I stayed up way too late last night reading Francis Tarpon's well-known blog post "Ten Reasons El Camino Santiago Sucks" (not scenic, too crowded, too paved, the "bitch" in Finisterre that wouldn't let him stay in an albergue, etc.), and the hundreds of comments by folks who had walked the Camino that followed this post--most of them angry at Tarpon. There was one reaction to the blog post that was very moving, which I'll share here. I can't credit the writer, as it was an anonymous blog comment. But I thought it beautifully communicated the power that a pilgrimage can hold, and I hope to keep what the writer says in my heart when I start walking in a few weeks:
"You can find God in a mud puddle. Or in a diamond. Nowhere and everywhere. God is on the highway and on a dirt path. I was not a tourist on the Camino this last fall, I was a pilgrim with my hat in my hand all 500 miles. Grateful, heartbroken and heart-open.
I took a break from a year of supporting my daughter and her son, age 2, who had cancer (he died just before Christmas). It was a brutal year of horrific treatment and suffering for this beautiful child.
So I read with a kind of wry smile when you say the Camino sucked. Because some "bitch" didn't deliver, because it wasn't "wild" enough or hip enough. For me, walking the Way gave me exactly what I needed: I returned to my family with renewed strength and peace to face the unthinkable. I didn't know he was going to die when I was on the camino, in fact, I took the month off because he was doing so much better and was finished with the brutal therapies. A month after I returned from Camino he relapsed and the cancer returned with a vengeance unexpectedly, and he died a very painful, heartbreaking death under hospice care. we were all helpless.
But it was the Camino experience, and the deeper faith it brought me, that saw me through. I learned to accept what was in front of me, be it a delayed or non-existent shower, a yucky meal, a noisy albergue, or no room at the albergue and more kilometers to walk on aching feet. I learned to put one foot in front of the other and be grateful. I learned to tolerate others, which sometimes I did well, sometimes I sucked at that. I walked every mile with a prayer in my heart and tried to be kind to others. Sometimes I failed.
I returned a better person, which is why I went. I didn't look at How the Camino Sucked, I looked at how i sucked, which was illuminated in surprising ways by all the difficulties you speak of.
The Camino is like a dear, dear friend who gave me more than I could ever give back. You should understand that Mr. Tapon. When you throw insults around, my loyalty and sense of indebtedness kicks in, and I want to defend my friend. I only wish you could know the Camino like I do. As long as you "want" stuff, you never will.
All the reasons the Camino sucked for you were, for me, reasons to love it all the more. The point of life isn't always comfort, entertainment and thrills. In fact, it never is.
I'm glad you said what you wanted to say. I've said what I wanted to say. Vive free speech forever."