Yoga and the Camino de Santiago

“At its heart, the journey of each life is a pilgrimage, through unforeseen sacred places that enlarge and enrich the soul” John O’Donohue
 
The Camino de Santiago has always been a dream of mine from the time I first read “The Pilgrimage” by Paulo Coelho back in the mid 1990’s. The book is a recollection of Coelho’s experiences as he made his way on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, across Northern Spain. The book is part adventure, part self discovery and part insight into the simplicity of life. The book had me at “part adventure!” Since reading the book and patiently envisioning a time I might walk the Camino, my dream finally came true in June of 2023 when I was invited to walk the Portugues Coastal Camino with a friend. It did not take long to answer with a resounding “YES.” Now, after having had my own 280km version of this epic journey, I understand the adage “the Camino really starts when you get home.” I’ve been home for over a month now and I am still integrating and digesting the experiences I had. The mysteries and insights gleaned along the way are slowly but surely revealing themselves to me. I’m not going to lie though, I miss the routine of getting up, walking, meeting people from all over the world, arriving at my destination, washing myself and my clothes, eating, sleeping, and getting up to do it all again the next day. Although physically demanding on the body, this routine is a simple recipe that allows for a profound meditative quietness and deep reflection if you’re willing to take the mission.
 
Using just my two legs walking from town to town like so many pilgrims before me dating as far back as the 12th century felt like a real achievement. So, when I returned, it's no wonder others felt that too and were curious enough to ask many questions about my experience. The three most common questions that I have been asked since returning are:

• how did I prepared for the walk?
• What, if any challenges and/or insights were realized?; and
• what happens now that I’m home?

 
Just like a profound meditation or Asana (physical) practice, somehow words can never quite capture the immensity or importance of a moment, but I’ll give it a shot.
 
I recall Baba Hari Dass (Babaji) writing “…those who climb mountain peaks practice every day.”  They say that the Camino starts from the moment you decide to walk. So, I started practicing by breaking in my new shoes and walking/training mostly 7 and 8 km walks near the ocean three or four days/week and couple of 20km walks just to show myself I could do it. I wanted to reduce the risk of getting blisters; and even still I had 2 consistent yet manageable blisters for my entire journey. Thankfully, I had compeed blister bandages that worked well once I learned how to use them properly. Note: don’t remove compeed blister bandages until they fall off on their own, it could land you in the hospital for necessary foot care.
 
Besides preparing my mind and body for walking long distances of up to 25 or 30km a day by training with my full pack. I took to heart what I had read from experienced “pilgrims,” so I was meticulous about what I brought. Over the course of a month of preparing, I packed, unpacked and repacked my bag several times. Since I would be carrying everything on my back, I wanted to be sure that I was taking only the absolute necessities and none of the what ifs. You can read my packing list here if you’re curious.
 
For those of you who know me well and my obsession of footwear, you will notice from my packing list that I still managed to bring three pairs of shoes! But that’s a topic for another day. The experts say that the weight of your backpack should be no more than 10% of your body weight, so I was excited, but also slightly mortified when my pack came in at 6.5 kilos or just under 15 lbs; you do the math! The moral of the story is, if you choose to carry your backpack, you don’t want it to feel like it’s a huge burden, weight matters. So, with my preparation complete, all that was left was to get on the road.
 
As the old adage goes “you can run, but you can’t hide” or perhaps a better way of saying it is, “wherever you go, there you are.” Not that I ever considered my Camino running from anything, but I was surprised at the emotions that would arise when I was least expecting them. The Camino experts say you don’t only pack your things, you also pack your fears. For some there is the fear of the daily unknown, blisters, fatigue, lack of food, not having a place to lay your head, at the end of a long day, you name it. Turns out for me it was fear of abandonment. I’ve done enough personal “work” to know that sometimes (not always) I unconsciously bring some of it on myself – it’s a deep samskara (latent habitual pattern.)
 
To make a long story short, I walked a little slower than my walking mate(s) and often they were quite a distance ahead of me. I could no longer see them and began to concoct an elaborate story about how they had left me behind and the insensitivity of it all – I mean, what if I hurt myself or got lost or, or, or. I felt deeply abandoned. It was the similar feeling and emotion that I’ve experienced in other situations when I’ve felt “left.”  For me the fear of abandonment is almost always accompanied by its close companion anger. In all honesty, in that moment the weight of the story felt heavier than my bag.  
 
