Reflections on Body, Mind & Spirit: The Camino Endures
- Lisa Schaffer
- Sep 3
- 5 min read
A reflection from my friend and travel companion, Maggie Christensen.
For the past few newsletters I have made mention of the people I walked the Camino de Santiago with this past May. I’m excited to share this month’s reflection with you written by my friend and one who invited me to walk the Camino, Maggie Christensen. Many thanks to her, she is a true light in our world. You will get a taste of that light by the beautiful words she has woven. Without further ado, here is Maggie’s experience upon the Camino!
The Camino Endures
In her previous posts, Lisa has thoughtfully considered the physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of our Camino, the pilgrimage walk in northwest Spain, which we accomplished in May 2025. I’m grateful for the opportunity to reflect here on my Camino, now that we’re three months out.
Although I am nowhere near Lisa’s physical condition (is anyone, really?!), my walking in early spring (covering distances 5-8 miles more regularly than my usual 2-3 miles and adding more hills, including a pack hike in Iowa’s Loess Hills near Omaha) helped prepare me for the physical aspects of the Camino. By the time we were leaving I felt confident I could accomplish 10-12 miles per day for seven days in a row, especially since we were not racing and would take breaks along the way. We had read that our Sarria to Santiago segment of the French Way was “much easier terrain” than other portions. In retrospect, these writers were comparing our segment to hiking the Pyrenees mountains on the Spanish/French border! I did not expect the steep hills we encountered mile after mile, but I was able to accomplish them – despite the blisters – and those “breath-taking” vistas were well worth it. I carried plenty of water and rested well at night, and the Spanish food (especially the chocolate croissants and the “tortillas” aka potato frittatas) provided sustenance and joy.
The mental and spiritual aspects of the Camino are far more complex – and long-lasting. We’ve all heard about the benefits of “living in the present moment,” but the Camino forces you to do so, for sustained amounts of time, and I think this is one of the reasons so many folks are moved by the Camino experience. Once you get started, you must watch your step on the stony or muddy path, or pay attention to the people ahead of or behind you. You must get up that hill – one way or another – and then you must descend that steep slope, which is often more difficult than going uphill. One step after another. Step by step, you fall into a rhythm, sometimes with the crunch of your feet on the path, other times with your breath. Sometimes a song emerges from that rhythm, or a repetitive prayer, or even a word, which propels you forward. Sometimes my personal intentions were at the forefront; sometimes I didn’t “think” anything. Eventually I found that the less I tried to “focus,” the more open I was to my surroundings in the moment: the rows of eucalyptus trees, the smell of the wet grass, the pattern of the ancient rock wall, the snails on the wet fence, the splendor of the hydrangeas or fields of lavender, the image of the faraway village that looked like a fairy tale.
Eventually, the focus on the present moment, my removal from my daily busy-ness and cares of the world, provided clarity. I began to see the Divine at work in small and intimate ways. I was more open to that thin threshold – that liminal space – between the physical and spiritual world. I want to be clear: this experience was not magic or mystical; instead, it was me recognizing and paying attention to the Divine that is always present. In the book of Ecclesiastes, the writer calls everything in life (work, pleasure, wisdom) “meaningless,” “futile” or “vain” without God. Another translation of the Hebrew word hebel (meaning “vapor” or “breath”) can be “transient” or “impermanent,” a reminder that life is temporary, bringing into relief the smallest of details from the here and now. As I walked the Camino, God became ever-present in more intimate ways: in nature, in others, in myself.
Looking back, the preparation for the Camino now seems instructive in ways I hadn’t considered. I spent an inordinate amount of time on the “stuff” – what to bring, what to leave behind. Since we planned to carry our packs, every pound – no, every ounce – counted. I had never before been so hyper-focused on the weight of one shirt or pair of shorts compared to another; I used my food scale to weigh everything, took disposable contact lenses so I didn’t have to carry solution, bought concentrated shampoo/cream rinse in half-dollar sized tins, agonized over how many socks I actually needed. Most of my packing process involved removing more and more items, peeling away layers until I was down to only what I thought was absolutely essential.
Interestingly, this “laying bare,” this discovery of what is essential, has been a great lesson for living life more generally. We see this most often in times of crisis (for example a health emergency or a power outage), when we are snapped out of our everyday worlds and forced to consider only what is most essential. Having enough water or communicating with a loved one becomes vastly more important than the size of our bank account or the latest social media trends. When Jesus sent his disciples out on the road to spread his message, he explicitly commanded them to not take anything with them, no bag, no bread, no extra tunic (how did they survive without moleskin?!). I wonder if this is because he wanted them to stay focused on the essentials. In addition, he was teaching them (and us) to trust. When you don’t have all your “stuff” with you, you are forced to trust. Trust others, and trust that God will provide. This is not generally a comfortable posture for humans: we want to feel independent, we want to feel like we are in control.
In one of her earlier posts Lisa mentioned how frequently we heard the expression “The Camino will provide,” and we experienced countless examples of this truth. We each carry countless stories of people or places we encountered "by chance" along the way, most notably the kindness of strangers, the appearance of a much-needed oasis, a lucky delay, or the timing of a storm just after we found our way into our lodging. One begins to recognize these Camino moments as something more than simply coincidence or good luck. The takeaway and joy for me three months after returning from the Camino is to be able to view our everyday “real” world with different eyes, looking for those moments when I see God providing what we need (people, interactions, and moments of beauty or joy). Even if you do not walk the Camino, I encourage you to look for these moments every day.
Questions to reflect upon
How would your life change if you focused only on the essentials each day?
How do you experience the divine each day, and what does this have to do with your well-being?
I told you this was a beautiful reflection! Thanks again Maggie for sharing.
To your reflection and health,
Lisa Schaffer
Do you have a friend that would benefit from this information?
***Please forward it to them!***
See my last newsletter Body, Mind & Spirit…
Thank you, Maggie, for this beautiful and thoughtful reflection! Thank you, Lisa, for sharing it in your newsletter!