"God made man because he loves stories."

// Elie Wiesel

// The Gates of the Forest

I've always had a slight intolerance for the most cliche marathon verse I know: "Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize." 

But today, 1 Cor 9:24 and I made amends.

I suffered through a 14-miler and was forced to cling to Anything it would take to finish. This verse circled and re-circled in my mind, beckoning me to pay attention in a new way.

It became clear and inescapable: "run in SUCH A WAY as to get the prize." 

While my eyes are continually focused on the goal, staring at the finish line, I am reminded that the Finish Line is not It. 

It's the way that matters. Run in such a way as to win the prize.

In the ways that the marathon parallels life, this is perhaps most visible. It's not about finishing, but the manner it takes to get there. For the marathon, it's training. For life, it's the joy, love, and grace with which we choose to live.

Lately, this has not been my heart. The word "gratitude" comes to mind... and how much I have lacked in it. I want to run the race in thankfulness - through the exhaustion, in the midst of disappointment, and straight into the questions. The manner you run the race matters; not the prize.

These runs are hard. Grad school is taking over. My job is time-consuming. But I will choose HIM - He will be my way. Only in Him can I bear any fruit, and I must turn my eyes and my heart to HIM alone to transform me as I run and "run" this race marked before me.

Homecoming.

When a journey comes to its end, it bids a sense of calling; a return of purpose, a reflection of process. The nature of an end is that it opens one to a new beginning as the transformed version of yourself plants itself back into the rhythm of your retrieved life- roommates and a city, a car and clothes and phone and calendar. The arrival at the end allows one to consider the meaning behind it, how to return as a new  you, what it is you will take back.

In the kilometers walked, interviews filmed, and people met along the way, I am confronted with the story of my own journey. Most days, I´ve wondered what it will amount to, what Santiago will reveal to me in this second homecoming of sorts... How it will feel different or the same or just as new as it did in August of last year after walking 500 miles to arrive.

Gazing upon the cathedral, watching tired pilgrims saunter into their destination, my sense of End does not come. A longing for a different end surfaces, an end of a summer of scrambling and travel in a backpack, the desire to simply be in one place is where my gaze rests. A horizon of my true home that holds the end of this journey, the start of school, and the continuation of friendships and community in Chi.

While this past year has been spent dreaming of a return to the Camino, I realize I am ready to lay my seeker heart to rest. What is it I seek in travel after travel? What is it I now long for? The next phase of my journey appears before me- the readiness to be home compounded with the desire to perhaps make a new home. This ancient cathedral shows me my Return; it took a second Camino to let it go and lay my wanderlust heart to rest for a bit.

To Chicago I return... Tired by the restless nature of this job, burdened by the planning and unexpected stress of it all. But also thankful for the release of this Camino pedestal, the captivity it held on my heart now free to fully settle into where I am home. Yes, it took a journey to bid the journey goodbye.

Goodbye Spain, I love you so much that I am finally ready to let you go for awhile.


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The Journey of Place: Santiago

"Journeying is the predominant means of developing one's self in this culture, not the habitation of place. It has been true of me. Always the seeker. Yet at this phase of my life, when I look at my house at the edge of a marsh, I want to learn how to be in it. I want to behave like a finder as much as a seeker. The irony is that I had to go on an elaborate journey to figure this out. So much of my growing older seems to be about paradoxes. The reconciliation of opposites. The bringing to balance."

// Sue Monk Kidd: Traveling with Pomegranates 

Letting Go.

In the continual un-pack / re-pack of the bag, routine of walking, following (/finding?!) Phil, and scouting arrows heading westward in the glow of the morning, I often question what it is I am doing here... The constant flow of sweat, sleeps in rooms of snorers, and grueling hills of the Camino are not exactly "summer vacay" status. While the routine feels natural and the walk expected, my purpose has remained in balance.

so many masses to attend when #followingphil

Yes, I am here to sustain vision, work audio, and take care of my crew. My knowledge of Spanish allowed Todd and Jess to get where they need to be, sufficient taxi and bus transit, equipment to the next locale, and even assisted Jess to get an official notary in Spain. But that is only a portion of my time... As I walk these tiring k's towards Santiago, I wonder if God has purpose for me beyond this job, a life lesson or goal or intention to follow here today?!

nightly interviews... happening best over chocolate and wine...

