The Pilgrim Road
David Whyte has a new book of poetry coming out, Still Possible, a title which he says perhaps speaks to all of us at every threshold in our lives, and most particularly in this time, as we lift our heads above the COVID parapet and look to getting back on our pilgrim road. In a recent Facebook post, he shares a poem and writes that as these lines remind us, even half-hidden away, even before we feel we have begun again, we are still on the road, and we always have been.
For The Road To Santiago
For the road to Santiago,
don’t make new declarations
about what to bring
and what to leave behind.
Bring what you have.
You were always going
that way anyway,
you were always
going there all along.
- David Whyte
Walking the Camino de Santiago was top on my bucket list for years. I wanted to walk the French Way, all 780 kilometres, stretching from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port near Biarritz in France to Santiago in Spain. But as the years went by, the French Way became more popular; in 2019 almost 350,000 pilgrims walked the route. I began hearing stories of people taking taxis to reach hostels so they could get a bed for the night, pilgrims walking extra kilometres to find a bed, and some having to sleep outdoors. This did not sound like the ideal conditions for solitude and reflection.
At the time I did not know that there were multiple Caminos. I did some further research and 5 years ago, at the age of 58, I began my 280 km journey along the Portuguese Coastal Camino, from Porto to Santiago de Compostela, a less-traveled route than many of the other Caminos. My pilgrimage was lonely at first; I only met a handful of travellers. But soon I was caught up in the beauty of my surroundings, the roar of the ocean, and the solitude. Time slipped away and I was reluctant to stop walking at the end of the day as my night’s accommodation came into view.
So, why a pilgrimage? A pilgrimage is described as a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of a new or expanded meaning about their self, others, nature, or a higher good, through the experience. It can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life.
I wrote about my reasons for walking in the Camino in my blog post, A One Way Ticket Home. I stood on the cusp of 60 and felt old. My mind was still sharp, my body was still fit but I felt like I was looking at the end of the road! I could not fathom what I would do for the next 10, 20, 30 years. I could not imagine what might feed my soul and sustain me for the coming years. The Camino was part of a longer trip that helped me discover that I have to slow down and enjoy the journey, despite occasional discomfort, and trust that my life will find the right path.
Whyte’s poem resonates for me because these past eighteen months, living through COVID, have striking similarities to a pilgrimage. I expect those of you who have also gone on pilgrimages can relate. I have spent much of this time alone, mostly enjoying the solitude but at times feeling a deep sense of loneliness. I have immersed myself in the outdoors, in the simple joys of nature. I have started every morning with a walk, enjoying the beauty of my neighbourhood. Walking along the river every morning I have listened to birdsong, rejoiced at the gentle breeze on my face, and engaged in deep conversations with relative strangers. I have felt lost, and a deep sense of uncertainty. And I have spent a lot of time in reflection, with moments of deep clarity.
As Whyte wrote, we are still on the road, we always have been. This COVID journey continues, although I am hopeful that it is nearing the end. But unlike the Portuguese Coastal Camino, where I was reluctant to stop walking at the end of the day, I am ready to put this pilgrimage behind me.