The title of today’s post comes from the inside of my shoes–it’s part of the statement on the insoles. I bought these just over a year ago as I started purchasing my gear for my pilgrimage on El Camino. They weren’t the first purchase I made, but they were an important one. On all the online forums about Camino prep, the bulk of the conversation is about shoes– what kind, the fit, the brand, how many … Everyone has their opinion, but the bottom line is always: get the shoes that are right for you and make sure you break them in before you hit The Way.  

Even though I now wear the shoes doing yard work, most of the stains, scuffs, and wear and tear in the second photo is from the pilgrimage. They’re comfortable and I love wearing them.  They’re a reminder of where I’ve been. Unlike the few mementos I brought home, my shoes carry the real dirt and work of my pilgrimage.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I started prepping for that trip, and almost a year since Hubby and I left. Every step makes an impact fit as a reminder while I prepared–take care of your feet, get in shape, be frugal and thoughtful of what you pack. I spent hours and walked miles to break in these Keens. I’m typically a fast walker but slowed my pace to practice for the pace over there. I told myself and others this wasn’t a cardio walk; it was a Camino walk. I wasn’t doing this for speed, I was doing this for endurance and strength training. I still didn’t practice slowly enough!

During the 6 weeks we walked, every step makes an impact became a mantra, especially those days when I thought I couldn’t take another. Just put one foot in front of the other. Each step got me closer to our stopping place for the day when the thought of even another mile or two seemed too distant.

But the real impact wasn’t on foot, it was in the eyes and heart. It was a reminder to keep my eyes open and soak it all in; not to look at just the big picture of scenery and majestic cathedrals, but to look at the details–‘the steps’–in the flowers, the carvings on doors, the intricacy of stained-glass windows, the rustic holiness in abandoned churches.

Not to notice just the groups of fellow pilgrims, but to look at each pilgrim. To take steps to connect, whether a simple Buen Camino! with real eye contact or the word-by-word bridge built overcoming a language barrier.

The statement fits even more as I continue to reflect on the pilgrimage a year later. On one level walking the Camino in daily life is easy. The diversity of cultures, faiths, and ethnicities, and the kindness, support, and joy of the other pilgrims during the pilgrimage reinforced the best and beauty of humanity. I carry hope in these times that aren’t very hopeful. It strengthens me to give voice when those things are being suppressed or attacked. Every step makes an impact–no matter how big or small.

On another level the daily walk can be challenging. On The Way there’s a lovely disconnect from the outside world. It’s freeing to simply enjoy the scenery and be lost in one’s own thoughts–to be fully present in the moment. Of course, you also have to be present in the moment because you can miss a sign or wrench an ankle if you don’t.

But like most of us, I can’t realistically live in that place all the time, so there’s tension between what my heart needs and what I must do. I used to say, ‘I need a sanity day!!’ when my calendar was booked from morning ‘til night, or my ‘to do’ list was impractically long. Now I say, ‘I need a Camino day.’ and for some reason that distinction sounds more sacred, and from the Camino experience I’m reminded how important that disconnect is. And the experience keeps me from filling in the calendar squares too fully or extending the list in the first place. I’m still learning the lessons.

Valentine’s Day was this past weekend. A year ago, I made photo charm braids for Hubby and me with pictures of our kids, and a medal of St. James, patron of pilgrims, to take with us. I clipped mine inside my crossbody bag where I kept my passport, credit cards, phone, etc. that was always with me and close to my heart. And so was my family. Now it’s clipped inside my purse.

In the months leading up to our commitment to go, it seemed the universe dropped Camino hints everywhere I looked: random articles in newspapers and magazines, strangers (former pilgrims) I’d meet in stores and workshops, artwork. The nudges came from all directions and fed the yearning I’d experienced for years. Recently, those nudges began reappearing. I’m still on some Camino sites and with every photo posted my heart aches to return. Maybe last year wasn’t a one and done after all.

When Hubby and I returned home last June, I was so overwhelmed by the experience I could barely talk about it. Catching up and writing anything other than simple diary entries was impossible. That has started to change. The bigness of the pilgrimage has settled. While I took plenty of photos of the big pictures–scenery vistas and cathedral edifices – I’m grateful for all the smaller details I captured. That’s where I’ll find my poetry and essays, which are finally trickling in.

I hope you have a great week this final week of February love. I’ll be back on Monday with Book Review Monday!