It’s nearly 3 months now since I finished my Camino, and I feel confident I can now list some permanent changes as a result of the walk.

I will restrict this list to those “outward” changes that are most obvious, not the inner recalibrations and reshufflings that have occurred as a result of the walk, and are more significant than this following list.

But this list of “little things” indicates greater and deeper change underneath.

1. I don’t wear glasses anymore – I wore gasses for fifteen years before the Camino.
2. I don’t do Facebook anymore. – I used to be all over it, every day. I have no interest in, or tolerance for, small talk since coming back.
3. I don’t buy things anymore, unless I really need them.
4. I don’t worry as much. Not much bothers me anymore. I’m calmer.
5. I am slowly and steadily getting rid of things I don’t need.
6. I don’t collect plastic bags anymore. I used to never throw out a plastic bag, in case I needed it. That habit is now gone.
7. I don’t shoot with my big professional camera anymore. And I’m thinking of getting rid of it, and replacing it with a small mirrorless system.
8. I don’t turn on the house alarm at night. I used to do this as a matter of course.
9. I don’t watch or listen to the news obsessively, as I used to.
10. I cook more.
11. I drink more water.
12. I’ve become frugal.
13. I don’t shave daily anymore.
14. I don’t walk anymore. My knee’s buggered.
15. I’m writing a blog daily, and have created a forum.
16. I’m writing a book.
17. I liaise with a nun.

Who’d have thought that a “simple” walk could initiate such change – and I haven’t even begun to talk about the deeper stuff…

The Camino made me laugh.

There was a stage, during my walk, when it occurred to me that during the past couple of weeks, I hadn't laughed so much in years – since I was in my youth, probably.

And I realised that my face had changed. Physically. It was like the Camino had cracked a mask that had been formed by decades of life's vicissitudes.

Struggle, disappointment, conflict, resistance, anger, determination – all these things had etched their way into my face.

The Camino changed that.

I found myself laughing spontaneously – often over the littlest things. I found myself smiling while I was walking. I found myself greeting strangers with genuine warmth.

I discovered I was happy.

That to me is one of the Camino's most powerful restorative tools. The ability to make you laugh. To make you happy.

Please post here below any incident or situation that happened on the Camino, or in your preparation, that made you laugh…

Perhaps it’s an appropriate time to discuss loss.

Amongst the most affecting images I took on my Camino – images that really hit me hard – were the shots I took of the photographs of loved ones left on markers, tucked into wire fences, placed inside roadside shrines, and of course attached to the Cruz de Ferro.

I was reminded that for so many people, the Camino is a pilgrimage walk of bereavement. A time of infinite sadness, seeking solace for the loss of someone dearly loved, sorely missed.

Sometimes these photographs were simply placed on the top of a stone mileage marker, weighed down by a rock, and whenever I saw them I would stop, and look at the face in the photo.

I would wonder who that person was, how had he or she died? And who put the photo there? Was it a son or daughter? Was it a father or mother, or friend or lover?

Sometimes I saw a pilgrim stop by a cross or memorial by the side of the track, and they would pray. I wondered if they too were carrying the heavy loss of a loved one with them.

The Camino is there for each of us, not just for achievement or personal growth, but for solace, and for healing, and for forgiveness.

I didn’t take this photo.

But I found it today in an online gallery, and I thought it appropriate to post, in reference to the tragedy in Santiago.

What should have been a day of feasting and celebrations today in Santiago will have been a day of mourning.

I still can’t believe the timing, on the eve of St. James Day, and the location – on the fringe of the pilgrimage city.

For pilgrims arriving in Santiago today, having finished their Camino, it must be a strange place they’ve walked into. A grieving city.

I always think of Santiago as being a place full of light. And laughter. I can’t imagine there’s much light there today. Nor much laughter.

But it will return.

This train crash in Santiago de Compostela has upset Jennifer and myself – and in swapping emails with Sister Clare this evening, I asked her if she could make sense of it for me.

This was her response and I thought, on St. James’ birthday, it was worth posting as a separate blog –

Dear Bill

Trying to find sense in a beautiful world made by God, yet populated with fallable humans can be challenging. There are always things to be learned, though. Perhaps God felt it was time for some of those souls to come home .Certainly some  are now in a place of perfection where there is no more struggle or tears, but only joy and fulfillment.

God doesn’t  cause tragedies like train wrecks or falling towers- these are man made things influenced by man made faults, from inattention to safety, perhaps, all the way to the terrorist’s ego gone horribly wrong.

What God does, though, is stay beside each of us to share the burden of our suffering, grief, despair and mourning.He can ensure that these things run their course and reach healing, and He remains right beside us through all the stages of transition and recovery. Perhaps some of the souls who are in shock and grief now will for the first time realise that He is there, for real,  and will always be.

Perhaps it is the seed of a time of insight and new faith. Perhaps in inspecting the rails and guidance systems, a fault will be discovered that, repaired now, will save the lives of hundreds more who would have perished in the next, worse accident.God reveals Himself and His Love in times of tragedy, and certainly it is always the right time to see God among us.

