Buen Camino!

Keep walking!  Buen Camino.
Keep walking! Buen Camino.

I was going out the door this morning to walk and my Rebecca said, “Buen Camino!” to me. And as I walked I was thinking about that and how my perception of that phrase as changed and grown. I remember the first few days of the walk in Spain and we said that to each other. But we said it, or at least I said it, with no inkling of what it meant or what it was going to mean.

It felt good to say it because finally after so much preparation I was finally on the trail and actuallay doing it, finally I a real pilgrim. And all the people around me were real pilgrims. Like we are so cool. “Buen Camino!” “Buen Camino Dude!”

Then at some point in the first week after everyone had equal opportunity to develop their own unique pilgrim walk and the reality of the situation really got to dwell in us we could say it again with a certain defiance. “Yea, Buen Camino!” “Buen, we are still frickin here, Camino!” The Camino was still there and we also were still there and that was the way we were going to keep it. We were staying.

Then at Santiago it was all good and the “Buen Camino” meant something like a congratulations. Yes, my stigmata and I arrived unscathed. Thank you St. James. “Buen Camino, yes!” Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could have left it at that.

But then what? The darn grim reentry, which is real and undeniable, is what’s next. Just when you thought the world was all roses and tapas it’s reentrytime. Just when life is beautifully painfully sweet, it’s what to do with realitytime, whatever that is? The celebratory high five “Buen Camino” becomes softer and softer till it’s almost crowded out by facts and figures and details. It becomes just a wee little flame like a tattered snapshot.

And for months, collectively, we have been guarding that little flame and keeping it safe and coaxing it along. Haven’t we? Trying to integrate it with our life or trying to integrate our life with it is always going on it seems. That darn little flame is truly such a bother. But then this morning when my Rebecca said a simple clear alperfect, “Buen Camino!” as I had my winter clothes on and my walking sticks in hand, on my way out the door to walk my Camino, it all seemed so nicely integrated. The before, the during, the after and the now seemed one for the first time. Ah! Can I keep it? I can do this.

We can do this, immense loves, Felipe.