Some Random Thoughts...

What I Know for Sure…

I am going to walk the Camino – about 500 miles across northern Spain. I am going alone. I will carry all my things on my own back. I have allowed 40 days. Each day, I will move (forward). Each day, I will see the world around me and give conscious thanks for the abundance and beauty around me and for the gifts that so frequently go unnoticed in the work-a-day world. I will spiritualize my thinking. I will be letting go of mortal illusions that blind me to the Truth.

What I Wonder…

When I return from my pilgrimage, what will others have done with their 40 days? While I am moving forward, making conscious steps, what will friends, family, associates do with their precious 40 days?

Are people trapped by routine or is it fear, is it complacency, inertia?

And who will I be? Will I have changed? Will I really have moved forward?

Good Friday Pilgrimage to Chimayo...

Each year on Good Friday about 30,000 people make the pilgrimage to Chimayo, a small historic mountain village about an hour north of Santa Fe, NM. They come for a variety of reasons and they make their trip on foot. These pilgrims converge on a tiny church in the village and pay their respects, ask for healing or give thanks. Many come away with small bags or bottle filled with holy dirt they collect from a sacred spot within the church. The area is littered with abandoned braces, canes, walkers, orthopedic shoes. There are bouquets of flowers left as offerings and icons of saints, crosses made of every imaginable material.

I did not walk to Chimayo. Instead, a friend and I set up a table and distributed water to the pilgrims as they passed by us on their long walk to Chimayo. Many walked over 100 miles, others started closer to Chimayo and logged only 10 or 20 miles. There were old people and there were babies and small children, people on horseback and others walking with the aid of companions supporting them. A wandering troubadour stopped and serenaded us for a while. Many began their walk at midnight and trekked through the dark night to arrive at dawn. Others walked through the heat of the day. Some were pious, some filled with laughter.

It is gratifying to see these pilgrims. As they pass or stop to sip water, they thank us for being there. But I find myself thanking them, for showing me their faith, for living their faith.

Soon, I will be walking my own pilgrimage, a different pilgrimage - the 500 mile walk to Santiago de Compostella. But on this Good Friday, I was happy to simply be a spectator. I was happy to simply offer a cool drink to those who were on a mission.

Life is good...

When Your Courage Kindles...Delight!

Here is my gift to you, gentle-reader, potential-pilgrim: someone else’s poetry.

I discovered this delightful piece as I surfed through the mass of amazing offerings the magical-Internet spills into my life each day. (Visit the New Dimensions website – worth lingering over…Google it!).

The advice that accompanied the poem recommended reading it aloud, savoring each phrase. It is a fine practice, reading aloud.

This is a pilgrim poem. Of course I do not think John O'Donohue had the camino to Santiago de Compostela in mind when he wrote these words. But his words describe many of my own feelings as the idea of attempting the pilgrimage came alive in my heart. Are you “…unable to leave what you had outgrown…”? How many of us are trapped by the “…seduction of safety..” ? And what about the “… delight, when your courage kindled…” and you moved forward with the dream to walk the pathway with “…eyes young again with energy and dream, a path of plenitude opening before …” you?

I particularly like the phrase (and philosophy): “…learn to find ease in risk…”

But read on for yourself, read with open heart and pilgrim eyes.

_________________________________________

FOR A NEW BEGINNING

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

From Benedictus: A Book of Blessings
By John O'Donohue (Bantam Press 2007)

Pilgrims Travel Light...

Packing, packing, packing….it seems that if I am not packing, I am unpacking. In retrospect, the spaces between packing and unpacking and packing again are very brief.

Since I married my high school sweetheart back in 1971 (see photo, circa 1971), we have been (happily) on the move. We have alternately followed orders and followed our hearts. Years with the US Air Force (his 7 year tenure and then my 22 year career, when he played Mr. Mom and I was the Sergeant) took us so many places here and abroad. And there was our Peace Corps adventure in Ukraine. The move behind our current situation, working and house-sitting in sunny Santa Fe, is the result of accepting AmeriCorps and AmeriCorps*VISTA positions.

All in all, there are about 30 changes of residence over the past 35 years. (That explains why I frequently am at a loss when people ask for my phone number or home address!)

I laugh a bit whenever my sweet spouse talks of putting down roots somewhere. It sounds lovely, but I am not sure it will happen by choice. I think it may end up being a default situation where we simply stop…like the old pioneers who just stopped somewhere on their way west, crossing the vast, beautiful Great Plains of the USA.

Soon we will be packing again. Moving on to new jobs and new digs. Too soon to say when or where, but soon, no doubt.

