I was on my walk the other morning and I heard someone calling out to me.

I turned to see that it was a lovely lady who lives nearby. My wife and I have known her for years, and the previous weekend she’d invited us to her house, along with some friends, for dinner.

The woman’s name is Lesley, she used to own one of the top wineries in the district, and  she’s a wonderful cook. As we walked into her beautiful house on the river in Mudgee, odours wafted through from the kitchen. She told us proudly that she’d been cooking two shoulders of organic lamb for the past six hours.

Pulled lamb, she called it. Because the flesh would pull away from the bone, due to the slow cooking.

I’ve been vegetarian ever since I got that very strange message while meditating at the Yogananda Self-Realization Temple in Pacific Palisades, Los Angeles. That was two months ago.

The message was clear and immediate: If you’re about to eat meat, look into the eyes of that animal and ask yourself if you feel comfortable killing it for food. 

I wrote a blog at the time. Here it is –

Epiphany of a meat-eater.

Ever since that message, I haven’t eaten meat. I’ve eaten seafood now and again, but I’ve had no meat, no chicken or poultry, and certainly no lamb.

I love lamb. There’s nothing more delicious than roast lamb, lamb cutlets, lamb korma curry, rack of lamb and slow-cooked pulled lamb.

But I also love baby lambs.

As I walk around Mudgee, I often see baby lambs frolicking in the paddocks. I couldn’t bring myself to kill one – whether it be for food or for any other reason. I just couldn’t kill a baby lamb.

We sat down for dinner, and I had the lamb. Didn’t say a word. And it was delicious. Lesley suggested I have seconds, and I didn’t say no.

So the other morning when she yelled out to me, I walked over and thanked her once again for the beautiful meal – and mentioned to her that it was the first time I’d eaten meat in two months.

She asked why, and I told her the story of the Yogananda Temple and the message I’d received. She was mortified. She began to apologise profusely.

“You should have told me,” she said. “I would have cooked you something vegetarian.”

I laughed and said it wasn’t a problem. “You’d spent a long time preparing that meal, you’d put a lot of thought and love into it, and I was a guest in your house. The least I could do was appreciate the meal you’d cooked for us all, without any fuss, and thank you gratefully.”

Still she was mortified.

I explained to her that refraining from eating meat was a decision I’d made after receiving that message, but I wasn’t going to be obsessive about it. The message wasn’t Don’t eat meat,” it simply told me to give consideration to the life of the creature that would be killed for my food.

I could argue that the lamb had already been killed for that dinner.

I could also argue that I love eating lamb.

I could also argue that I’m weak and a hypocrite.

But I could argue as well that I’d prefer to live in the real world, a world of moderation, and walk what the Buddhists call the Middle Path.

I haven’t eaten meat since that night. And I have no plans to do so. But if I was presented with a similar scenario, I’d eat what’s put in front of me – without complaint.

And I’d be grateful.

Word seems to have spread about the fun we had on the Portuguese Camino tour – because we are now fully booked for the Assisi Tour in April of next year.

If you’re interested, you can put your name down on a wait list in case anyone drops out.

We’re putting together another Portuguese Camino Tour in October, if anyone is interested. We’re already starting to fill that up.

Our beautiful and hilarious local liaison van driver / translator / parking in tow-away-zones lass, Catarina, will be on board again – subject though to us getting sufficient numbers.

After the Assisi Tour, we’re planning a Celtic Camino Tour possibly in the 2nd half of next year. That will involve a series of ancient pilgrimage walks around the West Coast of Ireland, which is a spectacularly beautiful part of the world.

But right at the moment we’re filling up the next Portuguese Camino, which will kick off out of Porto towards the end of October. So email me if you’re interested at –

billpgsblog@gmail.com

Bill Bennett.

LOURDES

The Camino this time is still continuing to be very nice with me, which is most encouraging !!

The hitch-hike from Saint-Gilles to Lourdes was lightning quick (well, apart from the bit where I managed to head the wrong way on foot LOL), and Oscar, who took me most of the way, to within 10 miles of Lourdes, is an Italian bike pilgrim who will have done his first Camino stage today.

I arrived in Lourdes at about 6 PM last night, then immediately found a place selling Chimay gold top, a beer I had been wishing to taste for roughly 20 years, but even that pleasure was unable to lessen the beautiful joy of the Lourdes Pilgrim Hostel, as it is simply, and hands down, the BEST I have ever stayed in.

The internal wooden architecture instantly tells you that this isn’t just any old Refugio — while you’re here, it’s Home. The wonderful Jean-Louis is keeping it mostly single-handed, on a Donativo basis, and he provides not just a wonderful breakfast and a superb home-cooking supper — but also his fatherly kindness and warmth, so that his stuff is your stuff, his kitchen your kitchen, and your Camino is his joy.

Last night I was the only Pilgrim in the main dormitory, and there was only one other pilgrim in the Hostel — tonight though there is a mix, seven of us, four starting still Lourdes, two having walked in from beyond, and the last being a foot pilgrim to Lourdes who has therefore just finished his hike.

