guard each morning by which feeling, emotion or belief will rule that particular day. Would I be taking that slow but steady climb of optimism, or would I be swept away with the out-of-control feeling of anxiety careening me down the track? My intention was to stay upbeat and positive during this crazy ride that was now all of our lives. I worked at it by reading positive books and devotionals, listening to music, and spending time in meditation. But I have to tell you, many days I just wanted to wallow – and wallow, I did!

I was disappointed about missing my own Camino pilgrimage which was planned for April as it was the 5-year anniversary from completing my first Camino. Okay, let’s be honest here – I wasn’t just disappointed, I was devastated. Then the two groups of Camino ladies I was taking to complete their journeys in September (25 in total) and a retreat group to Costa Rica in December also had to be cancelled. I was way past disappointment now. What I experienced next was more like deep loss or grief.

Everything I thought I was about, and all that fueled my passion, had come to a screeching halt. There was nothing to do, nothing to plan, and nothing to look forward to.

Now add to all this loss and grief, a killer element -- GUILT. How could I be so selfish? People were fighting for their lives with many losing the battle, healthcare workers were tireless giving all they had until they didn’t have the energy to stand any longer, elderly people in nursing homes were all alone. So many people were dealing with so much. How could I be so self-centered? My biggest problem was that I couldn’t walk the Camino or travel with my friends. My disappointment in the situation shifted into disappointment in myself.

Combine all those emotions and I came to my next state -- nothingness. The ride had stopped.

I thought many times of all of my sisters with whom I had shared so much – kneeling at the Cruz de Ferro on the Camino, witnessing the beauty of the horses being let out in Wyoming, trying our hands at in Tai Chi on the red rocks of Sedona, or drinking mulled wine and shopping the Christmas markets of Heidelberg. I wanted to reach out to you, to support you and to encourage you during this difficult time, but I felt that I had nothing of any value to say. How could I encourage you when I was living from such a place of lack and loss in my own life?

In the beginning, I implemented a weekly Zoom call, which was nice for a bit. Then I think we all became overwhelmed by, and a little sick of, Zoom as it quickly became our main mode of connection for many situations. Other than that, my connection with anyone other than immediate family or friends became almost non-existent. No Facebook posts on my business page, very few emails, and only one video.

Then something changed.

I was invited by three girlfriends to join them for a few days in Sun Valley, Idaho for a little get-away. My immediate response was ‘no’. No excuse or reason, just ‘no’. I think I had gotten so used to doing nothing, that travel and exploration, which were always the spark of my life, had become only a faint memory. Thanks to my loving and insightful husband, I reconsidered that decision and agreed to go.

From the moment we stepped out of the vehicle at our Airbnb in Idaho and the cool autumn air touched my cheeks, I felt my old self returning. As we strolled through the quaint little town, with no agenda and nowhere to be, my soul opened up and I literally felt life returning to me and surging through my veins. I must have said to my friends at least ten times, “I can’t tell you how great it feels to be outside”. I was like a released prisoner seeing the world anew. The stunning reds, yellows and oranges of the fall leaves were everywhere, and I was reminded of the healing and invigorating power of nature, and the intense beauty of this world God created for us. Those four days were just what I needed to remember how precious and amazing life is, even during difficult times.

Even though the situation has not changed since before my little trip, I have a renewed sense of being, trusting that all is well and reclaiming my power to choose love and joy in the face of whatever comes.

It has become surprisingly clear to me as I write this that I wasn’t able to share fully while I was in the middle of my funk. It is only once I have come out of that gray place, that I am able to be open about it.

For some reason, I have always felt the need to be (or at least appear) strong. Being open and vulnerable is not something I feel comfortable with. I don’t know why that is exactly, because I feel honored when others feel safe enough to share their vulnerability and raw self with me. So, thank you for allowing me to be open with you now. Maybe next time, I will be brave enough to share in the midst of the craziness. Because one thing I’m pretty sure of, this is not the last time I (or we) will be hit with events and circumstances that knock us off our center.

I’d love to hear how these uncertain times are affecting you. Or better yet, what are you learning about yourself?

Insights, Inspirations & Ramblings

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