Since publication less than twelve months ago, the reviews for my Camino book – The Way, My Way, overall have been very positive.

I’ve received 65 ***** (five) star reviews, four **** (four) star reviews, one *** star, one ** star, and recently I received a shocker of a * star review. Here is that review:

The reviewer calls me, amongst other things, a self-indulgent bore and not a very nice person. Ahem. I’m sure my mother would beg to differ. I was going to say: I’m sure my wife would beg to differ but I might just check in with her first…

I disagree though that I was singularly ill-prepared. I’d prepared thoroughly. Perhaps too thoroughly.

I’d driven most of the route on a prior trip to Spain, I’d read just about everything there was to read, I’d watched documentaries and YouTube videos, and of course the film The Way. And I’d trained for about eighteen months – testing boots, backpacks, on different terrain, over short and long distances etc. I felt that I’d prepared as best one can when undertaking such a spiritual journey.

Anyway, I feel like I’m defending myself. I shouldn’t have to defend myself.

Then today I received an email out of the blue from a lady named Rebecca Bishop from Washington State. She’d just finished the book and had taken the trouble to track down my email address, to let me know how much she’d enjoyed it.

She then wrote this five star review:

It’s as though Rebecca Bishop and Geoffrey Collier had read different books.

I don’t get it.

When you write something that’s very personal, as this book was for me, then you open yourself up for all sorts of criticism. Especially on the internet. I’m used to it from my film work. I’ve had good reviews and bad reviews. You only ever remember the bad reviews!

Reviews aside, this was a book I had to write, to complete my Camino. I’d come back from the pilgrimage with a lot of deep issues unresolved. For me, the only way I could find resolution was to write about my experiences, and in writing about them it was like I’d lain down on a psychiatrist’s couch. In having to examine them through the rigours of writing, I found a certain clarity.

So I wrote this book for myself. To help me work out my stuff. What’s been pleasing lately though is that I’ve heard the book has impacted on several other people in ways I never could have expected.

I won’t go into details because of privacy concerns, however I’ve been thrilled to hear that several people who are going through some personal hardships have read the book and it’s inspired them to undertake their own Camino. And having made that decision their hardships are already starting to melt away.

I’ve also heard that a few people who have completed the Camino and read the book have gained a new perspective in the light of my experiences and insights.

What I’ve discovered is that walking the Camino is just the beginning of your pilgrimage. It doesn’t start in St. Jean Pied de Port or Pamplona or Burgos or Astorga – in many ways it actually starts when you get home.

That’s when it gets really difficult.

Am I a good pilgrim ? No more than I could possibly describe myself as “a good man”.

The Pilgrimage to Santiago is no kind of magical nor mythical odyssey that will automatically provide any sort of moral nor spiritual advancement in life.

The Camino is a TOUGH path, made of several weeks or months of sweat-filled toil, pain, disappointment, hardship, and constant struggle against doubt, fatigue, and oneself.

It is a Crucible where the Self is tested and revealed, and where you can make or lose a friend in an instant ; but it’s also a pathway where your innermost needs and the depths of your toughness will emerge, no matter the consequences.

NONE of my pilgrimages so far have ever been in comfortable nor easy conditions, and this year will be no exception — not a single pilgrimage of mine has been anything other than a sacrifice ; and this will be, and already has been, the most difficult pilgrimage I will ever have attempted.

There’s still a part of me, as I think there is in all pilgrims, “true” or otherwise, that would like to slip into the easier world of the “tourigrino” experience, into the straightforward 5-6 weeks of a more leisurely social Camino, with no real worries about whatever — except that the one time that I actually attempted it, all of my money was stolen anyway, so I was back at the usual ground zero pilgrim life that seems to be my lot … Ultreia (Carry On) e Sus Eia (and away with you) …

One makes jokes and criticisms about one’s fellow pilgrims along the Way, even simply as a means to relieve one’s own tension, but at the end of the day we are ALL of us imperfect pilgrims, and there’s not a “true pilgrim” among us.

Every rich man and pauper, every “purist” and every bus-pilgrim, every devout Catholic and every self-seeking tourist-pilgrim, we are all of us just as much “true pilgrims” as fakes, because none of us has any better right to the Way than any other, and because we are ALL of us headed towards Santiago.