In between our household moves there are travels which require planning, packing and loading. What is more fun than a road trip? We have been known to drive 500 miles (each way) over a weekend to ease cabin-fever in the great white north or to attend a party with old friends or to attend a Renaissance Faire or the Macy's Day or Rose Bowl Parades. Sometimes the family calls and sometimes the need for familiar faces pushes us into the car. And there is camping; escaping the phone, television, household chores for time outdoors relaxing in a hammock. And hiking up and down mountains in Malawi or exploring in Morocco.

And there is business travel too. One year in Spain, I travelled for the USAF almost 250 days to about ten different sites in several different countries. I came home weekend to wash my clothes and flew out again the next day. During one of those trips, our lease expired so my husband and son packed up our possessions and moved us to a new nest in a different town. When I came home to a place I’d never been before I felt a little like a visitor rather than the lady of the house!

My frequent moves have taught me to have confidence in this big old world and the people in it. No matter where we are, we find what we need. We find new friend and continue to cherish the old ones. We learn more about ourselves and our interests. We take risks and are rewarded with answers and successes. (There are occasional bruises, but they are good for the ego and keep people humble too…and taking the risk keeps us from wondering “what if?” and the feeling of bitterness that often comes when dreams are not put to the test.)

All this moving is kind of a dance of gratitude, a demonstration of faith, an awareness of abundance, a willingness to follow. It involves the courage to let go…to let go of things and ideas. It is an opportunity to trust as a little child.

I feel awareness, I see with new eyes…I assess what it is I value. All the beautiful lessons of life spill out like diamonds and rubies.

What has all this to do with my upcoming Camino? Not much really.

But as my departure date draws closer, the adrenaline begins to surface. I spend my time packing and unpacking. It feels good.

My tiny backpack (31 liters/22 ounces empty) will be home for the 40 days I plan to spend walking across northern Spain.

A pilgrim, by nature travels light.

And they carry all their riches, all that is important, in their hearts, not in their packs.

Life is good…

Waiting for the Irresistible...

My decision to walk the Camino came as a quiet, urgent desire. It was like a small seed, planted deep in the earth, pushing upward toward the light and warmth.

The poor little plant was almost trampled under the plans and agendas of the busy world around me!

In a world that generally honors logic and checklists, goal-setting and efficiency, promotions and paychecks, we often fail to recognize our own needs and desires. We rush around designing, planning, consulting, outlining, budgeting...controlling. We fail to take time to dream or to feel.

In the past few years I have been consciously cultivating the capacity to listen to my heart and my feelings. (Events in my life have conspired to lead me back to this way of living more simply and making better choices.)

In the past few years I have nurtured dreams and waited for them to unfold like the blossoms on a rose. The seed has grown, the foilage is lush and green, the buds are ready to burst into flower.

So I am walking the Camino this April. And what's next? I do not know, but we shall see ...meanwhile, I am expectantly (and gratefully) waiting and anticipating…no checklists or outline, just openess and wonder.

Yesterday I read a wonderful post from the Great Work Blog. (michael@boxofcrayons.biz ) See the excerpt below and you will understand what I mean when I quote Cate Blabchett, “I’ll just wait for the next irresistible thing.”

I hope you do too!

_________EXCERPT FOLLOWS_________
“I’ll just wait for the next irresistible thing”Posted: 12 Jan 2009 03:28 AM CST

Cate Blanchett: possibly the best actor in the world at the moment, a stunning talent and beautiful too … and being Australian is just the cherry on the cake.

She’s the cover story of this month’s Vanity Fair, and manages to come across as wise.

When asked “what’s next?” her answer is a beauty:

“I’ll just wait for the next irresistible thing.”

In that simple answer lies wisdom that allows Great Work to flourish:
* Trust that the next great thing will show up
* A willingness to wait for it
* An ability to keep awareness and space open so, when it does show up, there’s the capacity to receive it

What does “irresistible” look like to you in the work that you do?

And how are you holding the space open enough so that you’ll notice it when it shows up?

______________EXCERPT ENDS_____________

One More Caleb Post...

One more Caleb post as the month of February winds down...

When I see black Jeeps I smile. Why? They remind me of my son. I miss him. But each day I am blessed with many happy reminders of him (and others who have passed on). When I see a black Jeep, my heart feels lighter. My thoughts flash back to joyful times riding with Caleb behind the wheel of his own black Jeep. On my morning walk today, I saw three. I am buoyant.

