Daily Dose (November 4 – 7)
TUESDAY NOVEMBER 4 — This week, embracing times and places that heal and replenish.
Which means giving ourselves the permission to be immersed in self-care.
And no, that is not easy in a world where we see self-care as selfish.
But here’s the deal: Care of any kind—kindness, humanity, compassion, magnanimity—begins with self-care. We too easily don’t see or make the connection. We see shifts and threats to our life and our world, and then we set out, mentally and emotionally and behaviorally, to make changes, as if we need to find “the precise script”. Wondering, where should we be (instead of where we are)?
Forgetting that even when life is catawampus, our choices—to care and give and make a difference—spill from our healed and replenished self.
From that replenished place we can see, listen, relinquish assumptions, and choose to make the world—our small world that we touch—a safe, compassionate, inclusive, kindhearted, healing place.
Relative to replenishment self-care, I have always found this helpful. When the Shawnee and Chippewa (and other early people) went on hunts or vision quests or long journeys, each traveler would carry in a small rawhide pouch, various tokens of spiritual power—perhaps a feather, a bit of fur, a claw, a carved root, a pinch of tobacco, a pebble or a shell. These were not simply magical charms; they were reminders of the energies that sustain all of life. By gathering these talismans into a medicine pouch, the hunter, traveler, or visionary seeker was recollecting the sources of healing and bounty and beauty. (Adapted from Scott Russell Sanders, Hunting for Hope)
I do know that if my medicine pouch is filled with a need for control and answers (for closure), I can easily be seized with fear, panic, rage, despair, depression, exasperation and frustration. (You get the picture?)
But what if? What if the “tokens” in that pouch are not a magic wand to undo life, but instead, the power and the freedom to embrace the life we have been given. And to see in this life, this day, even in the very muddle of the ordinary, even in the very chaos of the ordinary gone awry, the permission to experience a whiff of the holy.
On Sunday, restorative time in the Church of Saint Jerome the Royal (in Spanish San Jerónimo el Real). With quite the history from the early 16th-century (including the investiture of Kings). There’s a part of me that doesn’t know how to compute the influential history of royalty and hierarchy, when it comes to church (Cathedrals) or life in general, but I do know this: sitting in a pew, listening to the choir rehearse—in acoustics created centuries ago—the craziness of the world in my mind and spirit hit the pause button. They were singing “Alleluia”, the acoustics hypnotic, and redemptive. With the affirmation that grace and redemption is alive and well for everyone. And here’s the deal: with grace, there is no pecking order.
And after, a good part of the day on Sunday in El Rastro de Madrid, one of the largest open street markets on the planet. What a treat. Even so, decisions to be made navigating one’s way in such a gigantic and dense crowd. A perfect place to eavesdrop. One wife saying to her husband, trailing behind her (and their child) single file, “Which way?” “Unfortunately,” he said, “Straight on.”
I wanted to say, “Amen, not a bad way to go.”
WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 5 — Today, I am writing this in Santiago de Compostela. When I wrote in Sabbath Moment about returning here, to revisit places from my Camino journey one year ago, one reader said to me, “But why are you starting at the end?”
And that made me smile, real big.
Yes, the Cathedral does indeed mark the culmination of a pilgrimage journey—following the reassuring yellow arrows along the way. And here—in the Cathedral—we get our Pilgrim’s Passport stamped one final time. On my first visit last year, I let myself sit for quite some time soaking in the wonderment, and the amazement.
And today I learned that when you revisit, the wonderment and amazement has not diminished one bit, continuing to welcome, and embrace you.
And again, I confess to being in awe of the worn-down flagstones, now “smoothed” by millions of pilgrims over the centuries—an ancient and sacred rite which has remained practically unaltered, for more than eleven centuries. Don’t get me started on the marvel of the stonework here.
So, where was I? Oh, back to the question about “starting at the end.” Here’s the deal: the Camino de Santiago is not just about reaching Santiago de Compostela. It is about the walk itself, the people met, the thoughts processed, the “stuff” we let go of, and the self, rediscovered. As countless pilgrims have said before, “The Camino doesn’t end in Santiago, it begins there.”
Ahhh yes, indeed.
And speaking of self remembered, on this journey (as I did last year), I carry with me this John O’Donohue poem.
“When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home…
When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.”
(from A Blessing for the Traveler by John O’Donohue)
Last year, eavesdropping on a couple of tourists (and yes, eavesdropping is one of my spiritual gifts). A couple walking, looking at the guidebook on their phone, him saying to her, “We should figure out how to do this tour in the right order. I don’t think we’re doing this right.”
Yes, another big smile.
And I can really relate. After all, what should we do first or second or third? And what if we’re going about this in the wrong order?
Give up control – one of the struggles and gifts of the Camino is letting go of expectations. The Camino is not a race, and pace does not matter. There is no defined “spiritual experience,” and in fact, “success” for the Camino seems to be showing up and putting one foot in front of the other.
