A Face Book friend Janet from Indianapolis posted a story about a time in Spain when synchronicity struck big time. One shakes one’s head when hearing of something from someone else and it seems wonderful and intriguing. But when it actually happens to you it seems supernatural, sort of a step above. I think that the difference is that when it gets personal it is real in a lot of dimensions and records itself in more than one of our senses. Not that one one story is better than another or mine is better than yours.

Janet was lost in a Spanish city as she looks for the home of a friend. She ducked into an Internet cafe to just find a seat and get her bearings. What to do?! And at that moment the friend walks in like that is all the normal way you do things. I can so relate to this because I have a lot of dreams like this where I am lost or late and someone bails me out to my surprise and delight.

My story also happens in Spain. I arrived in Santiago with my friend Rick and his daughter Maryka in the morning. We got our diplomas at the pilgrim office. They were impressed that I had a official letter in Spanish from my home parish in the US saying that I was on official pilgrimage. I was so kosher! We went to the cathedral, went to Mass and I visited St James twice in the crypt. That was extremely moving.

But due to my abbreviated schedule I had these few hours and was flying out early the following morning from Santiago to Madrid to make my connection to NYC. That last evening we probably as a group celebrated. But the most important thing that happened was that I met this other American pilgrim who was also flying out the next morning back to the US. We had a good conversation and thought that that was the end of it. But wait!

The next morning I taxied off to the Santiago airport alone, a fragile pilgrim about to be thrown back into the rough and tumble of the world. My short flight to Madrid went well. But I totally lost my way in the endless Spainishness of the International Airport. Nothing was making sense and I couldn’t find anyone to talk English to help me. Time kept getting shorter and shorter and I could feel the panic coming on. I was terrifically alone in a crowd. I have nightmares like this. Then all of a sudden after rushing, schlepping and sweating I spy this pilgrim that I had met the night before. I ran to him to be saved. He so casually said to me in my native tongue, “Do you see that door?”. ”Walk through it.” I am looking at the door and it is a small white door in a big white wall. Absolutely no signage. I do as told as in the Camino provides and viola there magically is my gate. My absolutely correct gate, it is waiting for me! Are you kidding?!? Camino magic in a rush had hit me. I was going to make my connection! Glorious synchronization!

So, Janet I totally realize the magic of your story! This stuff is so amazing that it really defies explanation. And it all happens so casually like, “What did you think would happen?”

here we go loves, Felipé.

SHAPING A BEAUTIFUL MIND

Phil wanted us, BCs, to share news from our side of the world, but I was thinking that these days, the world is like never before, one world. And what happens in this one world is painful. And while it hurts in different ways in different places, if there is one thing that is common, is that these days are painful.

It is difficult to be at home alone. For others, it is difficult to be at home with others. For some, it is stressful to be at home working for 10 hours. For others, it is stressful to be at home having been subjects of a furlough.

No matter on which situation we are, it hurts.

And to find solace, I have been back to the trusty lines in my trusty books of my trusty writers. Lines about these arts of “always have something beautiful in your mind”, or “asking beautiful questions in unbeautiful moments” have been a life-vest.

John O’Donohue often quoted a phrase from Blas Pascal, that “you should always keep something beautiful in your mind”, so you could look at it when in times of difficulty. And he used to say that shaping a beautiful mind is an actual discipline, and one of the ways he said you could shape a more beautiful mind is by asking beautiful questions. And he would clarify that a beautiful question starts to shape our identity as much by asking it as it does by having it answered.

This life in lockdown has the gift of time, that otherwise is too often too short to invest in this endeavor of finding beautiful questions to ask ourselves.

And these days I have been deeply listened by many friends, work colleagues -some who are friends too and some others that I had only met in the kitchen at the office-, my therapist and even my boss. And these days I have given my best to deeply listen to my friends, work colleagues -some who are friends too and some others that I had only met in the kitchen at the office-, my therapist, and (even) my boss!

And these days I have seen so many pictures of doctors and nurses who in addition to providing medical care to COVID-19 patients while in isolation at the hospital, they are also providing them with company, courage, strength, love, being the only ones who are there for them bedside.

And the question that came up to me has been “What would it be like to imagine that I could be trustable by a fellow human being who is suffering?”

Maybe, for us pilgrims, this may not be a new question; instead of in a bed-side situation, we surely were path-side, but when wondering which could be our voice as pilgrims in this pandemic, I think it might be around that question… which I think is beautiful in any context.