On the eve of the feast of St James, perhaps He is calling the worlds attention to Santiago and the Camino, and the miracles that have been happening there. There is something He wants us to learn, the gift of Grace and freedom given from His Perfect Heart to be accepted.

What is certain is that God is weeping today with all those who are weeping; He is searching today with all those who are searching for news of their loved ones. He is confused and trying to find meaning today with all those who are seeking some sense of it all; He is wrapping His Arms around the children who have lost mothers or fathers or siblings, taking their fear of being abandoned away.

He is gathering His faithful from all over the world to pray for the souls of the dead,; and certainly He is inviting each of us to think about the meaning, the cost, and the sublime rewards of pilgrimage in a world where most people live too fast, and with blinders on.He will help each of us come to resonance about this tragedy;

He will help us understand the cycles of birth, life and death ; He will help us know in our hearts that in truth, it is His Love that heals all things, and He will wipe all tears from our eyes.

Sister Simon Clare

One of the contributors to this blog, Ingrid, has alerted us to the horrific train crash near Santiago de Compostela.

At this stage it’s unknown how many people have died, but they’re estimating in excess of 50.

No doubt the train would have been full of pilgrims and others coming into Santiago for the celebrations on St. James Day, on July 25th.

Please send your thoughts, your prayers, your energies, your light, to all those who are being affected by this truly shocking tragedy.

Bill

I'm going to do something different for this blog –

I'm going to ask you to post what the Camino means to you.

Whether you've walked it or not.

In your own words.

Be as brief or as verbose as you want. It's your blog.

Feel free to comment on others' posts. Let's get a discussion going here…

For me? What it means is Sacred Transformation. An opportunity to recalibrate my divine DNA.

Let the discussion begin!

Anyone who's lived through the 60s will remember the term The Jet Set.

The Jet Set were these really cool people, mainly young people, who travelled around the world on jets. They were special people. They were with it! They were The In Crowd!

They lived life in the fast lane. Everyone wanted to be a part of the jet set.

It's funny now, but at the time it was the epitome of cool.

Cut to 2013.

Cut to The Camino.

Cut to pilgrims..

They're The Slow Set!

They're the people who want to live life in the slow lane. They don't want to move fast. They don't want to catch jets or speedy trains. They want to walk!

They want to spend time looking around, savouring each moment, talking to other Slow Set people.

There's a movement in gastronomy called The Slow Cooking movement. Where the uniqueness and flavour of a dish comes through the slow and careful cooking process.

I think some of us are getting bored with the quick and superficial lives we're living. I believe that's one of the reasons the Camino is becoming so popular.

Because people are intrinsically wanting to slow down.

A water-skier goes fast to skim over the surface of a river or lake. That skier never sees beneath the surface. Unless he or she slows down.

In writing my book, it’s forcing me to go back and remember detail I’d conveniently forgotten – like my various obsessions.

One of my obsessions was finding the right walking stick, or Pilgrim’s Staff, as I chose to call it. (note the capitals please.)

When I got to St. Jean, after something like forty hours of travel from my home in Australia to the L’Esprit du Chemin albergue, all I wanted to do was three things: Get my passport, buy an Opinel knife, and buy a Pilgrim’s Staff.

The passport was easy. I got that from the Pilgrim’s Office. The Opinel knife was less so. I had to go to a few stores to get exactly the right kind. It had to be Opinel – the classic French farmer’s knife – and it had to be big enough to cut cheese and chorizo, but not so big that it weighed me down.

But finding the right Pilgrim’s Staff proved to be the most difficult of all.

I didn’t want one of those mass produced broom-stick kind of staffs. Nor did I want one of those silly tourist staffs with a gourd hanging off the top. I also didn’t want one with a leather strap. I wanted one that was in keeping with “the romance of the pilgrim.”

The “romance of the pilgrim” was something I’d gleaned off medieval paintings, and statues in churches. You didn’t see pictures of St. James holding a broom stick, or dare I say it, trekking poles. No, he invariably had a gnarled tree branch.

That’s what I went looking for that afternoon I arrived in St. Jean. A gnarled tree branch.

Needless to say, it proved difficult.

But I am nothing if not tenacious.

I did three circuits of the town, going from store to store, checking out every single staff, looking for my gnarled tree branch. Looking for a staff that had The Romance of the Pilgrim. 

I never found it, of course. I ended up with a stick that was slightly deformed, that I pretended was gnarled. But given that I was jetlagged, and I’d worn out my welcome with all the storekeepers, I figured it would have to do.

Humorous and pathetic as it might sound, my obsession was real. I did require just exactly the right stick for me to feel comfortable embarking on my pilgrimage. I was clutching onto this notion of what it was to be a pilgrim.

It wasn’t long after that my knee flared up and I was forced to throw away that deformed stick and buy a pair of trekking poles. Trekking poles to me were the antithesis of The Romance of the Pilgrim. 

But they got me through to Santiago.

I had to let go my obsessions, to discover what it was to be a true pilgrim.