From the Camino: On the second day out of Santander, I had geared up for the rain that was falling, the first of my Camino. It rained most of the day. I had a wonderful waterproof windbreaker that I wore with a cap, to keep the water out of my eyes. My pants and shoes were soaked, but I didn’t care. The rest of me was warm and comfortable.
I found myself walking through a small industrial area, following the yellow arrows past a large factory from the prior century that, having no cars in the large parking lot, appeared to be closed. It was large enough to have employed many people, in its day. I pondered how many dreams were fulfilled in building that factory, now lying sadly empty. I’m sure there were stories to tell of its rise and fall.
A short distance later I passed by a power plant, built close to a major highway. It was every bit as ugly as might be expected. It seemed a grim start to my day’s walk.
And then, for just a moment the downpour stopped, and in the moment’s rain-free clarity, I was able to see further into the distance. Between the big, noisy highway and the hulking, spewing power plant was a small valley, a thin strip of green with a charming, rain-filled stream flowing down its center. Coming as I do from a part of the world where the “rivers” only have water in the rainy season, this waterway gripped and held my attention as I pondered its mysteries.
If I glanced to the left, the multi-lane highway was still there. If I turned to the right, the power plant continued belching large plumes of steam and whatever else into the sky. It was only if I constricted my view to the center of the horizon, where the stream ran, that I could see the beauty. There was an important choice to make! What would I allow to frame that moment in the day? The brutal giant ugliness or the tiny but very real beauty of the little river valley?
I was reminded of a woman I once heard on an interview on the radio in the murky past, who carefully framed her Facebook posts. All of her college friends had seen her photos of the beautiful Appalachian landscape by her home. She had always taken pictures from her front deck looking west, where the hills were covered with forest, lush and green. Had she turned slightly to the east, though, there was a strip mine that mercilessly gutted the face of the earth. She never showed them that side of her view.
There are many things to be said about the curated portrayal of people’s lives on social media, but who could blame her for always looking west when she stepped out of the front doors of her home?
In that moment, surprised by the opportunity I, too, chose to constrict my view, in that little window between all the rain fall of that day, to the flowing stream and its green valley.
Psalm 104:10-15 – 10 You made springs flow in wadies that wind among the mountains. 11 They give drink to every beast of the field; here wild asses quench their thirst. 12 Beside them the birds of heaven nest; among the branches they sing. 13 You water the mountains from your chambers; from the fruit of your labor the earth abounds. 14 You make the grass grow for the cattle and plants for people’s work to bring forth food from the earth, 15 wine to gladden their hearts, oil to make their faces shine, and bread to sustain the human heart.
For reflection: The nature of the Camino offers us many opportunities for captivating beauty, but also instances of drab industrial dullness and seemingly soulless suburbs. Wide fields of grain with a broad horizon, signs of abundance and hope, can also be accompanied by boring sameness. Lush green forests are only possible because rains fall frequently, making mud of the path. The pleasure of camaraderie with others is a companion to the awkwardness, smells and noises of their company.
There are many difficulties on the Camino that quite rightly pull our attention away from the beautiful. Blisters need to be attended to with care. Hydration is not optional, nor sustenance. A poorly strapped mochila (“backpack”) needs to be adjusted. Struggling companions and strangers alike, need attention. In those moments, what else can we do but surrender to the need of the present moment? The problem is exemplified by the pebble that finds its way into our shoe. It grabs our attention and holds it determinedly. All of the rest of our body can be functioning perfectly, but how do we attend to all that wellness, when the discomfort of a small pebble demands our attention so aggressively? We can be walking in beauty, but consumed by a small but sharp pain. It’s so easy to fixate on the difficulty, the unpleasant or the aggravating, overlooking what is pleasant, uplifting and even nourishing to our spirits.
A few responses to difficulty suggest themselves. One option, when the heat, the muscle strain, the sweat, or the tiredness overwhelm – and they can – might be to minimize the problem, perhaps finding a shady spot, taking off our pack, and combining rest and appreciation, even if only for a moment. Yes, it will lengthen our day, but it will also improve the quality of those lengthened hours. Better a longer, more pleasant day, than a quicker arrival accompanied by constant unpleasantness. Arrival at today’s destination shouldn’t overwhelm our embrace of the journey as it happens.
Might it not also be possible for us to drum up the will to choose our conscious focus somewhere other than the discomfort we can’t alleviate? The mind is a powerful tool, if we choose to use it in this fashion.
Perhaps the problem is that we demand such a high standard of beauty, that perfection becomes the enemy of real but flawed beauty, so that anything less than perfect is not appreciated. Those who can rejoice in the symmetry of a dandelion blooming in the mud will inevitably be happier than those who only see the mud. Shall we not rejoice, even in small things in awkward places?
Again, we have a fundamental choice to make: where will we focus? The choice to be particularly attentive to beauty might be most important, in fact, when we are worn out, exasperated, overheated or experiencing uncomfortable twinges in our hinges.
Beauty is its own reward, for those who will it to be so, and it is a choice we get to make. If we are seeking a life of joy in the Holy presence of God, perhaps we need to choose to notice beauty when it presents itself, even between factories, noisy highways and power plants, amidst life’s everyday difficulties or Camino struggles.
