Rhythm and Repose

It’s hard to believe that a month ago today, on October 23, I arrived in Santiago de Compostela.

I miss the Camino. I miss the walking, the meditation, and the prayer. The physical pain I struggled with has faded in memory, leaving only pleasant thoughts of endless hours in deep spiritual contemplation…

I think I actually miss the meseta most… the long, shadeless stretches between towns… the sound of my step, the movement of my poles, the rhythm of the walk… all lulling me into a prayerful trance of love, peace, and joy…

Sometimes, when I close my eyes and quiet my mind, I can feel it again. I can feel the rhythm of my walk… my feet and shoulders all moving to the beat of some drum deep within me whispering: left… right… left… right…

It’s amazing how that rhythm comforts me, quickly transporting me to the spiritual calm that I now know resides within.

Not all days are rhythm and repose, however. Since I have been home, I have struggled to maintain any kind of rhythm or routine. One day slips into another and before I know it, the weekend is here again.

I thought I would love this. I thought I would love the freedom from everything, and attachment to nothing. I admit, it has been nice to have the downtime, but I am not “lurving” it. It is just “okay.” Mostly though, as the days start to blend together, I realize that life is slipping away. MY life is slipping away.

What happened to the woman who was so excited to be living THIS life? MY life? She’s still here. Somewhere.

I admit, I kind of went into a semi-coma there after returning home from the Camino. I think I just needed time to SIT. But now… now I just feel lazy. Sloth-like, you might even say.

I miss rhythm… routine… I miss having a plan, a purpose. What am I doing with my life????

This morning I had a chance to think about all of this. If I could live any kind of life, what would it look like? What are my priorities? What brings me happiness? What does my heart truly desire? What do I want more than anything else in the world? If I could create the best possible life for me, what would it look like?

The answers I came up with did not necessarily surprise me. What surprised me was my immediate excitement and willingness to make changes to achieve those goals. It was as if something finally clicked inside, and I realized that if I did X, Y, and Z, then I might actually achieve that “best life” I had dreamed about. How exciting is that?

So, I am making choices and it feels good. But what feels really good is knowing that all of these choices are leading (God-willing) to a good and happy life. My life. A life of rhythm and repose.

Four Years Ago Today

Four years ago today I choose to stop driving because of my vision loss, caused by Retinitis Pigmentosa.

On November 12, 2004, I had an annual appointment with my ophthalmologist. At the appointment, my doctor asked me the usual questions about how my vision was doing. Then he paused, and asked me if I was still driving.

I responded, “Oh yes! I had a great drive in today. It’s a beautiful day out and…”

The look on my doctor’s face stopped me mid-sentence. At that moment I knew that it was time for me to stop driving.

People with RP, or slow vision loss, often wonder how they are supposed to know when it is time to “hang up the keys.” I always knew that the day would come when I would have to stop driving, but I didn’t know when, or how I was going to make that decision. I didn’t want to sell myself short and cut off that independence too soon, but I also didn’t want to endanger myself or others. It’s a fine line. A very fine line.

So when that day came, and I saw the look on my doctor’s face, I think it confirmed what I already knew, but I couldn’t seem to decide for myself. It took the authority figure of my doctor to help me realize the potential danger I was putting myself and others in.

So I choose to stop. Right then and there. Cold turkey. I didn’t even drive home from the appointment. The look on my doctor’s face hit me that hard. Plus, I knew myself well enough to know that if I didn’t quit cold turkey, then that “fine line” would always be blurred. I might always be tempted to drive “just one more time.”

Quitting driving was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make. To consciously give up that independence was devastating. Absolutely devastating. As melodramatic as this is going to sound, I really didn’t know how I was going to survive.

In addition, at the appointment, my doctor told me that the flashes of light I had been seeing inside my eyes since my high school years, were cells dying. Every flash of light was more vision lost. I had no idea. I mean, I figured it had something to do with my Retinitis Pigmentosa, but I didn’t realize that it was literally cells dying. I could no longer deny that I was losing my vision; the flashes in my eyes wouldn’t let me.

My loss of independence from driving devastated me, but it was my inability to hide from my vision loss that really shattered me. I felt broken, and incapable of doing anything to fix the situation or myself. So I did the only thing I could think to do: I turned to God.

At this point in my faith, I was still loosely drawing the boundary lines of what I believed and what I didn’t. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I turned to God, I just knew that it felt like my only option. I was that depressed and hopeless.

So I prayed, and I asked people in my church community to pray for me. Later, I found out that people in my church then asked others to pray too. People I didn’t even know where praying for me, trying to help me overcome the loss of independence that driving once provided me, and also to help me accept my impending vision loss. It was humbling, to say the least.