Bright yellow rubber ducks and soap bubbles trigger happy Caleb-thoughts too. Chain mail and RenFairs, and Dr Pepper cans make me smile. (Caleb drank a lot of Dr. Pepper – always without ice, an idiosyncrasy he shares with his father.) There are so many delightful (and foolish) reminders of my son.

This time of year, I am especially cognizant of the hole left in my heart when Caleb died. (He died in a motorcycle accident on February 25th 2002, just days after his 26th birthday.)

I am even more cognizant these days, how losing him has changed who I am and how I live. In so many ways the change has been for the better. Rattled out of complacency and forced to live…to share my heart, to be open and vulnerable.

It sometimes seems to me when people die, they leave behind a little of themselves with those people who were part of their lives. I found myself expressing so many of mother and father’s traits after they died. And so it is with Caleb’s death. This legacy, these gifts of character that seem to surface after death are a wonderful surprise and a way to keep their spirits alive in daily life.

These days, I find myself living larger these days, loving more fully, being kinder, less impatient, more content, …I credit this to lessons learned from watching loved ones pass on to another realm.

This pilgrimage I am undertaking, this walk of gratitude, is, in part, realized because of Caleb. Our children spent many of their formative years living in Spain, so of course I am drawn there…it holds a sense of home for me. It was the place where I really learned to be a wife and mother. I raised my young family there. Spain was home for ten years. Caleb was born there, my daughter graduated from high school there.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but I know Caleb’s spirit is with me as I go about my days and as I make my happy plans for my pilgrimage. I am sure he will accompany me on my journey across northern Spain. And so will my mother and father. They will whisper to me and make me smile and laugh…or do the right thing…or take risks.

We all reflect one Spirit – this I know. We reflect Life, Truth, Love, Soul, Principle, Mind and Spirit – the myriad qualities associated with them.

We are not mere mortals…we are so much more.

Life is good…not always easy, often short, but Life is good…

I Dream of Wild Horses...

Sometimes, I dream of wild horses.

Years ago, I planned a trip to northern Spain. It included a few days among the wild horses. But when the time came to take the trip, my "client" decided a return to Granada and the Alhambra was more to her liking. The grand tour of northern Spain was cancelled. Sigh.

I wanted to spend time with these creatures.

Sometimes I dream of wild horses.

Will I see them on my pilgrimage? I don't know.

But, I will know they are there...

Life is good...just unpredictable...

"Ginn"
Toasting Caleb on This Day...

Why I am Walking the Camino...

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.

- Ernest Hemingway - A Farewell to Arms

My walk this morning is dedicated to the joyful memories and the gentle magic my son Caleb brought to my life and that his spirit continues to bring.

I miss him fiercely, but when I look beyond (let go) of this grief, I find myself capable of gratitude for the years we had together and for what his death taught me about living. Grief and pain are like staring at a dark shadow and failing to see the abundant light behind me. Walking through the shadow if death has left me with a new exuberance for life, a talent for living more joyfully, for trusting more and taking risks.

The opportunity - the courage and motivation and all the other things necessary to make this pilgrimage possible (necassary), are in part due, to what I learned going through the experience of our son's death.

On this morning walk I enjoyed the beauty of a fine spring day full of promise.

Life is good...

Remembering Caleb J. Pulver: 02/22/76 - 02/25/02

See: www.pulverpages.com - CALEB Library Project & My Malawi Journals.

See photos of Caleb on my Facebook page

Clip Joint!

I spent the weekend clipping tags, cutting off buttons, etc. Every ounce counts. I shaved off 5 ounces off a 10-ounce windbreaker and several ounces off my sleeping bag and other items.

Laugh if you will, but 4 ounces is a tube of toothpaste...a couple pairs if silk sock-liners...a scarf...toilet paper...

Small things count - whoever said "don't sweat the small stuff" was probably not a backpacker!

See the photo to view my cumulative pile. I will post the weight collectively when I am finished with this project.

Of course, I am shaving off small amounts of weight yet, I am very likely to bring along some items others will find frivolous.

This exercise is kind of like drinking a diet Coke and eating a Snicker bar at the same time.

It is all about trade offs.

I will take a few frivilous items on my journey - a small, yellow rubber duck will probably travel with me...that is a story for another day.

Life is good...take it light! 8-)

Not on My To-Do List...

I was on some kind of mission. Memory fails me, but I was in my big, red pick-up truck, headed off to do a task when the Universe imposed a detour, a literal detour. As you in “you can’t get there from here”.

I took this in stride and was still right on schedule when a sign captured my attention: Yard Sale”. In my personal book of laws, passing a yard sale without stopping has a stiff penalty. So I pulled over and joined the people pawing through boxes of treasures.

