Lessons learned in the mud.

Mud! My dear friend and professional mentor Jo Burk told the speech pathologists on her staff "you can do  speech therapy with mud". This meaning of course that the theme or materials do not matter so much as the techniques used in the intervention provided.
So what have I learned about mud on this walk?
The mud I have encountered has primarily been on uphill or downhill sections, and sometimes we have encountered the "steep and deep". Leslie calls it monkey mud, it's sticky and sucks your shoes right off your feet.
Leslie's balance is a little off kilter, much like mine. Mud is particularly challenging for her and the slippery stuff has pulled her down into it more than once.
To get through the mud you need to get a grip. Decent shoes help a lot but moreover you have to take charge and handle the mud in your life. There is no avoiding it so face it, you have to go through. Be level headed and not all out of control.
When taking charge you have to forge ahead, don't spin your wheels in the mud. Reach out those trekking poles and attack that muddy path. Be aggressive and strong.
Carrying the mud around with you adds weight, a lot of weight. On the Camino and in life no one needs extra baggage. Why do we carry so much! Wash the mud off at the earliest opportunity. Don't carry it on.
If you fall in the mud, laugh at yourself. Getting angry uses so much energy, and you need lots of positive energy to wade through the mud. With laughter you charge your batteries and bolster your spirits.
Sometimes when you are down in the mud, others try to pick you up. Plan the rescue well.
If you are not careful you will pull the rescuers right down with you. They are rescuers, not victims.
We are going to get rid of some mud today, as we rest in Nogoro France. We will wash our clothes. My boots are going to get a good scrubbing too. We will feel as if our burdens are lightened.
Until the next time we encounter mud.

Lessons learned in the mud.

Mud! My dear friend and professional mentor Jo Burk told the speech pathologists on her staff "you can do  speech therapy with mud". This meaning of course that the theme or materials do not matter so much as the techniques used in the intervention provided.
So what have I learned about mud on this walk?
The mud I have encountered has primarily been on uphill or downhill sections, and sometimes we have encountered the "steep and deep". Leslie calls it monkey mud, it's sticky and sucks your shoes right off your feet.
Leslie's balance is a little off kilter, much like mine. Mud is particularly challenging for her and the slippery stuff has pulled her down into it more than once.
To get through the mud you need to get a grip. Decent shoes help a lot but moreover you have to take charge and handle the mud in your life. There is no avoiding it so face it, you have to go through. Be level headed and not all out of control.
When taking charge you have to forge ahead, don't spin your wheels in the mud. Reach out those trekking poles and attack that muddy path. Be aggressive and strong.
Carrying the mud around with you adds weight, a lot of weight. On the Camino and in life no one needs extra baggage. Why do we carry so much! Wash the mud off at the earliest opportunity. Don't carry it on.
If you fall in the mud, laugh at yourself. Getting angry uses so much energy, and you need lots of positive energy to wade through the mud. With laughter you charge your batteries and bolster your spirits.
Sometimes when you are down in the mud, others try to pick you up. Plan the rescue well.
If you are not careful you will pull the rescuers right down with you. They are rescuers, not victims.
We are going to get rid of some mud today, as we rest in Nogoro France. We will wash our clothes. My boots are going to get a good scrubbing too. We will feel as if our burdens are lightened.
Until the next time we encounter mud.

When others walk away...

Yesterday I buzzed around Tri Cities, literally with joy and excitement.  Even though I was getting lost while running errands, which is frustrating, I knew what was coming next.  Brandi was home and I was headed to see her!  And little did I know, Abi (her daughter) was there too!!

Friends walk in and out of our lives.  Some walk next to you, or near you, or in front of you or behind you...nevertheless in close proximity for hundreds of miles at a time. As much as it seems you should, you never get to know them. Others share a day's walk and impact your life for ever.

 Although Brandi is a good 15 years younger, and I don't think I  have even walked around the block with her, it feels as if we have  much in common. And yet, if pressed to tell what those commonalities were, I might have to pause and reflect a bit.

I remember the day I met Brandi.  I was making an information booth at the  community aquatic center for the youth swim club. There she was, at the counter, advocating (err arguing but in a nice sort of way) with the pool manager about something or other.  She came over to see what was going on in my little corner of the swim club parent world. And somehow we became friends.