Thankfully, through my 25 plus years of practicing and teaching Yoga I’ve honed the skills to realize when I’m making up stories, that contribute to my suffering. It didn’t take me long to catch on to myself and begin to examine the validity of the situation. During my Camino research, I also remembered reading the experts saying, “the Camino provides.” Not only did I meet an additional lovely walking companion, both the Camino and my Yoga practice provided me with my first salient insight to my emotional pain. I often think in metaphors, and while walking, it became obviously clear to me that as in life, we all have a different pace both physically and emotionally. Sometimes we are lockstep, walking side by side absolutely aligned, sometimes we’re ahead and sometimes behind. It was surprising for to me realize that although my pals were choosing a faster pace, I had also made choices; to slow down, enjoy my walk and enjoy connections with folks I met along the way. Now, instead of experiencing an emotional projection for my feelings of abandonment, it was abundantly clear that I had made a conscious decision and with that came the gift of empowerment and agency and a feeling of true openheartedness. Ram Dass's quote was never clearer "we're all just walking each other home."
 
Babaji’s quote came to mind “don't think that you are carrying the whole world; make it easy. make it play, make it a prayer.”
 
To be honest the other challenges felt like a cake walk. This includes going into the walk with an Achilles and inner ankle tendon issue that thankfully resolved itself within a few days. But it does stack up closely against my unknown fear of walking in the dark. Which, in retrospect is at the same time beautiful and terrifying. Walking alone, in the dark, on an unfamiliar trail, in a country that’s not my own, at times felt intimidating. To be fair, the guys whooping it up and hollering “buen camino” and offering me a beer at 6:30AM in the pitch dark didn’t help either. Which leads to my second profound insight and gentle reminder. Put simply, we are most afraid of what we don’t know and when we look at life through a lens of fear, this is how we see the world. Developing a healthy relationship with curiosity can unlock a door in almost any situation.
 
My third insight truly came as an unexpected gift. I had read that taking the ashes of a loved on the walk was a beautiful way to find closure. Many pilgrims have found a deep sense of peace and connection to their loved one. This sounded like a great idea, so I told almost no one that I was taking a small vial of my dad’s ashes along with me. It was meant to be a symbolic act of letting go of any attachments that I still had remaining along with the heavy, lifting that we (me, my family and most of all him) had been doing before and at the time of his death. I understood that this gentle act also allows the family member to become a part of the journey. My dad had been there for me on many journeys, and he didn’t fail me this time either. There were two extremely hot days, with temperatures coming in at around 37 degrees. One of them was particularly excruciating for me. I had to stop about every 10 minutes to sip water, catch my breath and attempt to coax myself into continuing with almost no shade. So, I asked my dad “if you can hear me, please help.” His voice was as clear as a bell, “you’ve got this kid! No problem!” I’ve always believed in this as an idea, but to have him actually “show up” was miraculous. It was and continues to be an important reminder that even in death (maybe especially in death), our ancestors are just waiting to be called upon for their guidance.
 
So, what happens now that I’m home?  Since returning from the Camino, I continue to reflect on the variety of the 280km of terrain that was walked. It’s a remarkable metaphor for life in all it’s forms in the sense that when I look back on it, it’s like looking into a mirror of personal relationships, the vast array of human emotions and life itself. Sometimes it’s mundane like the endless miles of boardwalk, at times the path is slightly concealed and walking in sand feels like an ancient pilgrimage through the desert. Sometimes you get help from bridges and logs to get from one side to the other. Sometimes, the road is challenging and feels hard on the body and mind (and ego!) like unforgiving asphalt, the bumpy cobblestones and walking uphill for what seems like an eternity. Sometimes you can see the big picture and know your place in it and other times you walk in darkness. Walking through the forest is a beautiful relief on the spirit where the trees and soft dirt offer protection from the heat and the incessant white noise of life. And then there’s the water! Where it all feels like smooth sailing; everything flowing harmoniously. In those moments I’m simply present, responding to what each moment is calling for, step, smile, step, smile. I learned so much about life, emotions, and relationships from the varied terrain. Of course, we each have our own version of the Camino. For me, this terrain is the perfect metaphor; full of all the inconsistencies and contradictions, challenges, and beauty that life has to offer.
 
Finally, there are the yellow arrows – finding them and allowing them to guide you is really the only work of the day. I liken the arrows to uncovering, knowing, and following the dharma (the right or true way for each person to carry out their life that serves both themselves and others.) Just like the dharma, sometimes finding the arrows and staying on track is complicated. There’s often a fork in the road and depending on the path you choose you may go in the wrong direction; I did get lost a couple of times and that made for long hot days. I learned during my Camino, that finding the “yellow arrow” is mostly a solitary, alone journey, that pilgrims do together. But just like life, when you find the “yellow arrow,” follow it, and trust that you’ll get to your destination. For me, my yellow arrow/dharmic destination is an ever evolving, unfolding of what is absolutely essential for the journey and what can be left behind, much like the pack I carried. The Bhagavad-Gita says, “It is better to do your own dharma even imperfectly, than someone else’s dharma perfectly.” At the end of the day, the only question to answer on the Camino and in life is, what’s your yellow arrow? Once you unlock that mystery of being you, follow it, you can never go wrong. Buen Camino.