Speaking Of Walks...

Me, stepping on the road in Bolivia.

Leaving Ireland tomorrow morning for France and the start of the Camino de Santiago. Dealing with some last-minute panic. I get this a lot on the eve of a big adventure, not sleeping well and staying awake with thoughts like "Why am I doing this?" and "I don't want to go." Wondering what's it all about. Questioning the goodness, the point of travel and adventure and being on my own...

Along with the usual suspects of fear and self-doubt, there's the fact that I'm leaving from Ireland, a country that can have a very nurturing and lulling effect on me. During these last couple weeks especially my friends here have been more than generous to me, and I realized I was starting to become too complacent, even in such a short amount of time. Now just before my Camino, I feel a bit like a newborn wanting to crawl back into its mama's womb.

I don't feel very spiritual at the moment taking off on this supposedly very spiritual journey. I feel something of a fool. I've got some religious items to protect me or guide me or...I'm not even sure what. Superstitious crutches probably, if I had to be honest. I also have my dad's dog tags from when he was in the Army, a draftee in the Korean War. On his tags are a St. Christopher medal, even though my dad wasn't Catholic and was never even particularly religious or Christian. And even though they say St. Christopher, the old patron saint of travelers, has been deposed from holyhood. Nonetheless, I still trust the old saint--and whatever it is I may draw from my dad's old tags. My dad's tags to me will be a reminder of both home and survivorhood, of where I'm from and I suppose what I'm aiming for, what I'm wanting, what I'm seeking...a way of keeping me going and keeping me grounded. Wish me luck anyway, readers, wish me a buen camino. I'm superstitious after all.

My father's dog tags (he was a draftee in the Korean War) and St. Christopher medal.