Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten Your Load

Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten Your Load

by | Sep 26, 2017 | Highly Sensitive Person, Personal Growth, Self Care, Travel

Last week, I returned from hiking the famous Camino de Santiago in Spain, but I never made it to Santiago.

Over the next few days, I’ll share with you what happened along with some Mindful Camino Lessons I learned along the way that just might resonate with you. 

But let me first explain the Camino de Santiago and my purpose for hiking it.

The Camino de Santiago was traditionally a religious pilgrimage to the city of Santiago de Compostela, the alleged burial site of the apostle St. James. Camino pilgrims hike the many different Caminos for many different reasons.

The Camino I chose was the Camino Primitivo, which is off the beaten path with beautiful natural landscapes. It seemed to be the most introvert-friendly, and in theory, I could hike it in under two weeks. The Camino Primitivo also happens to be the most physically challenging Camino.

My purpose for hiking the Camino was to have introspective time in nature. I wanted to know how I’d feel hiking alone for a long period of time–how my mind and body would respond. I’ve traveled solo quite a bit over the years. Each time I do, I’m reminded of my own strength and resilience. I was at a place in my life where I was craving that reminder again.

I got that reminder and much more.

One thing I realized is sensitive folks like me have a knack for tuning into the silver lining of challenging experiences and making deep meaning out of them.

Despite the setbacks that caused me to terminate my Camino early, I learned a great deal in the short time I hiked this epic journey. I’d like to share those tidbits of wisdom with you this week.

Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten your load (even more)

What are you carrying in your pack?

As an introspective person who faces anxiety, these are questions I ask myself regularly in my practice of self-care. But this inquiry was incessant during my recent trek of the Camino de Santiago.

The Camino forces you to examine the physical and emotional baggage you carry. I believe it’s one of the key lessons the Camino has to teach us.

For me, I get that less is more. I’ve lived out of the country for two years with everything I needed in a backpack. I value minimalism and I thought I was good at keeping my load light.

But there’s almost always something more we can unload. And we carry baggage in many forms, all of which I believe contributes to greater anxiety.

Starting to Let Go of Heavy Baggage

I carefully sorted through my backpack multiple times before my trip to pare down extra weight, as I knew I’d be hiking 20-30 kilometers per day. Yet, I was convinced each item was necessary.

On Day 1, a knee issue that has visited periodically over the last five years crept in on me. I found myself almost unable to walk at the end of the day. The struggle persisted over the next couple of days. And as I struggled, I realized I was bogged down by the weight of my pack.

As soon as I arrived in a town with a post office, I sent six pounds of belongings to some friends in Madrid. I also started carrying less water and food. My pack was lighter, but it wasn’t enough.

The pain continued. Many Camino pilgrims told me it was normal and my body would adjust. I wasn’t so sure. But I listened to them and continued experimenting to continue walking.

I tried sending my pack from one town to another so I could walk without carrying my baggage. I felt free and light at the start of this day, but eventually, the pain came back.

Why was I so set on continuing my trek and what else could I let go of at this point?

How Emotional Baggage Causes Us Pain

Before starting my Camino, I visited a friend in the south of Spain. One day we were talking about expectations of others. I said I felt that I let someone in my life down just before I left. He said, “Your pack might be light, but you arrived with baggage.”

My friend was right. He encouraged me to communicate with this person. I did… and to my surprise, this person responded in an understanding manner. A weight was lifted.

But was it?

One thing that became clear to me during my long walks was how much of my anxiety comes from the expectations of others, and probably more importantly, the expectations I put on myself with respect to others. And well, I could also add the expectations I have of others.

As an introvert, I often get overwhelmed with social obligations and family expectations. I hold high expectations for myself to be able to be a better yoga teacher. I judge myself for letting go of social work and not doing enough for social justice. The list goes on…

If I don’t check myself, I can easily get caught up in a cycle of needing to be all things to all people, including myself.

And well, these expectations showed up on the Camino. I was subconsciously carrying emotional weight and it was permeating my experience.

I expected a lot from my body. I expected it to be able to climb up and down mountains with little preparation, as it did ten years ago. I expected my mind to be able to handle the challenges and thought all this would require was mind over matter. I expected to be able to work through any discomfort. I expected the people around me to be right when they said my pain would go away after a few days.

I carried the weight of expectation in a range of forms during my Camino. I cried the day I let it go. And then, I realized that I felt lighter as I let go of the pressure I put on myself.

The pain in my knees did not go away, but I was able to move into the Camino my body and soul were asking of me.

Take a deep breath and ask yourself these questions:

  1. What is weighing you down?
  2. What does it feel like?
  3. Who are you carrying it for?
  4. What would happen if you let it go?

Below I’ve shared a video of my thoughts on baggage during my Camino.

I’d love to hear from you if you feel inclined to share your process of “shedding baggage” and “lightening your load”. 