Brandi is an artist.  Her personality matches the flair of her paintings; vivid colors painted on plywood, most often over old ledgers, manuscripts, books (I have one painted on pages from the Pilgrim's Progress) and pages from old hymnals.  Paintings this bright, based on traditions and beliefs strong in her soul...that's Brandi Dayton.  Bright. Vivid.  Alive. Grounded.

Brandi is the type of friend you sit next to on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, sipping a beverage and catching up on the news.  Its like we just saw each other yesterday.  She gives her honest opinion on the latest events in my life.  Sometimes that honest view from a friend can be cutting, yet Brandi knows how to say what must be said so that I laugh and cry at truths revealed.  I leave her home, brightened. I don't walk to my car and drive away.  I drive on to what's next in life's agenda. Our lives travel together along and through "time". .. like in a parallel universe. It all starts      up again next time we meet.

One friend walked next to me day in day out, yet not close enough to hear my soul speak.  Another strolled into my heart and now hangs out there with no intentions.  She just "stays".  Time, space and distance don't matter.  I always feel that connection. Another shared a few days walk and a lot of wine, connecting through a language barrier to discover we had such similar life experiences  although living 10,000 miles away from each other.  Surprised to see her one more time as I was about to enter the courtyard at the Cathedral in Santiago,  I gave her my  favorite "thing",  a piece of my identity on The Way, my bright pink hat (now faded from 30 days on the Camino). "You have walked a long way without a hat, I hope this does you well on the rest of your walk."..."I think of the words you say and I remember and I think of them more and soon I understand their meaning, your meaning". 
One other companion, when her time to walk with me was through, walked away. Not "walked on" but "walked away" that is different. I am stuck in the place I last saw her as if by her walking away I cannot walk beyond.

I can't walk away.  Others can and it is a healthy thing to do, sometimes.  I walk on.

When others walk away...

Yesterday I buzzed around Tri Cities, literally with joy and excitement.  Even though I was getting lost while running errands, which is frustrating, I knew what was coming next.  Brandi was home and I was headed to see her!  And little did I know, Abi (her daughter) was there too!!

Friends walk in and out of our lives.  Some walk next to you, or near you, or in front of you or behind you...nevertheless in close proximity for hundreds of miles at a time. As much as it seems you should, you never get to know them. Others share a day's walk and impact your life for ever.

 Although Brandi is a good 15 years younger, and I don't think I  have even walked around the block with her, it feels as if we have  much in common. And yet, if pressed to tell what those commonalities were, I might have to pause and reflect a bit.

I remember the day I met Brandi.  I was making an information booth at the  community aquatic center for the youth swim club. There she was, at the counter, advocating (err arguing but in a nice sort of way) with the pool manager about something or other.  She came over to see what was going on in my little corner of the swim club parent world. And somehow we became friends.

Brandi is an artist.  Her personality matches the flair of her paintings; vivid colors painted on plywood, most often over old ledgers, manuscripts, books (I have one painted on pages from the Pilgrim's Progress) and pages from old hymnals.  Paintings this bright, based on traditions and beliefs strong in her soul...that's Brandi Dayton.  Bright. Vivid.  Alive. Grounded.

Brandi is the type of friend you sit next to on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, sipping a beverage and catching up on the news.  Its like we just saw each other yesterday.  She gives her honest opinion on the latest events in my life.  Sometimes that honest view from a friend can be cutting, yet Brandi knows how to say what must be said so that I laugh and cry at truths revealed.  I leave her home, brightened. I don't walk to my car and drive away.  I drive on to what's next in life's agenda. Our lives travel together along and through "time". .. like in a parallel universe. It all starts      up again next time we meet.

One friend walked next to me day in day out, yet not close enough to hear my soul speak.  Another strolled into my heart and now hangs out there with no intentions.  She just "stays".  Time, space and distance don't matter.  I always feel that connection. Another shared a few days walk and a lot of wine, connecting through a language barrier to discover we had such similar life experiences  although living 10,000 miles away from each other.  Surprised to see her one more time as I was about to enter the courtyard at the Cathedral in Santiago,  I gave her my  favorite "thing",  a piece of my identity on The Way, my bright pink hat (now faded from 30 days on the Camino). "You have walked a long way without a hat, I hope this does you well on the rest of your walk."..."I think of the words you say and I remember and I think of them more and soon I understand their meaning, your meaning". 
One other companion, when her time to walk with me was through, walked away. Not "walked on" but "walked away" that is different. I am stuck in the place I last saw her as if by her walking away I cannot walk beyond.

I can't walk away.  Others can and it is a healthy thing to do, sometimes.  I walk on.