The hands down BEST Camino advice that has ever been given me was in a little booklet distributed back in the 90s by the legendary mademoiselle Warcollier, Founder of the Paris Association and Archivist of the Camino (and Editor of the modern edition of the Codex Callixtinus) — “La seule chose importante c’est d’arriver à Saint-Jacques” — “The only important thing is to reach Santiago”.

No matter any of our own imperfections — that is the perfect advice for ANY pilgrim.

No matter how, no matter the hardships, no matter how others will look at you, criticise you, misunderstand you, think you’re mad, attempt to discourage you, hinder you, laugh at you, or simply disdain you — the only true pilgrim Way is to the end of the Way. Let nothing and nobody prevent that, and you’ll be as true a pilgrim as any other.

I am advancing my departure date from early August to the end of July — and to the four winds with the consequences !!!

That is my Camino.

Julian Lord…

I can’t believe it.

I posted that at 4:44pm

Did not intend that at all…

(It’s now a bit after 5pm, and I’d just like to add – with that post, I pressed PUBLISH on the WordPress site, then straight away I picked up my iPhone to check for emails. I have my clock on my iPhone as a screensaver, and I saw that it was 4:44pm. Prior to that I had no idea of the time. It could have been 4pm or 5pm or 6pm – I didn’t have a clue. I must admit, this has really knocked me sideways. I find this so weird… )

Further to my dream last night, and the 4:44 message that the angels have my back – today I booked flights out of Australia on… yes… the 4th of September.

Jennifer and I will be heading first to India, which is where I’ll start filming.

I’ll interview scientists and sadhus, psychics and physicists. I’ll go to sacred cities on the Ganges, and I’ll go up into the holy regions of the Himalayas.

I’ll also go to Dharamsala, the home of the Dalai Lama.

One thing I’ve read which has stuck – if you have purpose and you get a clear message to get on with it, then you have to get on with it.

You can’t ignore these messages.

So I’ve taken the first step. And I’m excited…

(I took this photo below of a holy man on the banks of the Ganges two years ago, while attending a pilgrimage to celebrate the first monsoon waters)

My wife and I took our son to lunch yesterday at one of the more picturesque wineries outside of Mudgee. Clancy is 25 years old, works in the music industry, and doesn’t visit us often. So we figured a lunch was required.

I’d got dressed yesterday morning in readiness for a walk – brace, stocking, Asolo boots etc – but I never got the time. Phone calls, a leaky tap, a work-related Skype call to LA delayed me – and then it was time for lunch.

So I went to lunch at this upmarket winery restaurant dressed in my walking clobber, including rain jacket. Luckily I did, because suddenly some very bad weather moved in.

Gale force winds, a big temperature drop, and driving rain.

The restaurant was outside on a patio, enclosed by transparent plastic blinds that were whipped into a frenzy by the wind.

Clancy had ordered a pork chop that looked delicious. Jennifer a walnut salad, and me an anchovy and tomato pizza. We drank some of the winery’s beautiful Barbera.

The weather got worse. It seemed like the wind was going to blow the blinds away. The trees outside were whipping from side to side like they were going to uproot.

We finished our meals, the skies outside darkened even further as the storms kicked up another notch, I said my goodbyes to my wife and son, and walked out.

I began to walk the 8kms home in the gale.

As I walked along the beautiful country lane leading away from the winery back into town, it began to sleet. It was freezing. And the winds unleashed their full ferocity.

I bent my head to keep out the horizontal rain. I put my hands in my pockets to keep them warm.

Some time later Jennifer pulled up alongside me in the car and asked if I wanted to hop in. I smiled and shook my head. Once I set my intention I’m hard to deflect. She drove off and I kept walking. Soon I found my rhythm and began to warm up.

Above me, the clouds swirled.
Around me, the wind roared.
Inside me, I only heard music.

It has to go down as one of the most glorious walks I’ve ever done.

(I wasn’t able to take any photos, because I didn’t want to get my iPhone wet, but here is a shot from one of my Mudgee walks when it wasn’t raining…)

I’ve been back from the United States a little over a week now, and I’m being tested.

While I was in Los Angeles I had an epiphany. I mentioned this in the post Finding a Saint in the City of Angels. 