Side-wise Love,
Cris

Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour; . . .
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages . . .

Yes! The trail is open! Like Chaucer, let us walk, and tell our tall tales yet again.
Excelsior! Ever onward!

That’s what Henriette put in the Comments yesterday, yea! This is what we are talking about! On the move again with fresh perspectives after our long hibernation. On the move again in a robust way, not tentatively but whole heartedly. Searching for the grace to smooth out our beginning stumblely steps. It might not be the prettiest thing around but it’s ours and we are immensely happy with it.

“Left a good job in the city…”, is the opening line of Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival. We somehow need to get beyond those two dimensional rewards of that “good job in the city”. We long for a chance to taste something authentic, something we can hang our hat on. There is that something about that song that has always attracted me. Like me as a kid seeing those huge V’s of Canada geese flying high high about our two dimensional suburban neighborhood and me asking how do they get to do that? Like the saying, “running away with the circus” I am attracted. Like when first getting an idea of what pilgrimage might be like as in “Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages…”.

Yup, here we are, Springtime 2020! It is one of those very unique times. We will always remember the feel of it. Yes, we need to grieve our losses but one of these days we will have to start making meaning. What will come out of that?

Walking in a minute. It is a beautiful morn, not a cloud, it has already “pierced (me) to the rote”.

come by when you get a chance loves, Felipé.

Phil’s Camino open again! Beautiful Spring weather and beautiful pilgrims arriving. What could be better! Catherine and Dana local regulars and Patti a buddy from Swedish Cancer Institute we’re here. It was not a problem to keep distancing in bounds.

So, we will continue. Thursday morning at 9 is our next walk and on to our regular schedule. The major difference is that tapas have to wait til later. But it is fun to just have something going.

And corn is also on my mind. Tilling went well and is sufficient. Have to do some leveling and then can stake out the rows. Then will soon wet the seed to start the sprouting process before it goes in the ground. It’s getting exciting! In my reading yesterday I was reading about a farm family’s coaxing a crop out of the soil. Coaxing is a good word for it.

Must go. We are all doing reasonably well in these difficult times. Keep going!

we can do this loves, Felipé.

Every morning I duck outside to throw out yesterday’s coffee grounds. Coffee such a ritual that happens every single morning no matter. But this morning one particular birdie was just blazing away with his song. He or she had a sound big enough to blast through my best pre coffee haze. And what was the occasion?

too sleepy loves, Felipé.

Tomorrow is our Grand Opening! It has been a long month and a half since shutting down. But most of that was the completion of our walk back from Muxia to Santiago. Now we start out from Assisi.

Rho is all excited about our choice on this walk. I will have to get together with her on more details. I did purchase the book The St Francis Camino from a friend of hers Bret Thoman OFS. And Our Catherine did do a bunch of research for me which I am studying last minute here.

So our first stage is 19.3 km from Assisi to Foligno. This route takes us through olive groves and the Monte Subasio Park. We will go through the town of Spello.

There are thirteen stages total to get to Rome or Roma. They vary from 15 to 20 km. This total trip in going to take us something like 22 weeks at our pace. That’s sometime in say September.

OK, that’s what it looks like from here in late Spring. Walking in a minute.

that’s our summer loves, Felipé.

So, it looks like we have a go for opening Phil’s Camino on Tuesday afternoon. No guarantee on what will happen with the weather which has been extremely touch and go as of late. Of course we will be practicing all our physical distancing skills that we have been honing, no touch and go there.

And I am sorry that we can’t do any tapas as of yet. Maybe as the weather gets more stable we can start talking about that. But for now it is just a walk and talk.

The trail is in good shape. The winter puddles are gone. There are blossoms galore of many types. May is one of my favorite months, so fresh and new.

So here is a review of our schedule:

Monday 0900-1000
Tuesday 1600-1700
Thursday 0900-1000
Sunday 1600-1700

welcome back loves, Felipé.

Not a great beach day. It looks like a good day to be in the shop. Have a door project going for Wiley’s place. In most ways this virus hasn’t slowed me down much. Life on the ranch is just all pretty local. Just need some diesel fuel and beer once in a while.

I see in America magazine where the Grand Master of the Order of Malta recently passed away. One of my major claims to fame is that I glimpsed him for a few seconds in Lourdes while I was on pilgrimage in 2018. I see where he was much loved by Papa Francis. May the good man rest in peace.

I know Pilgrim Farmer John is planting his corn crop now in Eastern Iowa. Life on the farm there goes on despite dicey markets. We here are scheduled to plant May 11. This current rain isn’t helping with warming of our soil. So maybe I will hold off a week. Don’t know.

