Life Stories

A Pilgrimage Walk: When Humans Collaborate, Little is Impossible

To be open, curious, and embracing like a child. Be courageous and enjoy the small things in everyday life. Life is not only a battle.

Everything is soaking wet. And it won’t stop pouring. No shelter in sight; the road seems never-ending. The blisters are not getting any better inside the moist waterproof Gore-Tex boots. The good thing is that you can barely notice them as the urge to have a tinkle has been burgeoning for hours. Trying to find a bush behind which you could release the tension, but the freezing, stiff body cannot accumulate the effort. Just keep walking. Soon, soon (hopefully) you’ll get to a village. Your friend is 100 meters ahead, and your other friend the same distance behind.

You walk together; you fight together, even if you’re not next to one another.

You’re tired, even exhausted, but strong. Tired, but with immense recourses [more than imaginable]. Having companions make all the difference.

When humans cooperate, little is impossible. There are relationships and ways to interact with one another beyond those power games many of us [feel forced to] partake in.

These are not only some delusional fantasies in the mind of a romantic idealist. Don’t ridicule real life or real possibilities for such.

No, life is not all roses, nor is it all corruption and games to gain power over one another. Life is neither black nor white. Humans have within them both constructive and destructive potential. The more conscious we become, the more we can choose our actions [wisely, constructively].

This pilgrimage walk was like being reborn. Everything appeared more vivid: fields of flowers, mountain views, and simply having a glass of wine in the evening while conversing with companions. When obligations are gone there’s little choice but to be present to where you are.

I was reminded of what matters in life: the small. To be present now and pay attention to the small things and events.

It takes a bit of courage to rejoice in the small and show sincere appreciation to it and others. It is rarely sociably customary. It even makes many awkward. Though, it’s the best way to bond and connect.

(A shortcut to connecting is grouping together by bellyaching about ‘the bad guys,’ who’re playing in the wrong team — not ours. Within our group it helps us to connect in mutual hatred towards the reprehensible others.)

When you walk every day for a month on a path roved by millions of people during the last millennium, you start to notice and think about new things. You might imagine a person trudging this road 1000 years ago: how was his life like? What were his life struggles? Why did he take on this long and at the time perilous trail? Did he ask any of the same questions as you and I do today? He was likely a Christian, but he was also his own unique person.

The people you meet on the trail are not just any stranger on the street. She is someone, a person with a unique story. (Like every stranger really is, of course.)

Other people are never how you imagine them to be. Talk to them, and you will see. I am — to this day — continuously surprised. Sometimes negatively, but vastly more frequent positively.

On a pilgrimage, labels matter nothing. Political parties matter nothing. Here, you’re not a clear-cut identity. Here, you’re not your political group, your national identity or ‘race’, your belief or doctrine, your occupation, your societal status, or your social media.

Here, you are your actions. You are your real-life present actions. That’s what matters here.

You’ll meet people of all ages (babies to 80-year-olds, without exaggeration) and of all kinds of backgrounds and statuses. We come from different countries of the world; have different colors of our skins, yet everyone has something in common. We’re all unique, yet the same.

If you go on this journey alone no one will have any real preconceptions of your identity. It allows you to express latent parts of yourself. You might get to know yourself in a whole new way.

“It is only when the mind is free from the old that it meets everything anew, and in that there is joy.”

— Jiddu Krishnamurti

Here, you’re the person who always greets ‘buen camino’ to your fellow peregrinos. You stop to ask how someone is doing when they sit beside the road tending to their sore feet because you know how those blisters hurt.

The people you meet you talk to. You listen to. You learn from. Because you give yourself the time to be present with others, yourself, and your surroundings.

People pay attention to you. And you to them. This is a real exchange. This is not only a transaction.

You hear about great misery and tragedy, but more so of people’s will to rise again. People who are ready to heal and continue on their life path.

The goal of the day is to walk to the next village, or the one thereafter, or the one thereafter. The goal is to embrace the road there. Allow the things that happen to happen. The thoughts that come to come. You may learn that the solution to a problem arrives by embracing it, not escaping it.

When you travel by car, you see things flash by, without noticing much detail. It seems to make little or no difference. (But the little things make up life.) When you walk, you notice bugs, flowers, endless shades of green, and things like how different terrains tear on your muscles and joints. You notice your bodily and inner emotional sensations more clearly. You notice how the surroundings change little by little. Much more than you’d think. During one single day, the landscapes take many different forms.

You’ll walk on trails, pebbles, grass roads, on the side of the motorway, and if you cross the Pyrenees you might need to tread haft a meter of snow (if you walk in the early spring). You’ll cross mountains, valleys, hills, flatlands, and some winding streams here and there. You’ll pass uncountable villages and notice how the architecture slowly changes, depending on the natural resources in the area. You’ll come across ancient historical cities and towns worthy of exploring.

You get to wonder about the crops the locals grow. The fields of yellow flowers are easier to guess (rapeseed); nonetheless, feelings of awe arise.

Throughout the day you run into different people, a few of whom you’ll have enlightening conversations with. What’s noteworthy is the pause in between. When you walk for yourself and reflect on the conversations and how to make sense of it all. (This invaluable luxury we hardly ever give ourselves in everyday life.)

Thoughts that emerge within can be dealt with — there are few distractions to escape to. This is when oblique can become clear.

You need to contemplate. That’s where the good emerges. Painful at first. At times even excruciating. Things that you haven’t reconciled approximate the surface and you’re handed the choice: to deal with them or to suppress them again. (That’s what freedom implies.)

“If we go down into ourselves, we find that we possess exactly what we desire.”

— Simone Weil

Walking for a month is neither a holiday nor a vacation. Though it is a time to enjoy and share with others. It’s also a rare opportunity to meditate and contemplate life. Your life. Now. It’s your chance: stop and pay attention to what life is and what you want from it and yourself. What you’re willing to struggle for. The sacrifices you need to make to do what you need to do. Before life passes you by.

Life is paying attention. Life is feeling gratitude. Life is a journey. Life is filled with (painful) lessons: only the ignorant reject them. Life is a long path, sometimes you take a wrong turn and get lost. By paying attention to yourself and your surrounding you can find your way back.

Don’t take the highway. Don’t do what everyone else is doing — think for yourself, find your true way. Your path is unique. Even if you’ll share it with others for longer or shorter stretches of time.

Others get lost too. Guide them if you can, but don’t try to force them to take the same path as you.

You need to strive for something. You have gifts to share with others. Your task is to discover what they are and refine them.

With an aching body, you continue forward. But you also pause when you need to recover and heal. Take care of your mind and body, and accept the kind care of others when it’s offered. And if you dare: give to others what you yourself have been lacking in life. That’s being constructive instead of destructive.

And don’t forget…

Take a rest in the grass once in a while. Lay down. Birds are chirping, can you hear them? Feel how the sun warms your skin while you’re being caressed by the wind. Look up at the sky. The clouds take different shapes — what figures can you make out? Be like a child for once. This is your chance [no one is watching].

The proviant you brought you can slowly relish. ‘Queso con membrillo’ (cheese with quince jelly) is your luscious snack today. Explore every bite: the scent, the texture, the flavor, and the sensation of how it all changes as it’s disintegrated in your mouth. If you’re particularly lucky, your friend happens to walk by and sits down beside you. You share your snack, converse, and laugh. Then you enjoy the silence together.

The strength of your friendship is demonstrated by the fact that you can be silent together and still revel in each other’s company.

The road continues, whether on a pilgrimage or not.

Thanks for reading