You and I are already pilgrims. It helps to keep that in mind as I prepare for this long, dusty, rocky, physically demanding, please please please not wet, sojourn, only 3 short months away. Seeing that last phrase in print feels odd to say the least. As teachers, the next three months for us seem like an eternity at times, certainly to the same extent as do those teenagers drooling at the thoughts of walking across all those stages in May/June to grasp the brass rings they've worked so diligently for all these years. Oh yes, just as much as them my friends, just as much. I digress, however, for today we talk pilgrims.
Yes, we are all pilgrims. We walk this earth for a period of time, adhering to particular beliefs, or not, and experience all that there is to experience while there is time (see my jelly bean analogy in the previous blog for a more detailed, cerebral explanation). This, in essence, is the definition of a pilgrim. Perhaps you may feel that we are plopped down here to get what we can ("those with the most toys win" philosophy) or to give what we can to make the world a better place (the kumbaya perspective), but regardless of how we feel about how we spend our time here, we can certainly all agree we are on a journey while time permits.
As such, we pilgrims need certain equipment. Oh, the countless hours, jelly beans spent if you will, on what gear to take on the Camino: how much will it all weigh, how many times will I use it, should I consider color coordination in my budget and calculations, will it be enough to get me there, and more pressing, will it be TOO MUCH??? Apparently all around the world, trails over ten miles are littered with paraphernalia pilgrims thought they couldn't do without, until the first hill, first cramp, first five minutes in 80+ F. degrees heat, first, second, and third blister.
Shoes are unarguably THE most important thing for the pilgrim on a hike. For me, I have what I think will be great hiking boots that my husband said I needed about ten years or more ago and that have been peacefully hanging out in my closet blissfully unbothered. They are large, one size bigger than I normally wear in a shoe, to allow for socks and swelling, and after that all day hike up the mountain and back a few weeks ago, my feet felt (relatively) fine. They seem to me to be broken in and ready to go, so I only wear them every once and again, in order to remind my feet that they will be calling them home pretty soon, "so prepare yourselves piggies!" Shoes were no big deal for this girl. On the other hand, I can't explain to you about my sweet dear one's convoluted shoe odyssey, for the journey is not complete. Yes, an Odyssey, each pair of shoes a siren that calls to him, beckons him, and then dashes his feet on the rocks. Let's stay with the allusion. At some point with each new pair of shoes, his feet become monstrously transformed, and although when they slip into the shoes/boots they look normal as feet go, inside the shoes these same feet apparently grow jagged thorns that poke out to the side, while the third toe on the right foot starts receiving brain signals that it is being denied blood flow and will fall off in less than one hour's time.
Yes, shoes are key. They are the foundation for all successful pilgrims, and as such, require a certain amount of thought. Let's carry the analogy to its logical next "step": if we're all pilgrims on this earth, and we all need protection from debris, pebbles, and all manner of foot trouble, we must think about what is going to allow us to step confidently through this life. For me, it's a foundation of peace coming from my relationship with a perfect Father. I don't like the word religion or religious, but rather relationship with Someone who made me, knows me, and loves me, warts and all. I challenge you as a fellow pilgrim to think about the shoes you have chosen for your journey. For the sake of your sanity though, stay off any Internet sites with free shipping. Buen Camino!
Yes, we are all pilgrims. We walk this earth for a period of time, adhering to particular beliefs, or not, and experience all that there is to experience while there is time (see my jelly bean analogy in the previous blog for a more detailed, cerebral explanation). This, in essence, is the definition of a pilgrim. Perhaps you may feel that we are plopped down here to get what we can ("those with the most toys win" philosophy) or to give what we can to make the world a better place (the kumbaya perspective), but regardless of how we feel about how we spend our time here, we can certainly all agree we are on a journey while time permits.
As such, we pilgrims need certain equipment. Oh, the countless hours, jelly beans spent if you will, on what gear to take on the Camino: how much will it all weigh, how many times will I use it, should I consider color coordination in my budget and calculations, will it be enough to get me there, and more pressing, will it be TOO MUCH??? Apparently all around the world, trails over ten miles are littered with paraphernalia pilgrims thought they couldn't do without, until the first hill, first cramp, first five minutes in 80+ F. degrees heat, first, second, and third blister.
Shoes are unarguably THE most important thing for the pilgrim on a hike. For me, I have what I think will be great hiking boots that my husband said I needed about ten years or more ago and that have been peacefully hanging out in my closet blissfully unbothered. They are large, one size bigger than I normally wear in a shoe, to allow for socks and swelling, and after that all day hike up the mountain and back a few weeks ago, my feet felt (relatively) fine. They seem to me to be broken in and ready to go, so I only wear them every once and again, in order to remind my feet that they will be calling them home pretty soon, "so prepare yourselves piggies!" Shoes were no big deal for this girl. On the other hand, I can't explain to you about my sweet dear one's convoluted shoe odyssey, for the journey is not complete. Yes, an Odyssey, each pair of shoes a siren that calls to him, beckons him, and then dashes his feet on the rocks. Let's stay with the allusion. At some point with each new pair of shoes, his feet become monstrously transformed, and although when they slip into the shoes/boots they look normal as feet go, inside the shoes these same feet apparently grow jagged thorns that poke out to the side, while the third toe on the right foot starts receiving brain signals that it is being denied blood flow and will fall off in less than one hour's time.
Yes, shoes are key. They are the foundation for all successful pilgrims, and as such, require a certain amount of thought. Let's carry the analogy to its logical next "step": if we're all pilgrims on this earth, and we all need protection from debris, pebbles, and all manner of foot trouble, we must think about what is going to allow us to step confidently through this life. For me, it's a foundation of peace coming from my relationship with a perfect Father. I don't like the word religion or religious, but rather relationship with Someone who made me, knows me, and loves me, warts and all. I challenge you as a fellow pilgrim to think about the shoes you have chosen for your journey. For the sake of your sanity though, stay off any Internet sites with free shipping. Buen Camino!