My Rebecca is moving on with her healing. I am getting pretty good with my redressing duties I might add. So, we are looking for a good conclusion there. Healing takes time, no way around it.

Well, kind of a little bit of this and a little bit of that kind of day. That’s it, just have to go with. Not everyday has to have a parade or a flyover. Could go for a baseball or football game once in a while though. Oh well.

Healing takes time loves, Felipé.

La Città Mistica

In the green heart of Italy within the province of Umbria, La Città Mistica-The Mystical City stands tall, majestically perched upon the western flank of Mount Subasio. Assisi, a small medieval town surrounded by ancient stone walls and 8 gates, both which protected the town’s inhabitants many years ago. Looking up from the Spoleto valley below, the town appears bookend between St. Clare’s Basilica made of horizontal bands of white and pink stone standing towards the east, and St. Francis Basilica a whitish, bi-level basilica looming towards the lower west end.

Inside these reinforced walls, cobblestone roads, which carry the echoes of footsteps both past and present, wind their way through the maze of merchant’s shops, street side cafes, and open spaced piazzas. It is in the main piazza, the Piazza del Comune, where you can find the people gathering. Serenading with the sounds of falling water, the Fontana dei Tre Leoni (fountain of the three lions) circular in shape is near the east end. It is here in the mornings, as the sun peeks over the top of Mount Subasio, the townsfolk share their plans for the day while the aroma of cappuccino wafts up from their warm cups. In the evening they pass through here slowly, perhaps on their way to cena (dinner) or to take a seat upon one of the benches lining the piazza which are shadowed by the walls multi story buildings on both sides. If you were to take your place there upon the wooden seats or on the ancient stone steps of the Temple of Minerva, it would not be uncommon to see a robed Franciscan Priest or women adorned in the simple habit of the Poor Clare’s briskly walk by.

As a traveler I do not know which called out to me first, the spirit of St. Francis or the essence of Assisi. Perhaps the two cannot be separated. It was in 2005 when I first introduced myself to the hometown of Sts Francis and Clare. It was a proper introduction with polite curiosity. Upon my arrival, and while partaking of some fresh roasted chestnuts near the Fontana dei Tre Leoni, the day seemed innocent enough. Yet at times now I have wondered if it was then when the gentle flame first sparked. If so, I did not know. It was not until a return visit in 2011 while I was resting among one of the tower ruins of the Rocca Maggiore, an abandoned fortress which stands guard over the city high upon the hilltop, that an Assisi breeze whispered an invitation. My soul responded and my pilgrim’s heart was opened. Since then I have had the privilege of participating in two pilgrimages centered on the lives of St. Francis and St. Clare in and around the mystical city. One in 2015 and the other in 2018.

On Monday of this week, Phil shared with us that on May 5 he will shift the virtual location of his pilgrimage route on Vashon from Spain to Italy. My heart leapt at this news learning he will begin in Assisi, my beloved medieval, Umbrian town. Assisi, also known as the City of Peace, is a worthy place to begin or end a pilgrimage, especially with one we are all so fond of on Vashon Island.

Buon Camino,
Rho Densmore
CSWBC

I am back being my cheerful self after my heavy duty morning yesterday but there really seems no way to avoid processing current events. Well, ultimately it is healthy and needed but it takes an effort to get a grip on what is going on. But our own individual usually, thought of as solitary, lives are were the important battles (challenges) are. Those charts and graphs that we see are a reflection of our cumulative effort. We all have a part.

Dana yesterday expressed in an email how she thought that it would be more useful to have better language to deal with our current war (pandemic). I am grappling with that. I in my own world, with cancer ever present, see the shortfalls of the war language that is usually applied by predominantly outsiders. In a way it is accurate because it is one way to think about or look at the problem. It signifies a way. In my own case it seemed limited and not that useful.

Yesterday I heard one of the doctors say that the opposite of lockdown was not opening up but it is public health. He was referring to having an opening guided by a good testing program. Public health in this case being testing. OK, right.

Well, a beautiful morning here on the last day of the month of March. Walking for me, Felipé, from 0900-1000. Sayin lots of rosaries on my rounds on these solitary walks. Praying specifically for Catalina’s mother Bernadette and Farmer John’s mother Kay, both in their nineties. Then later I have a Zoom with Catalina. She is working on a book about Caminoheads blog, yay us!

yay us loves, Felipé.