In Santa Fe, yard sales are exceptionally delightful. The city draws people who appreciate art and culture and who often have the means to support a very comfortable lifestyle. These people arrive, unpack and soon have a yard sale as they remodel their homes to reflect the Santa Fe style. Then a couple years later they pack up to move elsewhere and again have a yard sale of delights and unique items.

Not only are the yard sales a great place to find excellent additions to the household or the wardrobe, you also meet amazing people who have lead full, rich lives and they frequently are willing to talk about them. It is refreshing how open and willing to talk the strangers who populate Santa Fe really are. Is it harmonic rhythms or what? Who knows? Who cares? Just enjoy the stories and the gifts that unfold.

At this particular, unplanned yard sale stop, my sweet husband was drawn to a yet untapped box and what did he find? A primitive wooden painting of St James, the Moorslayer! (One of his alter-egos, perhaps not the favorite of gentle pilgrims, yet the very St James whose relics are found at the end of El Camino under the cathedral at Santiago de Compostela. See the photo.)

After negotiating an excellent price for this icon, I exchanged business cards with another woman who heard me mention my upcoming pilgrimage to Santiago. And before I knew it, my network of veteran pilgrims expanded by one. I could hardly keep up with the woman as she enthusiastically spilled out advice and anecdotes.

I stood, happily listening and learning and totally forgot about the errand that had brought me out that day. Warm conversation, good advice, time to soak it all in...what could be more improtant?

Thus is the subtle magic of the universe. We are often right where we should be, if we have sense enough to pay attention.

The Rain in Spain...

The rain in Spain falls mainly - in Spring.


Long ago, I lived on the dry plains in central Spain and have dealt with the infamous rain alluded to in the "My Fair Lady" tune everyone seems to know. But frankly the thought of slogging through the cold, driving rains of northern Spain puts a bit of a damper (yikes, baaaaad pun) on my pleasure in walking the pilgrimage to Santiago. In northern Spain, Galicia in particular, it rains frequently. I get cold just thinking of walking in a downpour actually.


Of course the old adage (April showers bring May flowers) will lighten my step. I anticipate seeing beautiful and bounteous blossoms blanketing the hills, dales and mountainsides. I will be happily slogging through the mud snapping photos of the glorious green and the riot of colors. How well I remember the hillsides covered with stunning red poppies. The countryside in Spring is like a Monet painting or a colorful Picasso canvas. I will hardly mind the cold, rain and mud.


In fact I may almost blend in with those brilliant scarlet poppies. Why? because one more decision has been made and one more step taken: my sweet and generous spouse went online and kindly ordered me a wonderful piece of rain gear to keep me warm and dry as I make my trek. This clever rain coat (see the photo above - but mine is an outrageous poppy RED!) goes over the backpack to keep everything dry. It is an Altus poncho and comes highly recommended among pilgrim experts who have been guiding me through through ropes.


The poncho weighs about a pound, but it is both a pack cover and a jacket. It converts for use with or without the backpack too. It has a full zipper and that appeals to me - many others I looked at must go over the head. The zipper improves ventilation too. I can think of ways to use it for other purposes too.


So in a week to ten days my red rain gear should arrive. And of course I will put it on over my backpack and walk the dog. I imagine our rural neighbors will be puzzled or amused when they look out their windows and see the odd, red, hunchbacked figure loping happily along behind the 3-legged dog!


One more decision down (thanks to my spouse!). Bring on those April showers! 8-)


Life is good...

A One-Legged Woman and a Three-Legged Dog

I have a three-legged dog. Where ever we go, we get many comments from the strangers we meet.

Their comments are often telling about their own sense of life and limitations and their values. They lament and sigh and pity our dog. Meanwhile Miss Zia sits happily at our feet, smiling up at us, tail wagging, waiting to go for a run.

Sometimes people even give us kudos for taking Miss Zia into our lives. As if the loss of her rear left leg is a flaw disqualifying her from a full rich life.

No, Miss Zia leaps and bounds, merrily chases rabbits, digs holes and romps and plays with vim and vigor. She energizes me and makes me laugh.

I have been following a blog about a woman (Sarah) with only one leg. Sarah recently climbed Mt Kilimanjaro - read her account of the summit and see what a woman with one leg has just done. Sarah's blog is powerful and a wonderful reminder that we follow our dreams regardless of what others may consider limitations. (FYI: Sarah also walked the Camino...) Following is a link to her blog:

http://sidestix.blogspot.com/

Life is good...

Teflon Trousers!