Months passed. Grief lingered over the winter, despite the help and support of my amazing family, friends and church community. But then, slowly, the following summer, the veil started to lift. And one morning, I woke up, and I just knew that it was all going to be okay. The grief was gone. Just like that.

And so here I am, four years later. It’s amazing how things can change in such a short amount of time. I no longer feel devastated or shattered by my vision loss. Rather, I consider it one of the biggest blessings of my life because, ironically, in the end, my vision loss is what opened my eyes to the power of God. And for that I will always be grateful.

Do I miss driving? Of course. I used to love taking the “Magic Bean” (the name of my 1996 Honda Civic Hatchback) on road trips. Highway driving was my favorite: a long stretch of road, music on the radio, and the wind in my hair. And, I miss the convenience of driving and owning a car. If I forgot something at the store, I could just zoom out and get it.

But I no longer feel hopeless without it. Thanks to my family, my friends, and the various means of transportation (rail, air, bus, not to mention my own two legs), I have options. And, I think that is one of the hardest things about vision loss: Something is taken away from you without your consent, and it is difficult to remember that you still have options. You still have choices. You can still have independence.

I feel particularly grateful to my family and friends, who have helped me understand this. Thank you for mourning with me, when I needed to grieve. And thank you for supporting and encouraging me as I took those first few timid steps back into my newly found independence.

Because of your support and encouragement, those first few baby steps eventually led to me walking across Spain.

Who knows what other adventures still await.

Blessings,
Luci

Camino Updates

I have updated a few of the Camino pages listed on the right hand side, under “Additional Information.”

I added photos to “Camino Food,” updated “Camino Gear,” and added “Camino Waymarks.” I also wrote a new blog entry called “Camino Q&A.” Enjoy!

If you are planning on walking the Camino and have any questions, just let me know. I’m happy to help!

Camino Q&A

I have received a lot of questions about the Camino and I thought I would put them in writing. If you have additional questions, just let me know!

Q: What kind of news do you get about home? Anything about the upcoming election, or are you like “it can wait.”

A: We actually didn’t get a lot of news while on the Camino. One day we stopped at a bar and we saw Bush on Spanish news with the words $700 Billion, and we knew something big was going on. It wasn’t until I got back though that I really learned what “The Bailout” was all about. That was the extent of the US news we received. Incidentally, Spain received some major flooding in their southern regions while we were there, and so we did see some coverage of that.

Q: Do you and Ann dine mostly alone or with others?

A: Breakfast and lunch was usually with just the two of us. As for dinners… I’d say at the beginning of the Camino the two of us ate alone, but near the end of the Camino we usually had dinner with other pilgrims we met along the way.

Q: What do people most want to know about you when you meet them (after they find out you are American and don’t speak much Spanish)?

A: Conversation among pilgrims usually revolves around three things: 1) Distance (kilometers walked that day, since we started the Camino, and remaining until Santiago). 2) Foot health (how many blisters and how big). And 3) Snoring. (It amazing how many different types of snoring there are.)

When you start to get to know other pilgrims, conversations will then go a little deeper and you find out a little more about each other. But for the most part, those three topics dominate pilgrim conversations. (And, yes, it does get old.)

Q: Are you up front with them about your night-blindness and “low vision” or do you wait to talk about it until they bring it up?

A: I only ended up telling a handful of people about my vision loss. It’s not that I was trying to hide it, it’s just that often times there really wasn’t a point to bringing it up. Most people we met we only saw a handful of times and conversations wouldn’t go that “deep.” Or, an opportunity to share just never came up.

Q: Has your vision been a problem more so on the Camino vs. if you had just stayed home, or is it about the same kind of challenge still?

A: In essence, vision loss is a challenge no matter where you are. However, trying to traverse 400 miles of sometimes very rocky and uneven surfaces definitely presented a greater challenge than simply walking around the house, where I have already identified furniture, steps and other hazards.

I think it’s fair to say that familiar surroundings are always going to be preferred by anyone with vision loss, but that doesn’t mean that they should never venture out. What kind of life would that be?

Q: Have you felt safe most of the time, or are you being very conscious of where your money and bags are all the time, etc., and watching your back always out of the corner of your eye?

A: Ann and I were amazed at how safe we each felt while walking the Camino. That said, you should always be aware of your surroundings, and keep an eye on your possessions.

Pilgrims walking the Camino are protected by Spanish law. Offenses committed against them are taken very seriously. Sitting here now, I cannot remember a time when I felt any kind of danger. Some local people may not like all of the pilgrims constantly coming through their towns, but I never felt like I was ever in any kind of harm’s way.

Honestly, if I didn’t have vision loss and need some assistance on that front, I would feel comfortable walking the Camino by myself, a single woman.

Q: Is the Camino crowded? How many people are on it at the same time as you? Do you and Ann walk alone or find a group to walk with? Do people pass you up and walk faster?