Speaking of letting go of scripts, I love this from Jim Finley. “I wanted to go on a pilgrimage so I sat still for three days.”
“The Camino is wise; its lessons come slowly, mile by mile, day by day. It teaches you to surrender—to the journey, to the uncertainty, to the impermanence of it all. It’s about trusting the road to take you where you need to go, wherever that is. It’s about learning to leave behind what no longer serves you; that some people stay with you for a long time, others for only a moment.” (On the Camino de Santiago, Traversing Landscapes—and Moving Through Grief, Daniela Diaz)
THURSDAY NOVEMBER 6 –On a very dark and rainy day here in northern Spain, we celebrated noon Mass at the Cathedral de Santiago. It is the daily Mass for pilgrims.
I confess that my Spanish vocabulary is muy pequeño, just enough to capture glimpses and drifts of the homily (sermon). (I’m smiling because I’ve listened to many sermons in English where I didn’t understand much either. Just sayin’.)
Sitting in a Cathedral that is many centuries old, I do understand the invitation to pause. To pray. To confess. To embrace pardon and mercy. To savor grace. And to celebrate—“This is my body, broken for you.”
Oh yes… and one of the gathering highlights for pilgrims, the swinging of the “Botafumeiro”—the very famous thurible (a censer used to burn incense). It was created by the goldsmith José Losada in 1851. Eight red-robed tiraboleiros pull the ropes and bring it into a swinging motion almost to the roof of the transept, reaching speeds of 50 mph, and dispensing thick clouds of incense—representing prayers rising towards Heaven.
Before Mass, we spent a good bit of time in the Plaza del Obradoiro (Square of the Workshop), in front of the Cathedral. And even a cool rainy November day does not dampen the joy and heartfelt emotion, watching as pilgrims make their way into the Plaza.
I remember the emotion, when I too took those final steps one year ago.
And it hits me again, watching the pilgrims arrive, and embrace, and smile and laugh and cry—what matters is not your arrival.
What matters is not your pace.
What matters is not your spiritual temperament.
What matters is that you took a step.
What matter is that you chose.
What matters is that you began your journey.
In John’s Gospel, there is a wonderful story about a tough question and a fabled pool. This famous pool, near the Sheep’s Gate in Jerusalem, included five porticoes, where chronically sick and disabled of the city lived, waiting. You see, rumor (or legend) believed that an angel visits the pool, at random times, stirring up the water, which gives it healing properties. But there was a catch. Only the first person to step into the pool after the angel disturbs it, receives healing. Like a lottery.
So. Jesus passes by this outdoor nursing home and sees a man lying by the pool. This man has been sick for thirty-eight years. Jesus stops, and asks the man a question. No introductions. No small talk. No sermon. Just a question: “Do you want to be made well?”
Simple question. Maybe? But the answer is not so simple.
Jesus prefers these “tell-me-the-truth” questions. (“Do you love me?” “Why are you so afraid?” “Are you also going to leave?” “How long shall I put up with you?” “Do you still not understand?”)
“Do you want to be made well?”
“You’re kidding, right? Of course, I do.”
Except the man didn’t say that, and the story gets intriguing. The man begins to explain (well-rehearsed excuses to be certain) the mechanics of scarcity in this makeshift nursing facility; “I am all alone, and have no one to put me into the pool.” The world is very, very unfair; “While I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.”
He hems and haws, he dodges, he invites pity. And I get it. Because it all sounds familiar. (Of course, I’m old school, and I keep variations of these same reasons on a rolodex in my mind.)
Here’s the real question; where do you tether your well-being?
Jesus cuts to the chase. In his direct question and invitation, he is saying loudly and clearly to the man, “I see more than your sickness. I see more than your defeat, your resignation and your stagnation. Yes, your hope has dwindled, however I see your capacity to choose, grow, give, transform and spill light. Where you see scarcity, I see sufficiency.”
Amen. And onward my friends.
FRIDAY NOVEMBER 7 —
Prayer for our week…
A Camino prayer
May I walk this day
in the realm of grace,
walking with You
my feet firmly on your earth-path,
my heart loving all as kindred,
my words and deeds alive with justice.
May I walk as blessing,
meeting blessing at every turn
in every challenge, blessing,
in all opposition, blessing,
in harm’s way, blessing.
May I walk each step in this moment of grace,
alert to hear You
and awake enough to say
a simple Yes.
Robert Corin Morris
Photo… “Hi Terry, I know that the Lord will appear clothed in the sun’s rays. Actually, he does appear every day in many forms if we keep our eyes and hearts open. This is the sunrise in Saint Augustine, Florida, this weekend. We got the edges of Hurricane Melissa. Praying for Jamaica and the islands affected. As ever,” Amanda Marie (Atlanta, GA)… Thank you Amanda… Thank you for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
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