Mine & Hers ;)

My mind is flooded with past walking companions, remembering the conversations under specific trees and coffees at particular cafés. As I walk the meseta right now, I feel as though the ghosts of past Camino pilgrims haunt my mind, building comparisons and the judgmental undergird of what the real Camino truly is... (MY way, of course...)

singing nuns in Carrion! Same ones as last year

when the sun rises, my favorite time on the path...

As I walk, a new awareness floats to the surface. After returning to the US last year, perhaps I subconsciously elevated the Camino with phrases like "the Camino will provide," "the Camino always makes a way," "the Camino calls..." - appointing a self-proclaimed role of "Camino evangelist" of sorts. In walking the same path, I realize the Camino is just one avenue towards knowing God... It is not the only way, the best way, or the 'you have to' way, as I too often believe. While I still uphold the healing power that comes from this pilgrimage, I also see it for what it is... a road that carries one through churches, cathedrals, cafés, and community as one makes their way to Santiago. The familiarity of the route has allowed me to let go of what was and make room for what could be. To allow the same road to show me that the goal is never the Camino itself, rather the seeking of God Himself. 

walkin in James' shoes...

A certain element of clarity comes in a return... Like returning to your college campus the year following graduation (guilty...). I distinctly recall longing for Baylor after moving home to Chi, convinced that just being back in Waco would provide me the joy I felt while living there in college. In my post-grad naïveté, I packed up my '88 Cadillac and drove the long road back. What I found instead is that it was not the same Waco of my dreams- the happiness and life was not specific to Waco itself, rather to what I had created there- memories that cannot be relived. Any effort to do so would surely end in disappointment. 

nights of sangria = necessary

Team Time at sunset

It is not the Camino itself that brings transformation, rather it is inviting God's presence to the Camino that allows the change. If I expect a magical, enlightening experience simply through the return, I surely will not have it. I have been walking this route expecting its very nature to change me, but it cannot. The Camino does not inherently hold that power simply through strapping on a pack and walking. The awareness and ability to find God in the process is ultimately what shaped me last year, and what I have to turn my attention to right now as I step. Relying on the Camino to do the work will not bring about change... I must seek God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. 

I am so lucky to walk this...

People continue to ask me - how do I live like this at home? The goal is not to return to the Canino, it's to bring it back with you. To be changed in a way that makes Home a Camino itself.

Who knew that a return to the Camino would actually show me how to let go of the Camino...??! 

same photo here, one year later...

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It was only three days after celebrating my birthday in Santiago last year that I stated: "There is no amount of money I would accept to walk again."

birthday celebrations with Camino Familia and pastel de Santiago 2013

And yet, yesterday I rang in another Camino birthday as I walk with the co-producer job I recently accepted a few weeks ago. Sometimes life is crazy like that...

my wonderful APOC hospitalera who made my day!

birthday presents come in the form of packets of almond butter on the Camino...

Jess and I were granted special access to the church apex after pronouncing to the hospitalera in Granon that it was my birthday. The eve before concluded with the best gift to receive: the highly coveted peanut & almond butter packets. I was awoken to light piercing through stained glass, a carried handmade pennant all the way from Ashley Peters, and a group breakfast song of "I would walk 500 miles..." When Jessica asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday, I answered: "I want to walk the Camino!" So we did. Through sprawling sunflower fields and echoed 'buen caminos,' eating my way through chocolate and croissants dipped in coffee, and the whole time loving life in my birthday crown.