I’d stepped into the Yogananda Lake Shrine Temple up on Pacific Pallisades. I’d sat on a chair looking at the wall in front of me. There was an array of portraits of Sacred Masters on the wall.

I began to meditate, and as I slipped into a stillness I got a sudden and very clear, very unambiguous message: The message was that I had to stop eating meat.

More than that, I was told that if I was about to eat meat, then I had to imagine that I was looking into the eyes of the creature or beast that I was about to eat, and ask myself whether I felt comfortable killing the animal.

Hmmmm.

Anyone who knows me, anyone who’s spent any time with me, anyone who’s walked with me, knows what an eager carnivore I am. More than eager, the word voracious springs to mind.

Those of you who’ve followed this blog might remember on my Camino last year, I tracked down a restaurant that specialised in steak and I gorged myself on a Fred Flinstone sized chunk of meat, conveniently cut into bite sized pieces, that still resonates with me as being the best steak I’ve ever had – ever.

Those of you who went on the Camino Portuguese tour will remember the gusto with which I attacked the Portuguese chicken meals that were placed in front of me.

Think of a Great White Shark and chum.
Think of the T-Rex being fed in the opening scene of Jurassic Park.
Think of a pack of rabid dogs attacking a hapless fawn. 

That was me and Portuguese chicken.

I’m not a natural vegetarian. But since that moment in the temple I’ve not eaten meat. I’ve had salads and beans and tofu and nuts and more beans and chick peas and lentils and miso soup.

And some fish.

I stared into the eyes of that fish and thought – you’re gone buddy.

When I got back from America I went on a three day fast. I needed to clean my body out. Tonight I’m having spinach pie with feta cheese and carrot salad.

Can I keep this up? I really don’t know.

I’m not being silly about it. The Buddhist texts tell me to tread the Middle Path. If I’m invited to someone’s house and they’re serving meat, I’ll eat what’s placed in front of me, gratefully and graciously.

But I know that when I next go to Spain, it’s going to be hard resisting meat.

My son had pork chops last night. I love pork chops, but last night I had no urge to grab the chop from his plate and munch into it. I had corn and baked potatoes with an avocado salad. And it was yummy.

I travel to India quite a lot and over there it’s easy being vegetarian. There are “veg” and “non-veg” menus in the restaurants. Most Hindus are vegetarian. Restaurants are set up to cater for non-veg meals. Except those with a tandoori oven. Tandoori chicken in India is unlike tandoori chicken anywhere else. It is sublime.

When I next go to India I’m sure I will meet some chickens that deserve to die. I know that already, sitting here in front of my laptop in Mudgee. I will stare into their glassy beady little eyes and know that they are not long for this earthly plane. As I smell their succulent flesh simmering in that tandoori oven, I will momentarily lament their passing.

But then, maybe I’ll spare them. Maybe I’ll stick to the veg meals. Maybe the chickens will have a few more days picking through the garbage out the back of the restaurant.

I’m being tested. I know I am.

I’m not saying this is a life-long conversion. All I’m saying is that right at this moment I’m giving a lot of thought to the implications of what I choose to eat.

Too many times as I’ve walked along a country lane I’ve looked over into the paddocks and seen frolicking little lambs and soulful-eyed cows and I’ve thought of them being killed in abattoirs for food. It’s always unsettled me. But my desire for meat has always overridden these little stabs of guilt.

But that damn voice in the Lake Shrine Temple has changed everything.

For now.

Each day I try to be a good pilgrim.
I don’t always succeed.
But that’s my journey through this life…

How can you judge whether you’ve changed after walking the Camino? Sometimes the changes are so subtle they go unnoticed, except by those close to you.

Sometimes though the changes are profound and significant.

I want to tell you a story which has shown me how profound the changes have been within me.

My wife Jennifer and I recently went to Ireland to research the possibility of mounting a Celtic Camino tour. I hired a car out of Dublin Airport through Hertz. For a small additional cost I was able to upgrade from a standard car to an Audi A3 that was nearly brand new – it had only 800mls on the clock.

On the third day we drove into a small town south of Dublin and parked in a carpark under a shopping centre. We then went for a walk to explore the town.

When we came back about an hour and a half later I noticed a handwritten note under the windscreen wiper. The note was written by a woman who had witnessed someone crashing into the side of my car while trying to park.

