I stood shivering in the rain on the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in Spain, a piece of bread in one hand and an enormous hunk of local Arzua cheese in the other. Fellow pilgrims doggedly walked by, trailing colorful flowing rain ponchos over their packs. Lovely plum jam dripped off my makeshift sandwich and fell into the deepening rain puddles at my feet. A wave of surpassing stillness entered my body with the realization there was nowhere else to be but here. No deadline or destination. No schedule or commitment. No desire for something other, only deep gratitude at not feeling conflicted about what came next. The way forward was completely clear, making room for deep contentment. On the Camino de Santiago it is nearly impossible to lose one’s way as every intersection has a stone marker with a scallop shell and an clear arrow forward onto the road. Eating Arzua cheese in the rain standing up was unmarked by deliberation or navigation, since the only place to be was right there.
Life is ordinarily full of decisions, from the simple: what kind of peanut butter should I choose from the 15 choices in front of me? … to the complex: how should I prioritize my time in competing commitments?
“God is not the author of confusion, but of peace” is a passage in Corinthians. Often it is hard to suss out peace and purpose when there is much whirling around us. Attention gets co-opted by so many noises, some of them being noises that we permit and even invite. Moments of deep peace eating Arzua cheese in the rain are rare partly because the mind is always seeking to optimize experience and curate events. Another verse from Psalms is more directive and pleading: “Establish the work of my hands.” This prayer invites in a co-creator of our experience and choices, a partnership of working in tandem with God/Spirit/Universe.
I am several months back from the Camino, a trip I had looked forward to for decades. I hope this remembrance of deep peace can produce something abiding. I may not be on a literal pilgrimage any longer, but I can cultivate similar contentment in big and small ways. If it was found while shivering in the rain and savoring plum jam maybe it can be found while working with neighbors to dig out our cars this snowy season. December can be a flurry of a time with many choices of where to be when. May there be clear reminders to linger in transcendent moments and not abandon them in pursuit of something greater. The path will wait for us even when we stand still.
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