The Way Travel Really Helps Me Cope With Loss

The Way Travel Really Helps Me Cope With Loss

by | Sep 26, 2016 | Personal Growth, Self Care, Travel

I know traveling through grief sounds cliche. What a perfect way to escape pain, right?

Maybe you’re thinking this. Or you hear others suggest that traveling after a major life issues is an escape. But is it?

I’ve found my travel experiences to be profoundly helpful in coping with loss.

But it might not be in the way you think.

Let me explain…

I have traveled solo quite a bit over the last decade, sometimes for weeks and sometimes for years.

In the last nine years, I’ve experienced the loss of my mom, stepdad, stepmom, grandma, and grandpa. About a year ago, my grandma started experiencing symptoms of the early stages of Alzheimer’s.

My stepmom had been successfully battling cancer for six years. But in September 2016, just as I was leaving for Colombia, we received news that she has very little time to live.

Pain hit hard.

I felt guilty for leaving. All the thoughts ran through my head… “My family needs me. I can’t go”, “Why am I even bothering with these retreats?”, “How silly this trip feels…”, etc.

Then I thought, no, I need this. And yeah, that thought crosses the minds of many when we recognize a need for reflection and self-care. Those are all real and valid needs. I’m not dismissing them. But this is not about a cushy vacation in the sun with warm waves that melt away problems.

My travel journey has been about coping and learning to die while I’m alive.

Here me out…

It’s a need that started in my teens… a need for preparation.

You see, I’m an empath. When someone close to me is experiencing pain, I feel it. I’m not talking standard empathy. I tend to take it on and I have to work to come out of it. My mind goes to the suffering of the other, frequently much more than my own.

Sometimes the pain feels like it’s too much. Like I’m going to break. I don’t want to see my loved ones suffer. I’m tired of loss. Of cancer. Of addiction. Of death. I start thinking of losing the other people in my life. I think of dying alone with dementia with no children or grandchildren to be there for me.

And I freak the eff out. Anxiety kicks in and knocks me out. The future feels unbearable and I forget my own strength completely for a time.

This is where travel enters.

Travel is not an escape. It’s my resilience training.

That week in Colombia, I posted photos on social media of idyllic landscapes, vibrant villages, and even a few of me sporting a sincere smile. But my week entailed a lot more.

As an adventure traveler, I often choose the path laden with obstacles. For this trip that meant food poisoning, nauseating bus rides, getting caught in torrential downpours, an Airbnb host who wouldn’t give me a pillowcase, and relentless quests to catch a bus, obtain wifi, or find a house to host a retreat…a couple of times to find no one there to greet me.

At times these challenges were met with a steady mind, but others with tears and frustration.

But then there were moments of great beauty and wonder as I greeted a small box fish under the sea during a dive or gazed up at the Dr. Seuss-esque towering wax palms of the Valle de Cocora. These moments of awe made me feel connected to those I’ve lost.

And then those moments pass and I need to reconnect.

I started the practice of Kriya Yoga at age 16 with my mom. I remember my then guru saying we should pray to live 100 years. I thought about what 100 years would look like. My friends and family would be gone. My youth and mobility would be gone.

It was then that I knew I would need to cultivate peace inside me in a way that keeps me in touch with impermanence.

I have made it my life’s path to stay in touch with the essence of death. Denying or escaping it only brings us greater anxiety later because it eventually smacks us in the face.

Instead I lean into the discomfort.

So, I choose the path that allows me to hold death in what one might call a liminal space of the mind, the intermediate place in between two states.

It’s a challenge to express into words. But what I can say is that sometimes when I am positioned within a room with four walls, pain hits me in a way that it is hard to move past. It’s too much. On the other side of coping, I could seemingly escape pain by taking up any number of addictions, attach myself to material possessions, or overachieve on everything.

Where I find balance is the space between… It’s the place where I can hold death and fear right in the forefront of my mind and allow it to sit there in a way that moves me toward living. I find I can do this best while doing things like hiking… in those moments when I am surrounded by obstacles or environments that place me outside of comfort.

The obstacles prepare me and grow me into a more resilient human being. And the vast perspective these experiences bring is what keeps me knocking on the door of life… all while recognizing someday the door won’t open.

I know it sounds morose, but I swear there’s freedom in this path.

Feeling Down? A Simple Trick to Ignite Your Strength

by | Sep 24, 2015 | Personal Growth, Self Care, Travel, Yoga

We all experience glum moods and irritation.

Sometimes it comes from an external circumstance. And sometimes it arises for what feels like no reason at all.

Today I will share with you a super simple way to spruce up your energy anywhere and anytime.

The other day I was sitting at the airport with a delayed flight…of four hours.

I had just finished an energizing few days visiting a friend.

But I was also been yearning to be in the presence of my partner…more than ever. Like, I really missed him.

Those four extra hours feel like an eternity.

The lovely Spirit Airlines (yes, we have a codependent sort of relationship—you keep behaving in a destructive way and I will pretend all is well) was about to grace the ornery passengers with amazingly generous food vouchers of a whopping $7.00.

