I’m tempted to boast that in the last week, we’ve walked 50 miles through Tuscany. In fact, we have, and for the most part, it’s been wonderful, with beautiful views, comfortable accommodations, yummy food and wine, perfect weather and lots of time in nature, which I love.
But what about the pilgrimage part? What have I learned from walking for seven consecutive days from town to town? First I’m grateful that we have the ability to make the walk, that we have time away from earning a living, and that we have the physical and mental health to challenge ourselves in this way. I’m glad that we are walking because we want to, not because we have no home, because we are refugees, or displaced people.
For us, pilgrimage has been a privilege. We have been welcomed wherever we have wandered. People along the route have been friendly and helpful. In a few places, pilgrimage has afforded us discounted admission or a free bus ride.
The first two days were the hardest, the farthest, the biggest hills. Now we are accustomed to waking up, packing up, fueling up and hitting the road. The paths are well marked, and we have traveled place to place in daylight, arriving in time for afternoon coffee, beer, wine or spritz.
Walking has taught me to be more patient, to take my time, to appreciate the journey as much as the destination. It has helped me appreciate what my body can still do at 64 and 360-plus days. It has made me think about my feet and all the places they have taken me, what a privilege it is to be able to walk, despite blisters and sore ankles.
Yes, we’ve been in many churches along the way, but being outside every day has felt like one big church of trees and rivers, sun and shade, birdsong and agriculture, clay and volcanic lava under foot, and persistent annoying mosquitos.
We’ve walked with intention and attention. Walking makes the days longer, time slows down on foot. You can’t rush or hurry. It takes as much time as it takes to arrive to your destination. We’ve walked all week for our friend Patrick, who is dying, lit candles in every church, prayed in our unreligious way for him and Randy and Alex. Our hearts are heavy but also full. We are tired but also wide awake.
We’ve talked a lot about death along the way, and have often felt the presence of Dante Alighieri, who walked these same paths after he was banished from his home in Florence, which led him to write his allegory about purgatory, hell and paradise. One can choose to live in purgatory or hell, or live for the promise of paradise after death. I prefer to live in paradise now, to make every day as close to paradise as possible. I wish that for you, too, and may peace be with you on your journey.
