Ten things I learnt on the Camino

It’s been two months since I finished the Camino Frances. I walked about 315kms, broke two poles, got two blisters, slept in lots of bunk beds and came away with three new soul sisters. All of the cliches come to mind: transformative, life-changing, a reset. It’s like the Camino has shorn off all of the parts of my life that weren’t working for me anymore and put me back together in a more functional way. But the real flex has been building the Camino lessons into my daily routine. This is what I learnt:

1. Shed things that I don’t need any more

I don’t need all the ‘stuff’ I thought I needed. I lived out of a ten-kilo backpack for 16 days and had everything I needed. I did get sick of looking out of cloudy glasses and drying myself with a cloth the size of a handtowel, but I survived.

I don’t know that guy called ‘Pareto’, but I sure like their principle. We only regularly use about 20% of our belongings. The rest ‘shrinks’ in the wardrobe or clogs drawers. The cull has begun (more below).

2. How important is it

I prioritise things that are important to me. Things that don’t rust or fade, like:

Relationships with my family, friends, animals and my sobriety;

Giving back to alcoholics and other addicts in correctional facilities; and

Writing and reading.

3. Practising empathy

On the Camino, I learnt the true meaning of powerlessness. I was powerless over pretty much everything: the weather; where I was going; where I’d stay, when I arrived; who I’d meet on the way; what I ate and how much I slept. I now have real empathy for those who have no agency: people in custody; detainees; stateless people; people impacted by war, homelessness and financial stress, the list goes on.

4. Live outside my comfort zone

This is huge for me. I’m a typical first-born, only daughter and a planner. A list-maker. It’s really hard for me to let go. But great things happen when there is a dose of the unexpected in the mix. On day one of the Camino I’d walked 30 kilometres in 38-degree heat with about six kilometres to go on a long stretch of road, a sliver of phone battery and half a CamelBak of water. I thought I was about to meet my maker. Then a taxi appeared from nowhere. (Taxis don’t just appear from nowhere in regional Spain.) I realised that something bigger than me has always looked after me.

When I live outside my comfort zone, I can do anything I put my mind to do. As an active alcoholic I couldn’t walk to the local shops without getting breathless. In the last twelve months, I’ve published a book and walked over 300 kilometres. Before, those things were about as achievable as holding sand in an open hand.

I now have broad milestones: I will publish book two in the next two years. If a door opens I walk through it, not look for the escape hatch. I’m making friends with ambiguity and uncertainty. It takes getting used to. It’s like putting the pilled tracky dacks and Ugg boots on the top shelf.

5. Continue sharing

Me and my Camino sisters looked out for each other. Everyone shared nuts, cold and flu tablets, glass cleaner, information. ‘Be quick and use the washing machine now, it’s free’. Now I’m back home, the 100 plus lemons and limes on our trees, we will never eat. So, I put them in a bucket on the footpath outside with a sign, ‘Help yourself.’ All gone.

The Dallas suits that I wore as a copyright lawyer, I don’t need to write a book or work in a correctional facility. They’re going to Dress for Success, https://nswact.dressforsuccess.org/ a not-for-profit which empowers women to achieve economic independence, in work and life. Books that I’ve read and loved are passed on to other people to read and love. It’s so liberating.

5. Make an effort to connect

Recovering alcoholics and addicts are isolators. So are introverts. It’s tempting to exist inside the Moss Vale ‘bubble’. Thinking about where I’ll pick up that bag of kale slaw on the way home. On the Camino we greeted other pilgrims and locals. Buen Camino! I now greet everyone on my morning walk. Morning!. Human beings are hardwired for connectivity. You may be the only person that person speaks to that day.

6. Let go of things that don’t serve my anymore

The shame I felt over the things I said and did when I was drinking, doesn’t serve me anymore. It’s like carrying around my ten-kilo backpack. One of the reasons why I did the Camino was to get rid of that shame. I did. I left it in Santiago at the Cathedral, along with my resentments and prayer intentions. Other pilgrims had the same idea. Telltale piles of stones along the way symbolised a grudge or a burden that someone left behind. I feel now, somehow lighter.

7. Don’t compare my insides to other’s outsides

It’s very seductive, especially with social media, to compare your insides to everyone else’s outsides. The Camino was a great leveller. No one asked where you lived or worked. We all wore the same drip-dry t-shirts and had the same frizzy hair. I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. Like people who have agents and publishing contracts and New- York- Times-selling fame. From now on, I’ll do me, and everyone else can do them.

8. Live in the moment

Every day I was like, What day is it? It was as if time at home, in our normal lives, stood still. Life was lived in the moment. The main game was getting from one town to the next.

It made me realise, we only have today. There will never be a better time to do something that will potentially give you joy. Yesterday is gone. We have no guarantees about tomorrow. Do things that float your boat NOW!

9. Be grateful

I remember everything from the Camino in technicolour, 3D and in stereo. The eucalyptus forest in Galicia (what were eucalypts doing in Spain!). The dew on the grass like a bejewelled necklace. The plangent sound of cowbells. Things that I took for granted pre-Camino, I’m so grateful for now, like: cotton sheets, a fluffy towel, a washing machine. As of May 2024, there are 120 million people in the world who are forcibly displaced. They don’t have those things.

10. Keep working on my thought life

If I’m walking down the street thinking, Why is that woman wearing black stockings with blue shoes?’, that’s defective thinking. They may be the only stockings and shoes that that person owns. If I’m on the bus and wondering, Why has she put her bag on a seat when others are standing? that’s none of my business. There may be reasons why that person is so preoccupied. Intolerances, grudges and judgments, be gone!

If you’re wanting to look at life with a new pair of glasses, I recommend the Camino. There is no right or wrong way to do it. There were people in wheelchairs. One pilgrim who was in her eighties. Another was wearing sandals. The journey starts from the moment you shut your front door…

Buen Camino! 🙏🧡

1 September 2024