It wasn't until we arrived 20k later to the town of Tosantos that life started to feel a lot less like my birthday and a lot more like a Camino Low. We entered the albergue as sweaty, exhausted pilgrims to an angry priest, a missing bag of equipment, and a completely lost Phil. I forgot my towel in the shower of cold water and the wait for the one toilet was about 12 people long. When I picked up my bag to carry it to my portion of floor space, everything fell out in a mess before my eyes. It wasn't until I learned that the only bar in town was closed because the owner was sick that I ran away with tears to the nearest spot of shade on the trail.

As I sat in the tear-stained dirt, I wondered how a day could turn so ugly... a day that should be about joy and presents and cake and celebration and all things I love most in life. That's what a birthday is, right?!

In these moments it feels like the Camino is so naturally handing me life lessons I will turn to for wisdom in days to come. Perhaps year 28 is blessed as it begins with this range of emotions, this contrast and conflict, joy and pain. I am reminded of the human experience in the gladness and grief. Yesterday, I am lucky to have had the gift of both... a glimpse of what I hope to feel as this year continues. Sometimes all it takes is a birthday breakdown to reveal it.


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To Spain... Again

Even now as I steer myself around the Denver airport with the familiar extension of my back resting on my shoulders, my home for the next three weeks, the pack that consistently reminds me how little I need to live and causes me to shed less and less- it doesn't feel real.

This was never the Camino return I expected and to say I wasn't hesitant to re-join pilgrim life in this capacity would be a lie.

[ ^ surprise bday celebration with roomies before leaving ]

Over the past few weeks people have asked me if I am excited and what I feel and what it will be like to return. I know what I should feel going back to this country that feels like home & this route that changed my life, but what do I actually feel??!

It is a road I have seen, a lifestyle I know; and yet a path I have yet to walk. Observing someone else's journey, walking with Chicago friends, producing a short film and working sound... It is a journey I do not know along a medieval road that I can't seem to escape. It beckons me back and my only choice is to say yes. It's least expected, unprepared, and slightly inconveniently wedged between my brother's wedding and the start of school... the timing feels so specific that I can't help but think there's a reason I am going in this moment for a specific purpose. 

[ ^ the team. Sound mixer, co-producer, DP ]

The truth is I am not lacking emotions, rather my mind & heart are an entire mess of emotions; too many to feel one way or the next. But the journey continues on, moving forward with courage, knowing that I am walking into a beautiful gift of the Camino with its road of challenges and triumphs, anticipating the people I will meet and experiences yet to be lived, excited/anxious/overwhelmed/scared... In wonder and awe at the great God to whom I point this journey. 

Thanks beyond thanks with a full heart. And a BUEN CAMINO.

Until Logrono...

[ ^ O'Hare. Where the journey began for these two a week ago... ]

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Since Returning

I've been home officially two weeks and will leave again in one more.

The day I returned my car died, our locks were changed, we had a new roomie move-in, and I hosted the co-producer of "Walking the Camino." The next day, I marathon trained 10 miles, reunited with friends at a wedding, released the film in Chicago with a tapas celebration of thirty friends, and co-hosted a bridal shower for Michael's beautiful fiancé (my soon-to-be-sis-in-law!) Jillian. The day after, I was offered a job producing a documentary short along the Camino, assembled a crew, continued to work full-time for "Walking the Camino," and was handed a plane ticket to Spain taking off a week from today.

.... Is it any surprise that I collapsed on the couch around 7pm on Saturday and called it Bedtime?!

I'm busy, overwhelmed, and certainly missing the peace of the Wilamette River.

At the same time, my heart is so filled with thanks & overflowing with gratitude for such loving friends that surround me and opportunities I never could've predicted... I wouldn't trade a single bit of the Crazy for an ounce of Normal.

I don't know how it is possible: the stress weighed with the joy, the light with the dark, the busyness with the peace. I'm learning to find each day as it is: a new opportunity to walk with God and respond to what He puts in my path.

