Lessons from El Camino de Santiago
August 8th, 2023
I love to walk. I’ve always loved to walk. When I was a child, I would wander off on my expeditions of intrigue without a care in the world - at least until I was taught to carry the weight of it by convention. Life has a way of doing that. I rediscovered my love of walking in 2017 when I chose to trek on foot through heat, cold, rain, sleet, and snow to my office about 5 miles away in downtown Louisville. Carol and I had gone to just one car, from two, in an effort to save money. Our priority was to make sure that the kids' private school tuition was paid. Things were tough at the office. We had grown from a really fun startup to a company in an operating phase with investors, customers, and employees. There was a lot of stress. There was stress at home too with finances, but I’d grown accustomed to that kind of stress so I was really just walking to clear my head before arrival at the office. What I thought was just self-therapy quickly began to feel very familiar. I was slow and methodical on foot, and began to see through the lens of a human being and not a machine, whizzing past everything and everyone. I experienced, again, a childlike curiosity on my walks. I was quiet. I was listening. I could hear my own breath through my scarf and each footstep crunch in the snow along my way. I was right where God wanted me to be - still, long enough to be heard. And then one day, church bells rang out directly above me. It wasn’t the first time. I had admired the bells that rang out from city centers during recent travels to Europe. Entering cathedrals and basilicas with such a long and varied history captivated me in contrast to the young history of my country. I wondered what might be behind the doors of this beautiful Catholic church in my own home town that I’d come to pass every day on my long walks in solitude and prayer. What I found there was a new, but oddly familiar path - as well as a very interesting Puerto Rican priest who would often see me walk past the church as he trained for his own long walk. I have to make the distinction as a man who married into a Puerto Rican family. His outgoing nature and unmistakable laughter might seem eccentric to those who don't understand the culture; my wife's culture; a beautiful culture. Father David Sánchez introduced me to something that I had no idea still existed - Christian pilgrimage. I would follow his journey on Instagram where he walked from Le Puy, France, all the way to Compostela, Spain on El Camino de Santiago. When he returned about 60 days later in 2018, he wanted to walk from the Louisville airport to his church as a final, fitting moment in his long journey of roughtly 1,300 kilometers. He invited parishioners to do so with him. He was certainly greeted at the airport, but only one parishioner dared to make the long walk back to the church in scorching summer heat and city traffic. Yes, I walked with him and listened to the stories still fresh in his mind about the people he met and the places he stayed along the way. I was taken by the idea of doing it myself as soon as I could.
Five years would pass, but I recently got to walk with Father David, his nephew (18yo), and my two sons, Gabriel (16yo) and Jude (15yo). We walked for about 280 km from Porto, Portugal to Compostela, Spain over the course of about 8 days. This is called the Portuguese Way of Saint James, and it is one of many routes on El Camino de Santiago. Carol, the kids, and I were already in Europe for the summer to accompany Carol as she finished her remarkable journey to become a Chef, receiving her diploma from Le Cordon Bleu in London, England. My girls were not really interested in bugs or sleeping and showering in mixed company so they left Lisbon on July 11th - back to the US. The boys and I left the same day on a train bound for Porto. We began walking along the western coast of Portugal immediately upon arrival. The journey was amazing, but a bit different than I had expected. People of different ages walk the Camino at different paces. At first, the experienced priest led the way at the speed-of-light, but it was not long before the three, inexperienced teenagers were in front of the middle-aged guys. Because of that group dynamic, I learned some new lessons and reinforced some older ones.
Life Is a Pilgrimage
Just like any trail that we walk here on Earth, this life has its beginning and it has its ending. You hope that by the end of it, you’ve accomplished something significant and grown - that it meant “something” to “someone.” Just like Camino, life’s path is varied. Sometimes it’s all uphill and other times it’s downhill, which is great until you trip and injure yourself. And, as in life, you find yourself sharing company with others along the way. Some are people with whom you begin the journey, but eventually have to say goodbye to - never to see again. Others you see more than once, though distance separates you for a time. Maybe some are ahead of you, just waiting for you to arrive. I had already come to think of life as a pilgrimage before my summer Camino, but my thinking was off… My idea of it was incomplete - inadequate. Before Camino, my idea of pilgrimage was too focused on “me” and “my” journey. That’s only part of it. Now, I might reframe it for someone like this:
Life is a pilgrimage in pursuit of a heightened state of physical and spiritual being that can only be achieved by choosing to advance in defiance of limitation and in spite of fear, to experience a supernatural power that is always offered to those willing to move forward, while taking each chance to encourage another soul along his or her own journey, through eternity, for the brief moment shared together.
There is a “power” available to us when we choose to overcome fear and put one-foot-in-front-of-the-other in defiance of a perceived limitation. You really could define “limitation” as any reason that you might choose “not” to advance. A limitation might be physical, financial, emotional, or so on. What I saw on Camino was a variety of people who had chosen to go, and then they “kept” going, but all at their own pace. Personally, was it hard to walk over 40 kilometers a day? Sure it was, and I could say with unmerited zeal that my feet really hurt, but I kept going. Where that might rise to some level of piety, doing so “once there” was less significant than having made the decision “to go in the first place.” In other words, the perceived limitation that might have kept me from committing to go in the first place was actually quite different than any concern for my physical condition and ability once there. To “commit” to something is the biggest and scariest choice you can make. It is the “leap of faith.” When you choose - often painfully - to keep moving forward from that decision point, you truly can experience a supernatural strength that sustains you. It does not, in my opinion, emanate from within, but rather is external and made available to us. You “tap into it.” We see and hear people talk about this across disciplines, philosophies, and religions. No matter your background or beliefs, you cannot experience it standing still. Something funny happens when you choose to go and continue to put your best foot forward… Eventually, you just “arrive;” thereafter, leaving forever changed, and having a story to tell. There is a purpose in that.
