Remember to regularly look inside yourself to build awareness, but never forget to keep looking up and around lest you lose your way.

 

One of the surprises for me while walking the Camino was the interesting balance of focus it required.  As I’ve said, I began this journey with two intentions: First, to be fully present to each step, and second, to focus inwardly and reflect on the reality (or not) of God in my life. Without realizing it, I’d set intentions that would mean I’d have to balance looking both inside and outside of myself even as Anne and I tackled the logistics of navigating nearly two-hundred miles in two foreign countries. 

 

I am by nature a reflective woman. Often my thinking keeps me way too busy for my own good. Before arriving in Portugal I’d anticipated that we would have long stretches of contemplative walking, followed by meaningful conversations where we could share our personal insights with each-other. I was chagrined then, to discover at the end of the first day, I had failed to “think deeply” about anything at all. Too much energy was required to simply find our way and tend to our feet. 

 

The route that we’d chosen began on the newest of the official caminos, and so had relatively few arrows and scallop shells, the traditional symbols that guide pilgrims forward.  After six days we converged with an older Camino, the “Original Portuguese Route”. That path was well marked, and finding our way became easier. This was definitely not the case in the beginning though, when we often walked an hour or more with no direction at all. Sometimes, even when the arrows were there, they might be partially covered with beach grass, worn and faded on rocks at our feet, or obscured by encroaching vines on crumbling rock walls. They could be hard to spot even when we were paying attention. We had some written instructions, but these were so complicated and confusing that they often frustrated, more than helped, us. 

 

Sometimes we missed crucial turns in the twisting back lanes of small villages because we had been distracted by our own thoughts or conversation. If we missed turns in the countryside it was usually because we had become captivated by its amazing beauty and forgot to search for the signs we needed. Inevitably, when this would happen, we’d walk a ways and grow increasingly tentative. We would both have a sense that something wasn’t right, and that it had been too long since we’d seen any sign that we were still on the right track. We’d stop and talk about our options: Forge ahead and hope we didn’t end up lost, or turn around and hunt for the marker we’d missed? It was hard to have to backtrack, especially when we were tired, but we grew to appreciate that turning around sooner, rather than later, took less energy in the long run. Each time this happened I think we made a silent vow to be more vigilant, especially as the day wore on and the cost of distraction was greater for our poor aching feet.

 

At the same time I knew that that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to connect to myself and to God through the process of pilgrimage. I resisted the pull to give up on my inward journey even though it was easy to put most of my focus on the gorgeous scenery, and the navigation challenges we faced. It meant that Anne and I had to experiment and find a routine that worked for both of us so that we could have the balance we wanted.  

 

At first we thought that we’d use our afternoons, as we lay on our beds recovering from the day of walking, to meditate and write. We tried this but we learned that what we really wanted at the end of the day was to just rest on our beds drinking a beer and eating potato chips. Not only were our feet too sore to explore our new town, we found we were too relaxed to think! It didn’t take long to figure out that we’d have to acknowledge the obvious and adjust our schedule. 

 

We decided that the best strategy was to resist the temptation of an early start and instead use the mornings, when we felt rested and clear, to sit still and practice silent, inner connection. That practice was different for both of us. I focused on writing, and Anne meditated, sketched, and read poetry. No matter the particulars of our spiritual practice, we became committed to showing up to it before meeting the challenges of the day’s trail; We made ourselves travel inward before traveling forward.  As our time on The Camino progressed, and we grew more attached to our morning ritual, we found that we often wouldn’t even start walking until 10:00. It turned out that, even then, we had time enough in our day to travel as far as we needed. We also learned to look for opportunities later in the day, during stretches where our route was clear, to revisit our own personal reflections from that morning and share them with each other.

 

I’ve thought about this dynamic since I’ve been home: The value of balancing my focus between inward reflection and outer awareness. I see that my life, like The Camino requires both. I’ve come to appreciate the interplay between gazing inside and gazing outside, the need to remain both nearsighted and farsighted. Lose one and I’ll lose myself, lose the other and I’ll lose my way. What tricky business this can be, keeping balanced in my days!