While I was standing in line, I found myself slouching and slumping into negativity.

I quickly activated my “Tadasana” feet, legs, and spine. What a difference.

If you are unfamiliar with Tadasana, it is Mountain Pose. If you did not know any better, you’d think it is just standing.

But Mountain Pose is a very active pose energizing every body part from the inner arches of the feet to the skin on the back of the head.

I realized in that moment, that Tadasana is a pose that truly activates the mind into an alert and conscious state.

It is the pose that helps us to stand taller like a mountain, but also be taller and higher in our minds—just as we are when we are at the foothills of a mountain.

It reminds us not to get bogged down in the small hiccups of life and that all is in perfect harmony if we are in the mind.

Tadasana/Mountain Pose

1. Stand with your feet parallel at hip distance.

2. Distribute your weight evenly through all four corners of the feet—inner heel, outer heel, ball of the foot, and outer ball of the foot.

3. Lift up through the inner arches of your feet.

4. Tuck your tailbone slightly so that it points down toward the ground as you lift up through the pit of the abdomen.

5. Raise your heart and drop the low ribs gently.

6. Lift the back of the skull.

7. Breathe. Notice.

8. Be kind to yourself and others.

9. Trust that all is in perfect order.

How do you use Tadasana? Share your thoughts below!

Unbearable Lightness of Seeing

by | Apr 12, 2014 | Personal Growth, Self Care, Travel

Alone on an island. I know no one here.

For an American gal who loves her characteristic “personal space”, a couple of days ago I found myself far less than comfortable with being with myself again. Funny, I have been pleading for this lately.

It was at this time that I wished my boyfriend of two years well on his journey back to France. I said goodbye to him and our beautiful travel adventure. A torrential downpour graced us just as he was departing flushing the tears on our faces off with its gloom. Feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and utter weakness engulfed my body and spirit. I played with the idea of heading back to my two soul sisters in my former home of Tulum, Mexico. Support is nice. Comfort is too.

But my travel experiences have gifted me with an inner knowing that there is a wild feminine soul in me with no limitations.

So, I stayed in the fitting Isla Mujeres or “Island of Women” with the intention of sitting with the pain and sadness alone. One foot in front of the other, I set off with my backpack like a curly-haired turtle to the nearest hostel. I got a bed in a dormitory that reminded me of that Seinfeld episode when Kramer housed Cubans in dresser drawers. Uncomfortable? Yes.

Just the day before, my (now former) boyfriend and I spent the afternoon traversing the island in a golf cart searching for rentals as I considered staying for a month in solitude. But there was nothing in my budget, especially after I left my debit card in an ATM…

Then, just two hours after he left, I got a Facebook message from someone offering me a studio–$300 for the month, seaside, comfy king-sized bed, fully-equipped kitchen (with a blender for superfood smoothies), and WiFi. Exactly what I wanted.

I would spend one night in the dresser drawer and then head to my new sanctuary.

I met a few other cool souls in the dresser; I was meant to sleep there. Without realizing it, I finally gained the confidence to employ my French with the goofy old dude from Bordeaux who did not speak a bit of English. I met a fellow social worker from Canada. And I befriended a young Israeli man going through some struggles and we quickly learned that we share a common thread of some pretty heavy history with our mothers.

But travelers sometimes just come into your life for a moment and then as quickly as you connect, they are gone. I headed off to my new haven the next day to write.

Truth be told, it has taken me FOREVER to launch my site. And here I am, inspired and writing. The creative juices are flowing. I have now accomplished more in two days than I have in nine months. True story.

So, what’s with the title of this blog?

It is not meant to suggest that my relationship epitomized the characters in Milan Kundera’s postmodern writings of The Unbearable Lightness of Being…well, I don’t know…there are whispers of such resemblances.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the novel, Kundera addresses Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of eternal recurrence, which posited that all events of the universe have already occurred and will recur infinitely, in turn, adding a “heaviness” to the decisions we make that give meaning to our lives. Nietzsche believed “heaviness” could be a burden or blessing. Kundera challenged this notion suggesting that each individual has one linear life to live, which occurs one time only and creates a “lightness” of being. This lightness places less weight on the choices we make in life because if there is no cyclical nature to life then, “There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison.”

One of the main characters in the novel, Tomas, takes a two-year holiday from practicing medicine. At first, he is excited by the freedom of responsibility, but after some time he discovers that that is as much time as he can spend with such “lightness”.

My connection to Kundera’s work is multifaceted in this moment, but I sense that on the contrary to Tomas’ feeling of lightness, my travels that have been filled with weight and meaning for some time. But I have begun to see they are now feeling light. That lightness is moving me forward in two opposing directions. On one hand, I embrace the lightness I see and have released the weight of the “right” decisions. On the other hand, I need to see meaningful weight in my life, which is what has propelled me forward into sharing my story and offering with the world.

I am heavy and light. Being in this divine, cozy space overlooking the sea, I get to be reflective today. I get to be me!