People close to me, or who regularly talk to me, know that I like to use words like “road” or “path” when talking about our cause. Apart from the fact that I like to think of my life as an expedition or a hike, and very rarely a walk in the parc 😉 this metaphor has so many suitable connecting points:
“…to make a change all you have to do is make a first step and you are on your way…” or ” a movement starts with the first step…”
“…we may have our differences, but we are all on the same road, our destination is the same. So even if we don’t go this road together we can meet again at the end…”
“…to change your horizon all you have to do is to move…”
“…sometimes you have to track-back a little to find where you took a wrong turn…”
And of course you have also realised during a vacation that because you moved from your ‘spot’ you meet lots of new people?
Seems like “farmer wisdom” as we say here in Holland….right?!?
“But where do you get this stuff from?” I hope you ask me.
It comes from my long lived love for hiking. Already in my youth my parents would take me to the mountains in Switzerland or Germany and we would walk for days in nature searching for fossiles or minerals or in the Netherlands in autumn, looking for mushrooms.
When I was a bit older, I went for week long hikes in Swedish Lappland, summer and winter hikes, very often on my own.
My last serious hike was about 300kms of the Camino del Norte in Spain; part of the “catholic pilgrimage” to Santiago de Compostella.
“What the h*ck?!?” some of you may think. “You? Walking with fanatic catholics to a so-called holy place? Were you losing your mind?”
Well, I may well be some time,s I have to admit, but this time I need to be a bit more elaborate…let me explain.
The road out of the valley…
In December 2008 I had a second heart operation following arrhythmia (irregular heartbeats) problems; the first one hadn’t done the trick.
An operation like this does a lot of things with you: you have to get used to the fact that it is a routine operation (nice for the doctors) which unfortunately has a high risk of you not being there anymore to regret that something has gone wrong somewhere anyway…
So, realising that the moment you close your eyes to slip into a comfortable sleep of oblivion, it may well be the last time you do!
This gives a a new dimension to the “bye-bye’s” with children and wife. But also makes you kind of ‘spiritual’ when you wake up again…
Then I started my road (there it is) of recovery up the hill again. The months before my operation I hardly managed to walk to the mailbox… Physiotherapy in the hospital to start to trust the system again…to put a strain on my heart again without being afraid of ending up in the cardio ER. Then at home starting to stretch my walks little by little, cycling to get my strength back in my legs, etc. But things were not going fast enough for me.
Celtic sun: based on eucalyptus fruit
I looked at my wife and I told her: “That is what I’m going to do. I don’t work hard enough on my recovery here; there are always good reasons not to… I’m going to do that walk and work all day on it.”
Well…we have been living together for over 20 years and she has learned that when I have put something between my ears there’s no stopping, so she also fully supported this crazy idea of mine.
So I started reading all sorts of inspiring stories and believe me, catholicism has mostly nothing to do with it these days.
(Apart from the fact that to receive a “passport” for the numerous hostels along the road you have to become member of a, still, very catholic organisation.)
Remeber this one: “Everybody walks his own Camino…”
You share the road with other folk, but each of us has his own reasons.
So…in September, a few days after my birthday celebration, I took a plane to Santander from where I started to walk.
No plan for the number of kilometers per day, no fixed target (Santiago was only a direction; I didn’t know yet what I was going to do in the cathedral would I get there) and only a vague time schedule I had to adhere to; I told myseld I couldn’t stay away longer than 4-6 weeks from Paola and the kids.
Now for those of you who have been hiking know this, but this for the others who haven’t:
When you start walking, at your own pace -without any competition or drive to performance- the whole world slows down with you.
Your senses become more alert; you see, smell, feel more intensely. You have time to take things in…you have a lot of time to think! Something which in our rat race these days is not always easy.
Scallop: symbol of the Camino
My camino was about finding my way back, to come to terms with my past, with the priest who abused me, with the church who protected him, with all the screwed-up things I did as a result of this and maybe, just maybe, meet that 13year-old boy I lost contact with in that horrible boarding school.
I woke up on the morning of the 19th of September, packed my backpack and started walking…
No idea where I would be that evening, how hard it would be, who I would meet, what I would see…total freedom! No worries…
From that day onwards and until the day I had to decide to stop because of problems with my knees, I walked and enjoyed every minute of it.
Sure I had some hard times being on my own all the time, not speaking the language of the locals who were always very interested to know where I was coming from (where I was going they thought was pretty clear), but in the evening in he hostels I have made acquaintances that all of them, not one excluded, were life-changing.
Rachel, the girl from Switzerland, I met on the first day sitting at the side of the road curing her blisters and who I only asked if she maybe needed some help and whom I met again weeks later and who still remembered me for asking. Just a passing face for me, but I had been on her camino since then…we had a cup of coffee at a hostel together and never saw each other again.