Five of us are walking on out tomorrow, so I’ll see which I’ll be bumping into along the Way …

I attended a Traditional Latin Mass this evening, just down the road, which naturally turned out to be the Mass of the Transfiguration, which is one of the most important Saint James Masses of the year (among many other aspects of course hehehe).

Looking terribly forward to start the Camino in the morning.

Julian Lord has started his journey.

Julian first walked the Camino in 1992 – and then two years later. And then several times since. The Way when he first walked was vastly different to how it is today.

If there is such a thing as a “true” pilgrim, then Julian ticks all the boxes.

He will be posting regularly on this blog as he makes his way from Lourdes to Santiago, and then back again – or at least, part of the way back.

He’s an extraordinary fellow, and I feel very privileged to be able to host his writings here. So this is his first post from the road, on his way to Lourdes….

E Sus Eia At Last

Well — I’ve started !!!

First hike this morning was a short 4 km one from home to Monaco station, where I purchased my el cheapo ticket to Arles — which is where I’ll pick up my Credencial. Not sure how I’ll move on this evening towards Lourdes, though I am starting to think the wonderful Refugio in Saint Gilles might be a good place to make a night of it.

Feels a little strange today, as after all the anticipation and physical preparation and the various ups and downs over the past year since I decided to make this new Camino, somehow I hadn’t fully realised that this is my first pilgrimage since 1993 starting NOT from my front door !!!

I am of course pleased to bits right now, not least because this train I’m on has electrics and network (hence the blogging), and I am at last on my Way, but there’s still a part of my purist little self that thinks it’s cheating, whereas there’s another little part of me that’s thinking “Wow, I’ve just started my journey home…”

This time anyway, Santiago will be more than just the apex and half-way point symbolically, but also physically and geographically, as Marie-Dominique and I will be walking back to France from there. So this Camino, on my first day, is already its own beast, and is already unique in its own right.

So in fact it’s even a positive this time to start differently, and quite apart from any of the physical difficulties I’ll be facing, it’s good that the mental difficulties of the Camino should be a little less harsh this time.

Looming forward to Arles this afternoon, Lourdes tomorrow, to starting the walking Wednesday or Thursday, looking forward to hitting the Spanish Camino, and greatly looking forward to the rendez-vous and the walking together with Marie-Do.

I think this will be a buen Camino ;o)

Today’s stage is also full of personal memory for me, as this lovely el cheapo ticket requires travelling old style, from station to station, rather than just getting into a single train or plane and waking up on arrival.

I’m doing some food shopping and stuff along the line as I wait for the next train, and remembering how all train journeys were once like this, and revisiting many familiar sights and experiences. These memories are mixed with this day’s new experience as well as mixing with the memories of my Caminos past, and with that of our first arrival down here in the South of France at Saint Raphael station where I am typing these extra lines.

Of course, this Camino will not be always so nostalgic, but that’s most certainly how it is starting. It is as comfortable as it is full of hope for this Camino that I am only just starting to live.

I firmly believe that you don’t choose a book to read, the book chooses you.

If you let it.

When I go into a bookstore, I walk up to a shelf and I wait for the book to jump out into my hands. And it does. And by that I mean, the book yells out to me:

READ ME!

There are times when I’ve finished a book, and I’m considering what next to read, so I’ll go to my library and look at those books that I’ve bought but not yet read, and I ask what book shall I read? And the same thing happens: the book calls out to me.

With my Kindle, and also with my Audible (audiobooks) library, it’s the same deal – if I’m ready to take in what the book will give me, then it calls to me.

There are times in our lives when we meet someone, and we feel a connection, but we know we’re not ready for them. Or they’re not ready for us. Whether it’s a romantic relationship, or business, or simply a friendship – each person you meet, you learn from. But sometimes you’re not ready for the lessons they’ll give you – or you will give them.

And you sense that the relationship is destined for another lifetime.

It’s the same with books. Each book comes into your life for a purpose – whether it be just for amusement and entertainment, or knowledge, or wisdom. Or growth.

If you allow your PGS to guide you, you’ll be taken to the right books at the right time – for whatever purpose you might require from that book.

When I was seventeen, my parents took me to Tokyo. It was my first trip overseas, and we stayed in a fancy hotel. I remember opening up the drawer beside my bedside and finding a little black book – The Buddhist Bible. 

Curious, I read the book. It changed my life. It set me on a path of reading and study that would inform my young and pliable world view. That book chose me. I have no doubt.

I still have that book –

I’ve had a copy of Autobiography of a Yogi for years. I read it a long time ago, but in retrospect I wasn’t ready for it.

Now in preparation for my filming trip to India, I’m reading it again on my walks each morning, via my iPod and Audible.

I’m finding wisdom in the book that I wasn’t ready for before.

But now I am.

Why does life become more difficult as you get older?

Why don’t things fall your way anymore – like they used to when you were younger?

Why do you lack the courage to do things – things you once would have done without hesitation thirty or forty years ago?

Barnacles.

Yes, barnacles.

We’re like a ship, steaming through life’s waters. And as the years go by, barnacles begin to form on our hull, under the waterline.

