What Matters As I Start My Camino
My Camino begins in just a few days. I decided to walk the 500 mile pilgrimage on New Year’s Day, and with the full support of Nick and my family and friends, I’ve spent the last few months preparing, buying kit and struggling to find the right pair of shoes. (I’m expecting blisters, having bought my eighth and final pair yesterday and with almost no time available to break them in. Argh!)
Very soon, in just a matter of days, it’ll be time for me to board a plane to Biarritz and then take a train down to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, a small village on the edge of the Pyrenees famous for one thing – being the starting point of the Camino Frances, or the French Way.
I don’t know when I first heard about the Camino, but I do know that it’s been on my radar for a few years. I know some amazing people who’ve walked it (hello Ali, Marie, Kitty and Lucy!). However, until recently, it wasn’t something I felt I could genuinely commit to. Taking six weeks ‘off’ to walk over 800km? At best it was a fantasy, or something I might do a section of (and that, by the way is also the Camino - just not the one I wanted to do). But something about the last twelve months, and let’s face it, the last few years, meant that when, through tears at 2am on January 1st, I told Nick I’d been thinking about it and he expressed so much understanding and support right then and there, something rang as clear as a bell inside me.
I could make this happen. I could decide, and life would find a way. And of course, that is exactly what has happened. I’m pressing pause on work, my ex is having Molly for the whole time I’ll be away, Nick and S will have lots of daddy-daughter time without me, and we can obviously FaceTime.
So why now?
Well, my looming 40th birthday has affected me much, much more than my 20th or 30th ever did. At this point, I can safely assume that I am halfway through my life. We might debate these days whether forty is middle aged or not, but there’s no denying that if the average human life is 4,000 weeks, I’m already over the halfway line.
I suppose for me, doing this feels so significant because I have been asking myself the questions, ‘What have I done with my life so far?’ and ‘What do I want to do with the rest of it?’
So, as I set off to walk The Way, I want to share a bit about what matters to me, what I’ll be carrying with me, invisibly perhaps, but just as real and important as the backpack full of basic essentials (which I have still yet to pack or weigh - probably a huge mistake). Over the last week or so, I have been full of anxiety, and it’s felt necessary to sift through all the thoughts and fears and come back to my intentions. To allow my core to speak, and not to allow the fears to dominate. I’ve seen with undeniable clarity just how anxious I become when facing uncertainty. I’ve seen how perfectionism and rigidity set in. I’ve felt stressed, I’ve been told I look stressed, and to be honest, dread, guilt and anxiety have been much more prevalent than any kind of excitement or hope. A few friends have shared that they’re either going through or tend to go through the same rollercoaster before embarking on a big trip or transformational journey like this. Coming home to my reasons for doing it, to the why behind the way, feels imperative.
Here, therefore, are my heartfelt intentions. Here is what actually matters to me, right now, as I get ready for my Camino.
What matters is that I start, not that I do the whole thing.
That I remind myself (with love, compassion and as much humour as I can muster) that it’s an adventure; it’s supposed to be full of uncertainty. It might feel scary, but if I keep putting one foot in front of the other, something will unfold, and probably something far richer than I could imagine.
I am proud of myself for even deciding to do this and for all the prep and steps I’ve put in, literally and figuratively.
The people in my life are so supportive of me doing this. It’s ok for me to miss them while I’m gone, and for them to miss me. I already know I will miss Nick and S and Molly so much. I’ve already cried, have anticipated the heartache of knowing that I need to be out there, walking a really long way, whilst also wishing I could also be at home.
Yet I do not need to carry guilt with me. With every step I take, I’m walking my way closer to home, even as I step further away from it.
My Camino will be mine. Everyone’s walk is different.
I’m doing this for many reasons. To unplug from my phone and the pace of life. To let go of vaping, which I’m ashamed to admit I am completely addicted to. And to walk towards and into my forties.
What matters is keeping an open heart, to the people I meet, the weather I encounter, and to whatever life is trying to reveal to me or teach me.
If I’m in pain, or not enjoying it, and I don’t want to ‘push through’, it’s really ok to change my plans. I have choices all along the way. There is no shame in taking the train, no shame in stopping, no shame in saying ‘This isn’t for me right now’ and taking myself to a lovely hotel somewhere else if that is what I decide I want to do. I can give myself the gift of the Camino that I’m meant to have.
And, I hope I walk the whole damn thing. I hope that Nick comes out to meet me in Santiago where I, with sore feet and a head and heart full of memories, will walk onto the coast with him. I hope that this is the first of many Caminos I will walk in my life.
But most of all, I hope I stay open and courageous, that I allow myself to soak up every moment of this experience, and that I come home a better person.
There are so many ways to live our lives. This is part of what I’m doing with mine. May the road rise to meet me, and all those who walk before, alongside and behind me.