A: There were some days that the Camino felt like a highway. We would climb to the top of a hill and look down the other side and see people all along the road. Other days, we wouldn’t run into anyone. Most days though, we would see a handful or people when they passed us. We were almost always the slowest people walking. Also, for the most part, Ann and I walked separately, each lost in our own thoughts.

Q: Would you do it again?

A: Ah, the million dollar question. When I first started walking, I often wondered why anyone would come back and do it a second, third, or more times. About two-thirds of the way through though, I began to understand why.

The Camino is unlike anything else in the world. It is a safe, reasonably affordable, well-marked journey that provides a unique opportunity to disconnect – from the world, from problems, from people, etc. Everyone I met on the Camino seemed to be at some sort of crossroads in their life.

The Camino was much tougher physically than I was prepared for. Low vision and aching feet made each day challenging. Also, the alburgues became as much of a challenge for me as the walking. Because of my vision loss, I was never fully able to relax when I stayed in an alburgue. I would always have to be on high alert, looking out for boots and backpacks and other gear. Plus, I’m an introvert and I never got the “alone time” I needed at the end of the day.

But then there were the spiritual highs I experienced during the walking day, the times when I was able to transcend any physical or emotional issues I was having and focus solely on God. During those times, I never wanted the Camino to end.

So, would I do it again?

Yes.

I can’t believe I just wrote that. But, yes. I would walk it again. Now that I’m back at home, and the physical pain has subsided, I keep thinking about the time I spent in prayer with God. It was amazing and unlike anything I had ever experienced. It alone was worth every step.

Adjusting to the Unknown

I’m still adjusting to being home.

Which, let me be clear, is different that saying: I am still adjusting to no longer being on the Camino. Or, I am still adjusting to not walking long distances every day. Those two things I have perfectly adjusted to, much to the happiness of my aching feet.

I am still adjusting to being home.

Which, now that I have written that, isn’t really what I want to say at all. Because being home isn’t what I am struggling with. Being home has been lovely. Being home, seeing my family, my friends, and living a life of unemployed leisure has actually taken no adjustment on my part whatsoever.

So what the heck am I still adjusting to? Is “adjusting” even the right word? What, exactly, is my problem?

(Welcome to the inner workings of my brain.)

It’s the unknown. I am still adjusting to the unknown. My unknown. The huge, blank slate before me that is my life. My future.

The closest thing I currently have to a goal is getting a part-time holiday job at a local retail store. Something to get me through the next couple of months and COBRA payments. But then what? More travel? A new career? Which career?

I’m open to thoughts and suggestions. I’m open to anything, really, as long as it’s not Dunder-Mifflin, Inc.

The Return Home

“As you may know, I spent the last three months in Africa. A wondrous, magical place. But as shadows lengthen across the KBHR window, thoughts turn to homecoming. Journey’s end. Because in a sense it’s the coming back, the return, which gives meaning to the going forth. We really don’t know where we’ve been until we’ve come back to where we were. Only, where we were may not be as it was because of who we’ve become. Which, after all, is why we left.”
–Bernard, “Northern Exposure” Episode 3.21

Homecoming. Journey’s end. The return home.

It has been one week since I have returned. In that time, I have been catching up with family and friends, and rediscovering the joys of the mundane:

• Using shampoo AND conditioner, instead of a 2-in-1
• Not sleeping in a sleeping bag
• Doing laundry. For free. In a machine.
• Not wearing the same clothes every day
• Getting my haircut
• Walking up and down grocery store aisles in giddy excitement at all the food choices

I have also been watching the news and can now tell you what “The Bailout” is and who “joe the Plumber” most likely voted for on Election Day.

Mostly though, I have been reflecting… contemplating my recent 400-mile achievement and my unknown future… wondering how I can use the momentum from one to move ahead in the other.

Part of me feels lost and uncertain. Displaced. I have so much freedom, yet so little direction. Where do I go from here?

That said, another part of me feels found. My faith has been solidified. My purpose has been discovered. My confidence has been boosted from accomplishing such an outrageous goal.

How do I unite my lost with my found to create my future?

Baby steps, I guess. Living life one decision at a time. Living life with patience. Grace.

It’s a work in progress, but that’s where I am today. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Photos are UP!

Greetings All,

Thought you might like to know that I have added photos of the Camino to the blog! Use the calendar to click on a date between September 8 and October 27 to see the photos taken on that day.

I’m still planning on adding a few more things to the Camino section of the blog – info on waymarking, contour maps for daily walks, etc. I’ll let you know when that info is up.

Also, a new general blog entry is coming soon, detailing the riveting life of unemployed Luci. I know, you can’t wait, can you?

Happy Election Day!