Out of sight.

Barnacles and seaweed, which capture the flotsam and jetsam of our worldly experiences.

This debris of life clings to us.

It slows us down, makes us less manoeuvrable.

Less nimble.

It makes us cautious, hesitant, scared.

It tries to stop us going places we once went without a moment’s thought.

The barnacles finally get so thick we can’t move forward.

They burden us with their heaviness. We carry that heaviness with us as we struggle through our later years.

Finally, we give up.

But we can scrape those barnacles off.

We have to scrape them off, if we want to become nimble again.

If we want to be unafraid again.

We can do this, by walking the Camino.

I’m posting another article which has touched me – and I hope you don’t think me lazy because this now is the second time I’ve done this recently, however I think this is a very moving story about the power of love, and how love can heal.

It concerns a tourist who, on her second night in Sydney, was raped. And how the community where the attack occurred then came together to send her their love. And how that love then healed her. Or at least began the healing process.

This is the kind of story that rarely reaches us because the media usually concentrates on the shocking and exploitative aspects of news stories, and not these positive stories that emphasise compassion and love. That’s another reason I’m posting this here – to get it out wider.

So the story is from the Sydney Morning Herald – and here is the link:
Belgium woman returns to Australia   And here is the story: 

Since studying tourism it had been my dream to visit Australia. I was planning to discover Sydney and then to travel further. I arrived in November last year and hoped to stay for about a year.

On my second day in Sydney I still felt quite jetlagged and in the early evening I decided to go for a walk outside and see the neighborhood around Kings Cross where I was staying. 

As I was wandering, enjoying all of the lights and the sounds I found myself in a dark street that I didn’t recognise.

As I tried to orientate myself back to the hotel a man grabbed me from behind, and dragged me into an alley. He shoved me against a wall with his hand around my throat. I was paralysed with fear.

Then he sexually assaulted me. When he was finished he left me there; dazed, shocked. I never even saw his face.

I don’t remember much about going back to my hotel but I was strangely numb. All I wanted to do was get back to my room and never tell anyone about what I had just experienced, I was so ashamed. 

When I made it back to the hotel I just crumbled.  When I saw the hotel staff the words tumbled out of me. They called the police who were there in two minutes, and they took me to the hospital. 

My family said they would come immediately to take me home but it would have taken a few more days. I couldn’t wait. I did not feel safe and I was reluctant to even leave my hotel room. I saw something about it on the news and I was scared that someone would be waiting outside my hotel wanting me to talk about it. The next day I was on a plane home to Belgium, a completely different person.

I wanted everyone at home to think that I was ok, because I could see how worried they were and they didn’t know what to say or how to act, so I pretended I was fine. But I was scared of people, I was scared to go out. I was sad, and ashamed. I began to cut myself, and it felt better for a moment but then I felt guilty that I had hurt myself further.

Eventually I went to a counselor and being able to talk freely about it and not worry about their feelings was such a relief.

One day the Belgian Embassy sent me an email. They told me it was unusual for them to do this but a lady in Sydney had sent a photograph to them hoping the Embassy would pass it on. The photograph was of a group of people – women, men and children- standing together smiling at me and all I saw was love. I didn’t really see that they were standing in the alley I was attacked in.

The message was that the community was sorry for what had happened to me and they wanted me to know that they cared. I could see that although the day was grey the sun was shining at the end of the alley and something began to change inside me. It was my first positive association with Australia.

The lady who orchestrated the picture, Claudia MacIntosh Bowman, and I started an email friendship and I began to think maybe I could return one day and have the adventure I had set out to experience the first time. My therapist thought returning would be good for me, and my parents encouraged the idea.

I was nervous about coming back. I was worried that it would be too difficult, or maybe these people who were being so nice to me would not like me when they met me, but when I arrived and saw Claudia at the airport it was like coming home to family.

Claudia had sent out messages to the community of my imminent arrival and people opened their homes to me. I have been given experiences, have been fed and taken out and shown how wonderful this city really is. I have been treated with such love. It’s overwhelming.

Claudia told me she had a friend who is a documentary maker and that she would be interested in documenting my experience here. I was unsure at first but when I met Rani (Chaleyer) I just knew that I trusted her with my story.

I realised it was important to show my journey to inspire other women to come forward if they experience something like this. You don’t have to go to the police, but you need to tell someone you trust. You can’t just hide it away.

When I told Rani I wanted to go back to the alley I was attacked in she questioned if it was a good idea. I had discussed it with my therapist before I left Belgium and I just knew it was something I needed to do. I went during the day, and it looked different to how it looked the night I was assaulted. As I stood there it felt so heavy in my bones, in my heart. I didn’t cry, but I felt so much pain for a minute and it was all right there. And then it wasn’t.

Suddenly, that space was not his anymore. That alley, that horrible experience, and now this new experience, it was mine and I reclaimed it.

What happened to me is awful, I still have bad days and I will carry it for the rest of my life, but this thing does not define who I am. And this trip, and these people in this community have restored my faith in humankind.

Steve McCurry’s latest blog –