A friend of mine works in hospitality.

That’s a genteel way of saying she works in a bar. Actually it’s a gambling bar, and it’s not very pleasant.

This friend is a very clever computer nerd. She’s a college honours graduate, but she’s taken up this bar job because it pays well, and she can’t get any other computer related work at the moment. For more than twelve months now she’s been saying she hates her job and she wants to get out. But there’s been nothing to go to.

A couple of weeks ago at work she tripped and fell down some stairs.

She hurt her foot, badly. She’s since been to doctors, podiatrists, had MRIs, the whole shebang. Not good. Her foot is damaged and it’s not going to get better any time soon. She’s not able to do her job.

She got her wish. She’s not doing hospitality anymore.

She’d programmed the Universe to enact on her wish.

Something similar happened to me. I was a young tv reporter, and all I wanted to do was make films. But I was good at my job – in fact at the time I was the best tv reporter in Australia. I’d just won the equivalent of an Emmy for TV Reporter of the Year. At the tender age of 26 I was the senior reporter on the highest rating current affairs show in the country. I was flying high, earning a lot of money, and loving it. But still I wanted to make films. Underneath it all, I felt empty. I felt there was more I could be doing with my life.

I was involved in a very bad car accident – I was a passenger in a film car that lost control and hit a telegraph post. The car was totalled and I ended up in hospital with severe spinal injuries and a smashed leg. (The root cause of my current knee problem.)  Ten days in intensive care, three months in the Spinal Unit.

I came out of hospital with the slate wiped clean. I realised that what I’d been doing was not what I really wanted to do. So I quit the show and I shifted into making documentaries, which in turn enabled me to later make feature films.

If I hadn’t had that horrendous car accident, I’d probably still be a tv reporter. And unfulfilled.

Unknown to me, I’d programmed the Universe. Sometimes if you’re comfy in what you’re doing, the Universe picks you up by the lapels and slaps you around the face. It wakes you up to your true purpose. To what you really want. Sometimes its methods are brutal, and ugly.

But hey, you asked for it…

You’re never too old to walk the Camino.

I wrote about this during my walk – The Camino is full of OLD PEOPLE!

Day 29 – The Camino is full of OLD PEOPLE.

There was a lovely comment/post the other day from a fellow who was 68 who spent 49 days walking the Camino with his wife – and they had a tremendous time. And it occurred to me that it would be great to look at this again –

What astonishes me is that people in their 60s and 70s leave the comfort of their homes and battle the elements, and any health or past injury issues they might have, and hike up and down mountains, staying in basic dorm style accommodation, carrying heavy back packs, as they walk this ancient pilgrimage route.

Walking the Camino is not easy. It’s not easy for a young person. It’s not easy for someone fit and strong. Much less someone in their 60s and 70s.

And yet I hear stories, and I’ve personally witnessed, pilgrims in their 70s leaving the young kids behind – walking longer, walking stronger, and with more determination.

On my Camino, when I think back on those that took buses, trains, and taxis, invariably it was the young ‘uns. A lovely fellow called Bob, himself in his late 60s, said the older folk have determination and grit. That’s what keeps them going.

It it a generational thing? Do the Gen Y kids lack determination and focus?

Mind you, I met a fellow in his thirties – he’d walked from Le Puy – and he was nailing it. Walking 35-40km each day effortlessly. So it’s not fair to make generalisations about generations!

I heard amazing stories of handicapped people doing the Camino, of people in their 80s, and also of those who’d suffered some dreadful personal tragedy which in its own way would be crippling.

What enables these people to do this most arduous of walks?

It’s the spirit of the Camino that I believe infuses them with something quite magical. It restores their strength. It gives them courage each day. It makes them younger.

It makes them capable of things they would never think possible.

You’re never too old to walk the Camino, and I would add to that – you’re never too infirm, either.

(below is a photo I took at Lourdes – an ancient source of restorative water…)

Some of you might think you have things to learn from me.

Perhaps you do, but I have more things to learn from you.

Every person who posts on this blog, I learn from. In responding to posts, I learn. In observing interchanges between you, I learn. From Sister Clare, I learn. From Steve, I learn. I learn from all of you.

Each of you is a teacher – my teacher.

The Camino was the big teacher. And its lessons continue from afar.

Some of those lessons continue through you.

So thank you.

Bill

Walking the Camino is like having a baby.

So they tell me.

When a woman has a baby, she gets infused with an extraordinary energy. The same thing happens when you walk the Camino. The energy infusion begins from the moment you decide to do the pilgrimage. The energy builds with the anticipation, and the expectation, of the walk.

And then when you’re there, and you’re finally actually walking the Camino, energy seeps into you with every step along The Way, from the soul imprint of everyone who has trodden that path before.

