In April of this year, I wrote some words on my previous attempt at keeping a travelogue, and my best intentions of doing things differently “this time”.
The public documentation of my travels currently exist in a small collection of photos on Facebook and Instagram, and some ramblings in my journal in which I am mostly trying to figure out what the hell is going on. (Those are mostly not suitable for public consumption.)
This time, however, I’m hoping that will change. That I’ll be able to document not only the outer, but also my inner journey.
You can read the whole post here: On attempting a travelogue
Ha! #famouslastwords.
Here we are, at the end of August – after two months in Spain and two months back in South Africa, and again this massively transformative journey exist in 40 odd posts on my Facebook page.
To be fair, it started out okay – from the time I arrived in Paris until I left Barcelona, I sort of fell into a rhythm: I’d go walkabout, exploring the city, and then I’d sit down and write a little something about my experience on my Facebook page, accompanied by some of favorite photos of the day.
Then I’d take that post, and use this blog to write more about my inner experiences – things I felt rather than sensed, some poems and thoughts, my deep impressions of this epic journey I, by then, had already embarked on. Things I wanted to remember, live by. Perhaps turn into a book one day. There are those #famouslastwords again!
I now reread what I wrote in those pre-Camino weeks and I remember it vividly. It feels as if it was written a loooooong time ago. France – and especially Lourdes – lulled me into a deep meditative space, and I was wholly unprepared for the ride I was in for the next 40 days and 40 nights.
Many people write blogs on the Camino – some write entire books while they are there.
Some people draw beautiful pictures of the cathedrals they visit, or paint watercolors of the landscapes. Some people cook for themselves and their fellow pilgrims in the evenings.
Not me. I spoke to God, and I walked Westward across the Spanish countryside. I took a gazillion photos during the day, and wrote a little about my days at night on Facebook. I was deeply well, and it worked 🤷🏻♀️
I processed a lot on that road, and I had deep conversations with God and I learnt hard lessons.
By telling my tale in that way I willed an audience into existence- a wonderfully supportive and encouraging bunch across social media platforms -which meant that my journey was witnessed and I never felt alone.
“Writer’s Block”
On the plane on my way home, an editor from a local Woman’s magazine asked if I wanted to write an article about my journey.
I was very excited about it all, but that’s also where things unraveled a bit. My attempts felt forced, and hollow, and at times condescending. It was something that “had to be done” rather than something I wanted to do. It became a chore, and avoiding it kept me busy for almost six weeks.
When I eventually sat down to write it, it was not a story of the Camino, but more about the second chances we get to make a worthy life. You can read it here How I got here – a recap
I’m still not thrilled about it.
A Camino Retrospective
I still want to document my journey, but it is clearly not going to be written on location. Or chronologically, or be even remotely complete.
At the same time I’m here now, with this new life to make of what I will. And there is this site. So we may as well continue.
It is said that a Pilgrimage (or any sacred journey for that matter) has a number of stages – the number of stages vary, but is generally accepted to be between 4 and 6
- A Yearning Not all who wander, are lost
- Preparation My Packing List
- The Journey
- The Arrival So where to next?
- The Sacred Experience
- The Return
It is often said that the real Camino starts once the pilgrim returns home.
And this is where you and I find ourselves now – I’m returning home after a long walk, and I’m attempting to make a new life.
Let’s see how that goes!
Daily Braveries 