Something else that I learned on Camino was that I am too distracted. One day, I was stressed out because a bank transaction didn’t work the way that I had planned. I had forgotten to move some money, which meant that it was not available for another automated transaction, and when I tried to manually fix that on my iPhone, it just broke something else in the money flow and caused me even more grief. I had been working on it all day while walking feverishly ahead of my companions. I didn’t want them to see just how frustrated I was. That afternoon, we all ate at a restaurant in a small town and I excused myself just as soon as I could to step back out - into the rain - to continue to work the problem on my iPhone. Now, on Camino there is a very important little book that you get at your point of origin - the Santiago Passport. In it, you record all of your stops with stamps along the way. This is your proof that you actually walked the distance that you say you did when you finally arrive at Santiago in Compostela. You get a nice certificate that certifies your achievement. Oh, I wanted that passport with every stamp in it like a 5 year old wants candy. I wanted that certificate like a heavy-weight championship belt. I left my passport in the restaurant to be stamped by one of my traveling companions. I did not think about it until later that day. My son, Gabriel, was devastated when I asked the question: “So, who has my Santiago passport?” Yep. That's right. It was gone. The rest of that afternoon, I was miserable. I just kept imagining my precious Santiago Passport being kicked around under the restaurant tables in dust and crumbs of food - just as carelessly discarded. And, when Father David asked whose fault it was - not meaning for me to take the blame - I quickly answered, “It’s my fault!” I knew how distracted I had been. I knew that it was my responsibility to keep up with that damn booklet - not anyone else’s. It got me thinking about all of my distractions and how I need to limit them. As I traced my distractions back to their root causes, a theme emerged…
I love the United States of America. I do. But, we are a very distracted people, and a lot of it can be traced back to an insatiable appetite to consume products, services, concepts, and ideas that really don’t give us life. Overconsumption in western culture - and particularly in the United States - is very distracting, and we continue to export this more and more to the rest of the world. What I loved on Camino, and what I have always appreciated when traveling abroad, is that I find myself filled with more of what really matters and satisfies. I live a healthier lifestyle - physically, mentally, and emotionally - by consuming less. As I return to the US after a summer away, I am at my target weight and my outlook on life has never been better. While there, I just enjoyed simple, but delicious food, lovingly prepared in appropriate portions, walking to get my daily groceries, and talking with beautiful people living life more simply with their family and friends. I did not need anything more than the changing landscape and its people to feed my curiosity and spur me on to the next town.
While I was backpacking across Portugal and Spain, I recorded this little video, among others. Father David was somewhere behind me on the trail and the three teens were somewhere in front of me - all out of view. I watch this video curiously now that I’ve returned to the US. In it, I say the following:
As I’ve walked now from Portugal and now Spain, I am struck by just all of the differences - not just from one country to another, but from one region to another; one neighborhood to the next; one town to the next. You’re constantly finding yourself saying, “What is this? This is a little bit different. What does this say? Why is it written that way? What is this plant? What is that structure? Why do I only see that here? What do they use that for? Where did that come from? This one is 600 years old!” Always, spurred on to keep moving by something different… This planet has got so much diversity; culturally; geographically. And, it’s beautiful because it just spurs you on. It kind of speaks to, why does it feel different when you travel for intrigue versus just go to the beach for vacation? There’s something different. You get a bug. It spurs you on. “What’s this? What’s that new smell? What is this?” And, there’s something spiritual about this. I think it appeals to the eternal. Now, I could try to keep things “the same” and it just doesn’t work. It’s a miserable place to be. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. It’s not who we are. It’s not what we are. And, it really made me think about when I approach that final aperture, and I’m looking into the next world… “What’s this? What’s that? I want to go there…” Without fear. Just intrigue. It doesn’t frighten me (the thought of death). But only because it’s a continuation; I keep going. That’s who we are. We keep going. We keep moving forward. We keep learning. And there’s no end to that. Not even if we want to try and make it so. So keep moving. Keep growing. Keep going. Keep looking forward. Keep that awe. Keep that intrigue. Put that next foot forward. Keep asking, “What’s this?” and “What’s that?”Video Player is loading.
And that’s it. It might sound strange to hear a career entrepreneur and technologist say this, but here goes: Shed the weight of a world unsatisfied with its products, services, concepts, and ideas. Go. Push yourself. See what happens. Arrive. Go away changed. Have a story to tell.
It was an honor to walk with my sons. They’re both well into high school now. I don’t have much longer left before they fly the nest. I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to do something like this again with them so I am so thankful for what we experienced and learned together. What a feeling it was to arrive with them! They are such amazing young men. God, I love them so much. My son, Jude, is now forming a group at his high school to do El Camino de Santiago together. A gathering of teens might do a better job of keeping pace with one another. Lives will change. Pilgrimage still has its place. Taking the time for it is perhaps more important now, in this crazy Age, than at any time in the past.
Oh, and yes, I did get my Santiago Certificate despite the loss of my original Santiago Passport. Thank you, Father David.
Buen Camino.