Every pilgrim who walks the Camino leaves a residue of their soul with each step they take. More on that from a past post here –

(https://pgstheway.com/2013/04/19/day-10-rest-reflection/)

But also you’re also energised by other pilgrims.  It’s a collective experience. Your energy joins with theirs, theirs with yours. So when you finish the Camino, when you get to Santiago, you expect a big payday. You expect fireworks and The Answers to the Big Questions.

Instead, often all you get is a vague sense of nothingness.

Is that it? I’ve walked all this way, and all I get is a sheet of paper? 

This is why the Pilgrim’s Mass is so well attended, I’m sure. Not because everyone who attends that Mass is a Catholic, or that they actually want to take Mass, but because these pilgrims are seeking a moment of closure. They were hoping that the end of the Camino would deliver them something for all that effort, all that pain. They were looking forward to something wonderful at the end of their journey.

What they don’t realise is that something wonderful was in each step they took, not in the final step. 

Women sometimes go into a big slump after they’ve given birth. Post Natal Depression. They’ve lived with that energy flow within them for nine months, and then the baby is born. That energy now resides in the life of that new child. It’s been transferred from the mother.

But at least with birth, you end up with a baby. With the Camino, you’ve got nothing, other than a Compostela and a bunch of memories.

I think this is why a lot of people go on to Finisterre – because Santiago wasn’t enough. They’re still looking for that something wonderful. For that big Full Stop to this long sentence they’ve been writing on their soul, and maybe coming to the End of the World will be that full stop.

When you walk the Camino, you have to understand that there’s a strong possibility that it will end in a whimper, not a wail. So you have to have a plan. Sometimes that plan is to do it again. Sometimes the plan is to simply acknowledge that’s how it will be. Anti-climactic.

You can plan to keep the Camino with you every day. You’re not only a pilgrim when you’re walking in Spain. You can choose to be a pilgrim afterwards, too. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing.

Remember, the something wonderful isn’t at the end, it’s in every step you take.

I’ve just noticed that this blog has now attracted more than 2000 comments.

As of 11am Sydney time, it was 2002, to be exact!

Yesterday, Sister Clare’s post (PC#25 – Something a little different), attracted 71 comments. That’s pretty healthy activity, given that this blog is just a word-of-mouth site.

So thank you, to all of you, who are contributing to make this a place of vigorous and fascinating discussion. It’s a nicely tight knit community we’ve got going here!

Bill

To all those in North America, happy July 4th!

I hope you all are having a great day – with your families, loved ones, relaxing, going to the movies, watching TV, walking in the woods, training for the Camino, whatever it is you're doing.

Rest days are as important as work days.

Your body and your mind need time out to rejuvenate. To take stock of what you've been doing, what you've achieved, perhaps what you've missed out on, perhaps what you've suffered.

Just as we can't keep going without sleep, nor can we keep going without rest. In sleep we need to dream, in rest we need to contemplate.

I learnt this on the Camino.

Some pilgrims thought it was an achievement to walk to Santiago without taking a rest day. Perhaps physically it was within their capability. But what about spiritually?

Sometimes you need to stop, to let your soul catch up to your body.

Firstly, I’d like to thank Sister Clare for handling the blog so wonderfully while I enjoyed my wedding anniversary with my wife. Sister Clare’s choice of topic raised a lot of comment, and she moderated with her usual dollops of insight and wisdom.

Thank you Sister.

The title of today’s post refers to the four central tenant of PGS – which is how I walked the Camino. I walked the Camino intuitively, using what I call my Personal Guidance System.

If we’re to access our PGS – our intuition – then we have to Stop, Listen, Trust, and Follow.

Sounds simple, but it’s so hard to do.

Stop: In this world that we live in now, it’s really hard to stop. We have so many demands on our time, so many distractions. To find a time each day to stop requires effort, and discipline. But you can only begin to listen to your inner voice if you stop.

Listen: We’re surrounded by chatter. Visual and aural chatter. It’s everywhere. It’s noise. And we’ve become so used to it that we’re often not even aware of it. How can we hear our intuition trying to speak to us if it’s drowned out by all this incessant chatter? We have to rid ourselves of this cacophony, so we can truly listen.

Trust: This is a hard one. You might get an intuitive insight. A calling to do something. But it means stepping out over the ledge. Trusting there will be a safety net underneath if you jump. Trouble is, you can’t see the safety net. Trusting your PGS, your inner voice, takes enormous courage sometimes. But its essential if you want to reap the benefits that your intuition wishes to bestow on you.

Follow: You’ve stopped, you’ve listened, you’ve made up your mind to trust, and now you have to actually DO it. That too is hard. Your intuition won’t hand it to you on a plate. You have to go out and make it happen. This is not about pasting $100 bills on your bedroom ceiling and dreaming that you’ll become wealthy. This is about trusting what you’ve heard from your PGS, then following your guide. Your guide only wants to steer you in the right direction.