The German couple, Dieter and Nina, who were actually not a couple at all but whom had met on the way and decided to walk some time together, whose company in the evening I appreciated so much that I broke my own rule (“walking my own rhythm”) and started to follow their pace so that we could continue the talk where we had left it the day before.
Johannes and Paul, also German, young students, very fit, still kids who would ‘run’ hard during the day so they would have more time to go to the bays and beaches (the Camino del Norte follows the northern coastline) in the evening.
The Dutch girl whose name I don’t remember but who has so happy, almost manic, for meeting another Dutchman and to speak Dutch.
And the very special encounter with Elmar from Graz.
I met Elmar, or more Elmar met me, when one day it was extremely hot, the countryside wide open with no shadow anywhere and the itinerary had been getting more and more mountainous. On this particular day it was big climbs up, deep valleys down the whole day long…
It was around noon, getting real hot. I was tired and thirsty and resting at one of the numerous water sources built for the ‘peregrini’, before starting the long ascent I could see laying ahead of me.
I turned at the sound of the nordic walking sticks (“are these people expecting snow?”) behind me and noticed a massive man climbing up the hill with long, strong strides. When arriving at the source he stretched out his hand.
“I am Elmar, 66 years old, from Graz, and you don’t seem to enjoy the walk very much today. I am going to walk with you to the hostel in La Caridad.”
My first (natural) reaction was of “What’s his problem? Who does he think he is?”
But then Elmar is having a childlike innocence about him, in contrast to his over 2m posture, and I’m getting into a conversation with him.
“If you think I talk too much or you don’t appreciate my company, just tell me and I am off again…” He defuses any tension in me with his openness and disarming straightness. Had I told him that I would rather be left alone, I am absolutely sure he would have walked off with the same smile that now painted his face. But I didn’t. Actually I started to like this big bear-like Austrian…and so we started to walk together.
Elmar tells me that his wife has terminal cancer and that he walks this walk for her. Every night he calls home and tells her about what he has seen or experienced or the people he has met. He has walked the Camino del Norte many times before, as well all the other camino’s to Santiago, and they used to walk together, but she is too ill to come with him this year.
Although he has been numerous times to Spain he does not speak a word of the language and talks to the people in the villages in German and when they don’t understand him he laughs aloud or sings a song for them, in German. They seem to like the friendly giant and wave at us as we walk on.
We spoke about everything and nothing, from politics to nature and in 3-4 hours we arrive at the hostel (he already told me he wouldn’t stay at the hostel as he snores too loud and would be an annoyance to the other visitors). He shakes my hand, we say goodbye’s and off he goes to look for a hotel singing some crazy song, in a world of his own…
I sit a moment on the pavement in front of the hostel, enjoying the moment of ‘arriving’ as the door opens and the German guys, Johannes and Paul, whom I met several days earlier come out. They stayed around the place because there was a lot of surfing going on at the beach and they liked a little break.
When I tell them about Elmar ‘picking me up’, even before mentioning his name they both call out:”Elmar! You have met Elmar from Graz!”
I don’t know what to say, but they explain they once had a bad day, were really tired and laying somewhere at the side of the road when this big Austrian guy passed and told them he would walk with them as the road seemed a bit harsh for them…
At that instant I realised what was Elmar’s camino. That this was what his ‘pilgrimage’ was about: helping others on their way.
How he arrived their right on time?….twice?…I don’t know and don’t believe in coincidence or miracles, but know as well that we should not try to understand everything… Everybody has his very own camino…
I could go on telling lots of stories about numerous extraordinary encounters, but I (already) risk to miss my point in the magic of the moments… Why do I bore you with these musings?
Because in my eyes it all comes down to the same thing: walking, life, relationships, getting over our abuse, the road to justice, etc.
We are not ‘walking’ alone…
There are others who walk with us, adding their views and their experience to ours, completing us, supporting us. Sometimes we have to get over initial barriers to see the real value they can have to us, but if we let the ones in who walk with us as true-hearted companions, with no other profit in mind than to join their force with ours, we make each other stronger and we are stronger together.
The others, the traitors of faith and the abusers of the innocent and vulnerable, may try to point us in the wrong direction, to detours, onto winding roads just to tire us and keep us from our camino. It is not always easy to recognize one or the other, but we can not ‘walk’ alone. We need each other and especially when the road is hard and the climb is steep.
Now and then we may have to take different roads, because it feels better to us or suits us better… that’s ok… as long as we do realise that the purpose of our camino is the same.
We may not live long enough to see justice for what has been done to us when we were children, but we should do our part of the road and if not for ourselves, do it for others who need help. I can’t promise you that there is glory on the top of the hill, but I can assure you that there is a great view, new perspectives, and the knowledge to have done it with others who care, who have their heart in the right place.
I will be on the road and hope to meet you there and share some time with you and together climb that treacherous rocky path to recognition and healing, always aware of you, always caring…
Have a great camino!
Ton Leerschool