It was dark, and the car was black, and I hadn’t noticed – but on closer examination I saw that two panels had not only been scratched, but staved in. There was extensive damage.

The witness had taken down the registration of the car that hit mine, and in fact had confronted the driver saying that he should make an attempt to find the owner of the Audi. But he evidently brushed her aside, did his shopping very quickly, then drove off without leaving a note.

That’s what prompted the witness, a lady named Angela, to then write a note and leave her mobile number. It was very kind of her. She was an angel.

I called her, quite distressed by the damage to the car, and she was very sweet and said she would corroborate her account with the police and with Hertz.

I then went to the police station and filed a report.

Why was I distressed? Because I hadn’t taken out insurance when I hired the car. I believed my travel insurance would cover any rental related incidents. But I’d never actually read the fine print so I didn’t really know.

Also, when I upgraded the car, the excess was increased to €2000.

i called Hertz and told them what happened. They informed me that even though it wasn’t my fault, I was still responsible for the damage until such time as their insurers could get restitution from the driver of the car that hit me.

So they would be deducting €2000 from my credit card.

Before the Camino, this is how I would have reacted: I’d have been angry at the driver for doing such a lousy thing and driving off without leaving a note. I’d have been angry at Hertz for the injustice of my having to pay for damage that wasn’t my fault. And I’ld have been anxious for the rest of the trip, worried that my insurance wouldn’t cover the excess.

I would have regarded the whole incident as a personal attack – as though the universe was conspiring against me to destroy my joy at being in Ireland.

i would have talked about it with Jennifer the whole trip, ruining our time in beautiful Ireland. And most probably I would have called my family and whinged and gone O woe is me. I would have regarded myself as a victim of a foul act and a massive injustice.

In fact none of that happened.

When Jennifer and I realised what had happened, we did a high five in the carpark and we laughed. We made the decision then and there that it wouldn’t bother us, and that everything would work out as it should.

I was very calm. I asked myself: what’s the worst that can happen? That’s one of the huge things I brought back from the Camino. Whenever I was confronted with something irksome or troublesome while walking, I asked myself: What’s the worst that can happen?

You can’t find a bed? Then sleep in a field under a tree. That’s the worst that can happen. And hey, it’s a fine night. That’s not so bad.

I figured in this instance, the worst that could happen was that I’d have to pay €2000 to Hertz. Losing €2000 for something that wasn’t my fault? Sure, that stings, but I wasn’t going to let it bother me. It’s only money after all. No-one was hurt. No-one was killed.

I wasn’t going to let it spoil the trip.

I didn’t allow myself to think about the actions of the other driver – whether what he did was right or wrong. I figured that was his stuff which he’d have to deal with. How did he feel doing that, and driving away? Probably not good. Irrespective, I wasn’t going to allow his energy to impact on my energy, and Jennifer’s.

I put it all in the hands of the Universe, and trusted that everything would work out. And then I left it at that and didn’t think any more about it.

Over the next ten days or so while driving around Ireland I never discussed it again with Jennifer. When I handed the car in the manager at the Hertz Office looked at the damage and tut-tutted – and said that yes, it was unfair, but I would still have to pay the excess.

He then proceeded to take €2000 off my credit card.

I didn’t complain, I didn’t gripe – I joked with him and walked away. That would never have happened prior to the Camino. I would have bitched bitterly.

When I returned home I only mentioned it in passing to a couple of people. I didn’t make a big deal out of it. And I didn’t criticise the driver. He would have to deal with his own karma.

I didn’t allow it to impact me. I got on with my life.

Everything worked out. The insurance company handled my claim efficiently and respectfully. Yesterday I got an email from them saying that they’d deposited the full claimed amount into my bank account.

I was pleased, but I wouldn’t have been angry or disappointed had they decided not to allow the claim. I’d worked out what was the worst that could happen, and that was ok.

(I am posting this from LAX and will be in the air for the next 15 hours or so!)

I’ve been in Los Angeles now about a week. On Tuesday Jennifer and I fly home. We’ll have spent nearly a month in the US.

We’ve driven nearly 4,500 miles – met some truly wonderful people – and workwise it’s been very worthwhile.

Here are some shots I took on a walk last night and again this afternoon around the Venice Beach area.