 

There have been times, mostly in my younger years, when I believed I was too busy to slow down and look inside. Instead I worked on building a marriage, building a family, and building a career, and then used what energy I had left keeping the walls of my sometimes poorly engineered structure of a life upright. It would have served me well to slow down, travel inward, and ask myself what I really wanted to do, and how I really felt about my life rather than what I believed I ought to do or ought to feel. I learned the hard way the price of ignoring my need for inner reflection before allowing myself to move forward, and to ask myself the vital questions: What works for me? What would I do if I wasn’t afraid? If I’d learned this earlier I would have saved myself so many wrong turns. 

 

I suspect I was a little afraid of self-reflection back then. Having been raised to believe I was responsible for other people’s well-being, I never asked myself who I thought was responsible for mine. It took me awhile to realize that “happy” was an inside job for everyone, even me. Nearsightedness was an idea irrelevant to the more pressing priority of keeping other people calm and satisfied, keeping up appearances, and even sometimes, of keeping the peace. I think that tiny voice inside sometimes wanted to say “something is not right”, just like it did after a missed turn on The Camino, but I was afraid to stop and listen. I was afraid that if I did I might respond to it honestly and end up tipping over apple carts that could never be righted. In hindsight I see I might have, but I also see that just like on The Camino, it would have taken less energy to regroup and change direction sooner rather than later, when more time had passed and the stakes were higher for everyone. Now I know that life is full of invitations to stop, feel, shift direction, and get back on track. I know it’s always worth it, even if it causes conflict, or my pride. I know it, but even now I have to make myself stop and think and feel before I mindlessly move forward like I did “in the old days”.

 

Lately though, I find that sometimes I’m too nearsighted for my own good. I ask myself questions that I never asked before and, as I feel how quickly time is passing, I don’t like the answers I come up with. Sadness makes me irritable and anxious. I have had a tendency, especially this year as I have experienced the loss of my parents and my own aging, to become so introspective that my feelings practically overwhelm me. I’m more sensitive, and I can’t seem to shake the resentments that bang around in my head like a shoe in a dryer.  I think grief has a way of making me self-absorbed and this has been a year of loss. That’s not all bad, it takes energy to get over losing people you love, but I have to be careful that I don’t forget to look up and around and remember what, and who, I still have. I don’t want to miss the yellow arrows and scallop shells that keep pointing me forward in my life by overly indulging my tendency to focus on what I’m leaving behind.  I know it’s good to honor my feelings, but I have to remember that what I pay attention to I make bigger; I have to be careful where I stare.  

 

I listened to a friend, an avid mountain biker, share with a group the other day that to have a “clean” ride on a rough trail she keeps her focus ahead, where she wants to go, rather than too close in, on the obstacles she’s trying to avoid. That’s how she keeps her balance and moves smoothly down the trail. It’s a useful analogy for me. I know it’s true, that my energy follows my gaze, and I need to remind myself that I don’t want to lose myself to morose introspection and miss the trail markers to joy. Just like on The Camino, I need to remember to balance my energy and my perspective and think about how I want to fit my feelings into the larger scheme of things. Like it or not, “happy” is still an inside job.

 

Reflections:

 

Anne and I eventually got the knack of balancing our focus. We weren’t ever perfect of course but we improved with practice. We got used to looking up, looking around, searching for signs, and using our heads, as we learned to accept that we didn’t have the luxury of extended periods of inward reflection while walking.  At the same time we grew increasingly attached to our quiet mornings and would even set our alarms early to make sure we had plenty of quiet time. We never missed a day of asking ourselves, and God, tough questions, and even today I feel the difference for having made space to listen for the answers. We made sure that our camino, like life, moved inward even as it moved forward. I’m incredibly grateful for every, single mile we walked and every insight I was granted.

 

    1. Does your life include regular opportunities for prayer, meditation and reflection?

    2. Take a moment to sit quietly and feel what your life really feels like

today. Is there anything in you whispering that you have moved slightly off course

and away from your true self?         

                               

                                   Simple awareness is enough for today.