My Camino of Words – Finding Solace Through the Power of Writing
In a world brimming with noise, hate, and division weighing heavy on my heart, I find myself longing for a path to solace. My thoughts drift to The Camino, The Way—a sacred pilgrimage where thousands walk seeking truth, guided by waypoints, those meaningful stops where the soul reflects, connects to history, and mirrors life’s highs and lows. But physically trekking Spain’s trails isn’t an option for me. So, I asked myself: What is the Camino, and how can it shape my life without taking those steps?
For me, the Camino transcends a physical journey—it’s a metaphor I walk through words. It represents:
The first waypoint emerged in a high school classroom with Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. As a teenager chafing at school’s restraints, his words struck me: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” His survival in Nazi camps—finding purpose through love and suffering—ignited a spark in my soul. I recall underlining “The meaning of life differs from man to man,” a beacon I couldn’t yet follow but never forgot—my initial call to meaning.
The next waypoint arrived in my 30s with Robin Lee Graham’s Dove. His story of sailing alone across oceans at 16 mirrored my yearning to break free from society’s constraints. A loner by nature, I resonated with his solitude and defiance, through his later struggles with reintegration in Home is the Sailor, I saw an echoing of my own adrift moments—a call to understand myself.
My 40s marked another waypoint with a Fibromyalgia diagnosis, intensifying my need for quiet and solitude. Its physical and emotional weight forced me to confront my suffering, to choose, as did Frankl, to find meaning in the pain, to negotiate peace with my body and mind. This period had also awakened my metaphysical side, a call to recognize myself. Tarot became a valued tool for self-discovery and in my late 50s, guided me through widowhood with questions like “What do I need to know today?” The Star’s hope and The Hermit’s wisdom offered direction when I felt lost.
In my 60s, a new waypoint emerged as my hunger for spiritual insight grew. Gregg Braden’s quantum interconnectedness, Jack Kornfield’s mindful compassion in The Wise Heart, Michael Singer’s freedom from mind chatter, Thich Nhat Hanh’s radical presence in Peace Is Every Step, Paramahansa Yogananda’s mysticism, and Dan Millman’s balanced spirituality deepened my path. These voices, echoing Frankl’s light in darkness, called me to accept myself.
This journey, like a board game of leaps and setbacks, wove resilience through its waypoints—Fibromyalgia, widowhood, and a divided world’s weight. As the Hermit of Tarot, I embrace solitude as strength, appreciating my history—Frankl’s spark, Graham’s rebellion, suffering’s lessons—as a map forward. Looking back, I can see how my Camino taught me choice: to find meaning, defy conformity, and embrace who I am.
As a writer, I see words holding the same purpose as the Camino. They’re my pilgrimage, introspection, and history—a way to navigate life’s ups and downs. In Canada, where division sometimes dims empathy, my pen becomes a sail, tracing solace from personal struggles. Whether a blog, poem, or book, words are my steps, inviting you to walk your Camino—perhaps through journaling or storytelling—to find your truth.
What’s your “why”? How do words guide your journey? Share below—I’d love to hear your path to solace.
~yours in ink ML
- A Pilgrimage: A sacred act driven by a call to truth.
- A Walk of Introspection: A solitary path where wisdom emerges.
- A Journey Through History: Connecting the past to shape the present.
- Ups and Downs: Hardships and joys reflecting life’s ebb and flow.
The first waypoint emerged in a high school classroom with Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. As a teenager chafing at school’s restraints, his words struck me: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” His survival in Nazi camps—finding purpose through love and suffering—ignited a spark in my soul. I recall underlining “The meaning of life differs from man to man,” a beacon I couldn’t yet follow but never forgot—my initial call to meaning.
The next waypoint arrived in my 30s with Robin Lee Graham’s Dove. His story of sailing alone across oceans at 16 mirrored my yearning to break free from society’s constraints. A loner by nature, I resonated with his solitude and defiance, through his later struggles with reintegration in Home is the Sailor, I saw an echoing of my own adrift moments—a call to understand myself.
My 40s marked another waypoint with a Fibromyalgia diagnosis, intensifying my need for quiet and solitude. Its physical and emotional weight forced me to confront my suffering, to choose, as did Frankl, to find meaning in the pain, to negotiate peace with my body and mind. This period had also awakened my metaphysical side, a call to recognize myself. Tarot became a valued tool for self-discovery and in my late 50s, guided me through widowhood with questions like “What do I need to know today?” The Star’s hope and The Hermit’s wisdom offered direction when I felt lost.
In my 60s, a new waypoint emerged as my hunger for spiritual insight grew. Gregg Braden’s quantum interconnectedness, Jack Kornfield’s mindful compassion in The Wise Heart, Michael Singer’s freedom from mind chatter, Thich Nhat Hanh’s radical presence in Peace Is Every Step, Paramahansa Yogananda’s mysticism, and Dan Millman’s balanced spirituality deepened my path. These voices, echoing Frankl’s light in darkness, called me to accept myself.
This journey, like a board game of leaps and setbacks, wove resilience through its waypoints—Fibromyalgia, widowhood, and a divided world’s weight. As the Hermit of Tarot, I embrace solitude as strength, appreciating my history—Frankl’s spark, Graham’s rebellion, suffering’s lessons—as a map forward. Looking back, I can see how my Camino taught me choice: to find meaning, defy conformity, and embrace who I am.
As a writer, I see words holding the same purpose as the Camino. They’re my pilgrimage, introspection, and history—a way to navigate life’s ups and downs. In Canada, where division sometimes dims empathy, my pen becomes a sail, tracing solace from personal struggles. Whether a blog, poem, or book, words are my steps, inviting you to walk your Camino—perhaps through journaling or storytelling—to find your truth.
What’s your “why”? How do words guide your journey? Share below—I’d love to hear your path to solace.
~yours in ink ML
Comments
Post a Comment
Share your poetic thoughts or reflections—let’s weave words together in this space! Comments are welcomed and reviewed to keep the muse flowing with kindness and inspiration.