Catholic Herald 11.01.13
If Life is hard, you may need to walk to Rome
It was the morning of July 12 2011. I left Canterbury Cathedral in the pouring rain, with my belongings on my back and a shepherd’s crook in my hand. I was off on a pilgrimage to Rome along the Via Francigena, a route tracing the stages recorded by the 10th- century Archbishop of Canterbury, Sigeric, on his return from Rome.
I walked alone through England, France, Switzerland and Italy. Crossing the Alps over the Great St Bernard pass at 8,000 feet and the Apennines over the Cissa pass at 4,000 feet. It took 82 days in total. For the first 30 it rained every single day. I would walk on average seven hours a day, covering between 15 and 22 miles. My longest day was 26 miles and shortest nine miles. I had six rest days in total, met very few other pilgrims, kept my vow of not contacting friends and struggled endlessly not speaking a foreign language.
I was on a self-indulgent pilgrimage to work out a journey for my life ongoing. I chose the Via Francigena because it was not as popular as other pilgrim routes such as the Camino de Santiago and I wanted to be alone.
To be able to do something in a very similar way to how it has always been done – one foot in front of the other with your belongings on your back – is rare in our world, where the advances in technology make day to day processes supposedly easier and easier. Walking is one of the few things you can do without concentrating. Therefore the mind is free to work overtime at finding the answer to difficult questions. Somehow the process of thinking and reflecting is aided by the motion, simplicity and pace of walking. The legs become like a metronome and settle the thoughts to an even pace so as they can become clear and ordered. Two things are made startlingly clear by this activity. First, walking hour after hour is exhausting and takes it’s toll on one’s soles. Secondly, thinking things through clearly and establishing clear answers or paths to follow takes a very long time. Suddenly the pilgrim is battling against the pain, exhaustion and monotony of walking hour upon hour, day after day, as well as the need to keep the simple activity of walking going long enough to come to some conclusions.
Unlike on bicycle or horse back there is no release from walking. You can’t freewheel downhill or sit down and keep moving forward. And unlike running, where you become so exhausted you just have to stop, it is unlikely that any determined person reaches a point in walking when they cannot put one foot in front of the other. Yet I almost reached defeat when lost in the mountains. I was so utterly exhausted I had to link my hands under each knee alternately and lift my legs one at a time in front of each other. Without doing this I was incapable of lifting my foot high enough to keep climbing at such a steep angle. I drew in breaths so deep my throat hurt and my skin stung with sweat. I stopped. My chest welled up with fear and I just did not know if I could go on any more.
As the pilgrimage progresses and the pain of the feet and the mental struggles of the mind persist, the vulnerable pilgrim begins to open themselves up to a wonderful side of life, which the routine, anxiousness and impatience of modern life shuts out. The more arduous the journey becomes, mentally and physically, the greater need the pilgrim has to believe that something outside of themselves is going to get them to Rome, the shrine they set out for. By believing in something greater than yourself it helps to hand over the anxiousness caused by the pain of the feet to someone else and to ask for guidance and help in searching for answers to questions. This belief is validated in the extraordinary coincidences which happen along the way. The kindness of people very early on, ushering me into their house to give me coffee, insisting on finding me somewhere to sleep and giving me smiles and hugs when I craved human contact, gave me confidence to trust others along the way and not to judge them with a suspicious eye.
I listened to my conscience and kept my wits about me but, by not judging others, I saw a wonderful side of human nature that came for free and in abundance. All I had to do was to give generously in smiles and manners on both the good days and the bad days.
I was beginning to realise this journey was not about getting to Rome. Rome was where it would end, if I got there, but this reward would only come if I listened and learned on the way. There were many times ahead when I gave myself the option of going home and many, many days I lost belief in reaching Rome. But every night I packed my bag and every morning I walked on.
It is hard to justify why the simple act of walking day after day is so enriching until you go and do it. Time alone in thought is personal and will be interpreted by others in different ways. But all I can say is that the simple act of a pilgrimage, walking through foreign lands and relying on the good will of others and belief that it is worth continuing to your goal, will give you a reward beyond description but firmly instilled inside you forever more.
Back in London, where the pace of life is more often than not dictated from the outside rather than the inside, makes clear thought difficult at times.
There are two activities which make it easier, both proven as a consequence of walking to Rome. One is Mass. With a day off in Besançon I had to go to Mass. It is not that I expected to get an answer, but by being in church, where no one judges you, I can let everything go and give in to the depth of my feelings. I found that by the time Mass was over I felt a lot better than when it had started. For me, this process only happened during the service, sitting in a church when nothing is going on did not have the same intensity about it. The second activity is walking. Walking anywhere at anytime, the pace dictated by the speed of thought as if your legs are attached to mind not body. A pilgrimage combines the essence of these two activities as for some metaphysical reason a pilgrimage has a power from outside you which gets you through it and makes you view life in a very simple form where existence is given the importance it deserves and human fulfillment is recognisable.
If you need to feel better about life and be reminded that it is a gift, go and walk the path that thousands of others before you did.