Camino Reflection Part II: Time

On my Camino and since re-entry to non-Camino life, time has become a slippery thing. Its rate of passage changes constantly, and I keep thinking about how it twists and shifts.

A story to start:

The morning that Marise and I crossed over the Alto Perdon from Pamplona and navigated the unstable shale-strewn descent on the other side, we stopped in the shade to rest and take care of some, er... business. There was a concrete pump cover in the shade, on which sat a Swedish gentleman who was watching his online church service. We joined him.

I may have written about this before, but not in relation to time. Our Swedish companion wore a beaded bracelet on his left wrist, and Marise asked him about it. He explained that on his first Camino (he was on his third), he began by wearing a watch, but felt burdened in measuring time in relation to pace, mileage and other externals. They were intruding into his spiritual journey. So he took off his watch and put it away, settling into the rhythm of the Camino. Since then, he hasn't worn a watch; he now wears the bracelet, with white, red, blue and gold beads representing faith, trust, work and love. (I may not have all those right.) Now he is guided by the values of his bracelet instead of time.

Instinctively, I looked at my left wrist and realized that my watch was missing. I had lost it since leaving the summit of Alto Perdon. There was no question about going back to look for it. It was gone. I was more bemused than alarmed, considering the conversation we were having at that moment. All I could do was shrug - I had planned to take it off (had originally planned not to bring it all), and now I no longer had to make that decision. After that day, I relaxed into each day more, paid more attention to my senses than to time and external measurements of "progress." An important Camino lesson, expensively learned but worth it.

Time

Cliche alert. Camino time is like a river. When you are sleeping, eating and walking in the company of other pilgrims, you are in the main current. The rhythm: Wake early, pack in the dark, start walking in the dark, watch the dawn, find coffee, walk walk walk walk, arrive, rest, shower eat and sleep. And again. The current carries you along like a leaf on the water. You are part of the flow. It's easy and natural.

The moment that you step out that flow, time shifts. A rest day, entering the pace of a large city, staying in a pension or hotel instead of an albergue, these changes take you out of the flow just a little bit, putting you into an eddy that is adjacent to the current, but not part of it. You're an observer, out of the flow until you slip back in. When I was in those eddies, I missed being in the flow.

My trip to England took me out of the stream altogether, initially into a state of suspended animation. I wasn't on the Camino, but I was - I was waiting to re-enter the stream in a week or so. When I realized that I was unlikely to re-enter as planned, the grief of losing that connection to Camino time and community was hard to confront at first. Had it not been for Emma and all she gave me, I could have slipped into despair and the self-loathing that threatened by not finishing what I had started.

And then the Camino opened to me again, in England. I began to walk, alone, without a watch, this time alongside the current of an actual river. It was a different kind of time, but it was familiar and comforting. Without the constant measurement of time, I was more open to what I saw, smelled, heard, felt and thought. Thinking and processing to the rhythm of my boots. Back in the stream.

Re-entry and Time

Returning home from the Camino, even with the buffer period in Madrid, brings some culture shock. The change in pace, the stimuli, all the STUFF that we have in our lives.... it's all a bit much. Time speeds up again as lists and tasks and management of the everyday take over. Many pilgrims find themselves awash in tears with no single explanation of why. It's normal, and hard. But utterly worth the discomfort as the lessons of the Camino work their way into our lives.

Because I'm going back on the road this coming week, starting my new career, I bought a new watch. I have barely looked at it, but will soon be depending on it in the highly time-sensitive travel business.

Will I miss the rhythm of Camino time? Yes. But I hope that the new patterns of thought and awareness are internalized now, and that I can carry them with me. I'm still on my Camino, and will be forever.

The pull to return to walk the physical Camino is strong; many pilgrims return to it as often as they can, either to explore alternate routes or to retrace the steps they took before to learn new lessons. Many walk the major Camino routes like the Frances in sections for two or so weeks a year. Those who get injured tend to come back and finish. For most, it's not a hike that one can check off a list. It's a way of being, and Camino time has a lot to do with the attraction. And the company of Camigos and Camigas, who will get their own reflection here in the fullness of time.

I know that I will return to finish both Camino routes. The Ingles from A Caruna to Santiago I can do in a week or so. The Frances, depending on my ankle, I'll complete as well, maybe in sections, or maybe just at a slower rate. Slowing down would be hard - because I love to walk. But walking is only part of the Camino.

Its tug is deep, best experienced rather than explained.