It’s not always direct though. Take the guy that follows his intuition and he goes bankrupt. He rails against the whole notion of following your “gut.” He’s out of a job, he’s lost his house, he’s broke. But now he’s got time on his hands so he sits down and writes the novel he’s always wanted to write. And it becomes a best seller. He becomes enormously wealthy.

He wouldn’t have written that novel, he would never had had the time or the motivation, if he hadn’t gone broke. If he hadn’t followed his intuition. It’s not always a direct and logical path.

In the book I’m currently writing, which I’m titling The Camino – the Intuitive Way, I detail how I used my PGS each day of my walk. Invariably things worked out – but it wasn’t always easy, and there were times when things didn’t work out.

Those were the times I didn’t Listen, and Trust.

Today is my 31st wedding anniversary, so I'm taking the day off.

I would like to do something different though. I would like to ask Sister Clare to choose a topic to discuss, or a question to ask, and throw this blog open to you guys.

Right now, I have to go out and buy some flowers…

Bill

(Sister Clare, this photo is for you!)

A pilgrim walking the Camino has no status.

It’s hard to know who’s a millionaire, who’s a CEO, who’s a production line worker and who owns the factory.

I met a bloke, I thought he was a roadie for a rock band. Or an ageing surfie on benefits. Turned out he was a Professor at USC.

I met another bloke. Young fella. I thought he was a student on vacation. Turned out he’d just sold his tech company for $80m.

I met another bloke. 40’s. Would have said he was a high school teacher, or a dentist. He came across as a bit of a smart ass. He was actually a judge in the European Court of Justice.

None of the markers that define a person’s status are evident on the Camino.

No fancy clothes. No car. No big office. No staff or coterie of assistants. No waterfront mansion. No jewellery, or at least very little. You don’t see women walking the Camino with diamond rings or pearl necklaces. No Dior, or Bulgari or Manolo Blahnik.

Instead there’s muddy boots, and tech clothing, and ponchos. Or Goretex jackets, if you want to go upmarket.

Even the walking poles don’t really indicate status. You might have the latest Leki poles, but they don’t give off any signals as to your Net Disposable Income.

Backpacks too. No status there.

Weight and space are factors. Not much room in the backpack for that fabulous Hugo Boss leather jacket. Plus it weighs 2kgs. Nor can you really justify that Chanel handbag. Might get dirty, darling.

Millionaires sleep in albergues costing €7 a night. Heads of huge corporations sit down beside pensioners at communal tables and eat pilgrim’s meals costing €10. They pay cash. They’ve left their Platinum American Express card at home. (Sorry Amex, I did leave home without it.)

Everyone is equal. And in that sense, the Camino is quite unique. I can’t think of any other place or situation in society where there’s no discernible status.

Except maybe jail.

And in death.

Also, there’s no rank. No hierarchy. There’s no Sergeant Pilgrim. There’s no Governor Pilgrim. Everyone is judged on who they are and how they act – not on their material goods or their station in life.

Anything that you’ve achieved in life is meaningless on the Camino. It has no value there.

Except if you’re a walker.

We tend to bestow hierarchy on those who have walked more Caminos than us, or have walked further than us.

We grant hierarchy to someone who’s walked from Le Puy, for instance. We grant hierarchy to someone who’s walked eight Caminos. But that hierarchy isn’t something that’s come with them from their everyday life.

We’re quick to strip that hierarchy from them however if we discover that pilgrim catching a train. Or getting their backpack shipped ahead.

It’s a natural human desire to seek definition amongst us.

But a pilgrim has no status.

And that’s one of the joys of walking the Camino.

So we’re at 50,000 views and this blog has become a wonderful place where people can exchange thoughts and ideas. Some are Camino related, but often they’re not. And these discussions are often the most fascinating!

I love it.

Today is a perfect example, where several of you are swapping comments amongst yourselves, and I’m just sitting back, trying to write my book, 😜, and really enjoying what’s being discussed.

But I’m wondering, should I set up a forum attached to this site, to make it easier for you to really follow a thread, and comment?

This is not to shift these exchanges off this blog, it’s to provide a fully functional venue where it’s easier and simpler to post comments.

Also, it would mean that any one of you could also start up a topic. I don’t necessarily have to kick it off with a new post. You could initiate a discussion yourselves.

I would keep blogging – and I could imagine sometimes comments on the blog could spill over into the forum.

Let me know if you think this is a good idea or not. It’s really to make it easier for you all to have these vigorous and fascinating discussions within an environment that properly caters for it.

I would love to hear your thoughts on it!

Bill