Although it is still completely surreal that I will be returning to Spain (this time with a backpack of DSLR's & a crew of close friends) there's an ease with which I approach this new journey; this path that fills my thoughts & opens my heart. The foreign country that feels more like home than USA most days and the trail I was on just one year ago that changed me forever. While the past year has fully affirmed the saying the real Camino starts when you return home - the phrase has never felt more alive than in this very moment.

I will walk the same path, but a different Camino. A new story for a dear soul, Phil. It is hard for me to put words on... so here it goes - ultreia & buen camino!

Sometimes when I stop to consider the chain of events following an eighth grade love for Spanish in Miss Rose's class leading to a houseboat on the Portland shore, I wonder what else in life is contingent upon This Moment. I think about how each decision, as minor as it seems at the time, unequivocally leads to the next.

One year ago today, I wrote a post on Courage to face the unknowns of the Camino the night before I left (7/7/13). Now I work for a documentary film about others who have undertaken such courage and embarked on the Camino, so that those who view the film may be encouraged to do the same. 

Pilgrimage, as a spiritual discipline, has uniquely changed my life in a way that constantly bids me to return. Not necessarily the physical return, but the daily reminders of life's gifts in simplicity -and the discovery of God and oneself in the process.

The power is out on the river tonight and the stars are brighter than ever. As I sit by candlelight listening to the rhythm of the waves, I wonder if life could be more perfect.

(// and subsequently this post was not published last night when it was written due to lack of wifi...)

Today, I am Here.

I have been challenged lately to consider the fragments of time here on the river that picked up the frail pieces of my finals-drained, city-consumed, winter-tired bones when I first arrived in May; this restored rhythm of life that has breathed so intuitively into the core of who I am and energized my passion for pilgrimage and my dreams for the future. To conquer the looming dread of Chicago traffic & humidity & tourists that inevitably resound as the city's heartbeat of summer is going to be a consciously intentioned effort in my last few days here. As much as I am in love with the ever-accessible city life, perhaps my days are numbered in the fast-paced grind of Chicago.

How many other places will I ever live where I can kayak off my front porch?!

Too often I live without bringing attention to what actually brings life to the deepest part of me. I know what people tell me, the world; promises to turn my eyes to this or that and receive the satisfaction from which I should draw life. I float through my days with my attention turned, and wonder why I come to a breaking point; burnt out from a month's reckless run and drained from the constant inner chatter telling me who I should be more or less of - what to fix and make better. But that's not how I want to live, listening to the cries of others who seize my grip from what I know to be Me, as silly or intrusive or perhaps even unruly as I sometimes am. To live with intentionality means knowing what makes you tick and allowing more of those moments to be ushered into the day-to-day and consciously not building walls against the unavoidable insecurities, vulnerabilities, unknowns, frustrations, and confusions.

Filling my weekends with adventures.
Punchbowl Falls :: Columbia Gorge, OR

Haystack Rock :: Cannon Beach, OR

Here, life is full because I have stepped back, re-examined, and taken note. My life, free from responsibilities to adhere to any established pattern of another's living has allowed a rhythm to develop that works for me - creating space between work and play - the morning hush and the evening stars renewing wonder as a foreign silence invites me to rest my worries. Here, space and stillness are the hallmark of my days, the go-to, the natural. I don't have to seek it out, it is already calling to me, wrapping itself around me in morning coffees, afternoon reads, and evening strolls. Is it any question why I will miss it?!

Night silence.

So what do I do when I return to the buzz of Chicago, the far-removed city from this refuge along the pines? How do I create a sense of stillness, a quietness for God to speak? How do I live in the ways that I know bring life to who I am in a city that beats its fists against apartment doors, demanding me to come out and face the fight?

A dear gift from my closest friends before I left.
The friends that indeed make my heart hurt for Chicago...

I have no answers. Today, I am here.