Yes, I purchased Teflon trousers.

It makes me laugh to say it aloud. Teflon trousers. Am I hot stuff in my Teflon trousers?

They weigh nothing, they dry quickly, they never wrinkle, ... how could I resist?

These days, travelling light influences my choices.

In my "real" life I am a fan of cotton, but having some life experience has taught me that cotton is not the choice of a wise packer.

I spent the weekend weighing things. While weight is not the only consideration, it is certainly a factor in some of my choices as I prepare for this long walk across northern Spain.

When it is finally time to make the final cut, weight may be the deciding factor, but then again, it may not be the ultimate consideration. Interesting how packing decisions can be so telling about one's values and beliefs.

In my mind a pilgrimage involves simply setting out with what you have and following your heart, not your head, as you take each step forward. There is a huge element of trust (or faith) implied in the decision to call this long, lovely walk a pilgrimage. It is not about equipment and gear.

So I am inclined to just step out with the clothes I have...just be who I am and move out proudly and make do.

Henry David Thoreau said we should "...beware of all enterprises that require a new set of clothes." A wise and witty man, worthy of listening to. His advice is good...but I bought the Teflon trousers anyway...

Life is good - but far too busy these days. More later...

My Pilgrim Credential Arrived!

My pilgrim credentials arrived in my mailbox yesterday and I am delighted!

In about 12 weeks I will be in Spain and my pilgrimage will officially begin.

Of course in many ways, everything that leads up to walking the Camino is part of the pilgrimage too.

In life, it is the journey that matter and not the destination and so it is with a pilgrimage.

The credential (or pilgrim passport as it is often called) documents each stop along the pilgram's path. Traditionally, pilgrims present this document in villages or towns they pass through and a local official places a stamp therein.

Upon arrival at the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, the passport is again presented, but this time the pilgrim is rewarded with a formal certificate called a compostela.

Pilgrims must walk the last 100 kilometers (and show the appropriate stamps) in order to earn the compostela. Those who are walking for religious reasons receive a beautiful document, while those who walk the camino for sport or the challenge, earn a less grandiose compostela. I will walk from Roncevalles or Pamplona - close to 800 kilometers. My motivation is spiritual (but fun is always important to me!).

I have heard the compostela jokingly referred to as a "get out of hell free card"! Why? Because many pilgrims walk the Camino as an act of penance. And their reward is the forgiveness of their sins.

I am walking the Camino as an act of gratitude, but I'll hang onto the compostela. I would not want to spend ANY time in hell!

{Photo credit: @ Virginia J Pulver, Santa Fe 2009}

The Tickets are Purchased!

Snow is flying outside the window, but I am dreaming of springtime on the Camino - of poppies along the road to Santaiago de Compostela; flocks of sheep grazing on the green hillsides; of castles in Spain reminding me of bygone days.

I am one step closer to making my dreams come true. I have purchased tickets. I am committed to dates now.

As I bide my time, quietly anticipating my walk across northern Spain, I find myself remembering what it was like to be in the early stages of pregnancy. I wanted to share my excitement and enthusiasm with everyone I met. I had to learn to be discreet and to refrain from overwhelming people with my most favorite topic. These days it is not an unborn child that preoccupies me, but this 800 kilometer walk of gratitude.

Yes, I want to talk about it. But who really wants to hear my rambling thoughts on this endeavor that is alien to so many of the people I know?

So, mstly, I simply cherish my hopes and dreams and thoughts about this special adventure. I savor my thoughts. I have private conversations with myself.

With the Camino on my mind, I seem to see things through new eyes (as Proust says). On my daily dogwalks in the snow and mud of winter in Santa Fe, I consider the terrain and climate. I compare it to my memories of life in Spain. I look at the vegetation, the clouds, the sky...all of them are viewed through the lens of how they compare to the Camino. I am obssesed on things-Camino.

For now, it is enough to have my tickets and on this cold, blustery winter day, to dream of a sunny springtime in northern Spain.

These Boots are Made for Walking!

My Camino boots arrived last week and I love them.

We've begun, what will be a long, comfortable friendship.

These boots will be my constant companion as I make my pilgrimage in late April. They represent the first of a few investments I must make to prepare for this journey of 800 kilometers.

Boots and I have been trekking through snow and mud all week. We trail after my over exuberant pound-puppy (who believes she is actually a sled-dog). We get a good workout.

When I come in from the cold I find myself loathe to remove my comfortable new boots. I sit at my laptop, tapping away, occasionally stealing glances at the big, mud-covered boots on my feet under the desk.