It Wasn't About the Goal

I didn’t know why I was coming. I only knew I needed to. Having just left a job that at one point I'd thought had been a dream, something I once considered a calling, and something that I allowed way too much space in defining my definition of “me,” I was lost. Putting it mildly, I was broken, hurt, confused, eventually angry, and had no clue as to “what’s next.” My Protestant upbringing and modeling of work ethic mixed with perfectionism left no room for failure, and here, humiliated and confused, began my journey. My heart was fertile soil for growth, I just didn’t know it.

I retreated to a friend’s house for a place of solace and safety. She provided me a bed, wine, music, space for tears and room for silence. Another friend contacted me and told me about a trail in Spain, a 500-mile walk over a set of mountains and into a ancient journey defined by the Catholic Church as a pilgrimage. I knew nothing about it, this "Way of St. James," but I knew my heart and mind were being called to do the brave thing, to get uncomfortable, and to step-by-step learn about not only my "next," but about me.

"I can't believe you're traveling across the world and hiking alone," my partner's family members said to me. "Aren't you scared?"

"Yes," I answered in all honesty. "That is why I have to do it."

Ever the to-what-end goal-driven overachiever, from the outset I had one goal: Completion. Come hell, high water, train or taxi, I would have the photo in front of the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain. No matter what, I'd hold the Compostela, a certificate for pilgrims completing at least 100 km of the 700 km journey, which in my non-Catholic and slightly irreverent understanding I referred to as “Purgatory Points.”

(From my novice understanding, these "Purgatory Points" were a way of, upon death, getting out of Beginner's Hell before one advances to heaven. Since I wasn't sure if I believed in Purgatory, I intended to share my points with a friend, something you could do, I learned. But more on that later.)

I had a goal, a plan, and points to earn.

What I didn’t know is I was already living in Beginner’s Hell. Isolated, alone, hurt, lacking vision, rising late and without direction, feeling betrayed, I’d created a hell of my own. This way of St James was a chance for me to hike out of that Purgatory of my own making.

Trekking through the mask-laden airport during what we hoped in fall 2021 was the tail-end of a pandemic, I anticipated my journey. “It's all about the goal," I told myself. "And the people. But also the goal…and really the people,” was my internal dialog through the airport.

Thinking of lessons I would learn in the weeks ahead, my focus was the Purgatory Points and outcome. What I learned over the next two step-filled weeks, was that the Camino, like life, is not all about the goal. The photo at the end and the certificate became inconsequential, I found. Instead, I learned, it is about the journey.

Come along with me on the journey. Through airports, bus rides, mountains, vineyards, shared sleeping spaces, mountain streams, going hungry, feasting, dancing, pondering, praying... Purgatory and my own heart.