Needing next to nothing
“Passport. Phone. Shoes.”
This is my mantra for uncertain moments on the Camino de Santiago. It’s easy to become a little hypnotized from taking step after step, and—though walking is the most grounding activity one can do—occasionally lose track of where I am in time and space.
To recenter and assure myself that all is well, I say “phone,” patting the pants pocket where I’d zipped the little guy. I say, “passport,” recalling the moment that morning or at the last coffee stop, when I’d re-stowed the purse that holds it in the main compartment of my pack. Then there’s the easy win: “shoes,” without which I wouldn’t be walking and, though it’s not impossible, are pretty difficult to lose.
These three items are literally all I need on this walk. Clothes are good too, but like shoes, it’s unlikely I’ll be anywhere without them. Water, snacks, layers, hat, poles, glasses… also great to have. But the essence of necessity has come to be represented, for me, by those three objects.
There likely would have been more than three before phones began serving as map, credit card, and plane ticket. Even my technologically reluctant self is grateful for that advancement. (And one of these days I’ll tell you how I left my phone in the end stall of a Munich airport bathroom on a layover, and many panicked minutes later, found it exactly where I left it.)
But even phones can be reacquired. Even passports. It’s a challenge, but it can be done—has been done. Everything else can be easily found, borrowed, purchased or Macgyvered. Pilgrims are generous, resourceful folk, and the Camino is set up to care for those pilgrims. So at worst, sans stuff, we’re in for some miles of stress and discomfort. Honestly, this happens even when we have everything we could possibly think to need on our person.
At home, it’s an even looser, more freeing mantra: phone, house key, shoes. If I’m driving to a hiking trail, car key and driver’s license are also tucked somewhere. If I forget my phone, ah well. Water’s good if it’s a longer walk, but I usually know where the water stops are on a given route, or I can ask. I can ask for more than that if I need. Kind people abound here too.
The stuff we need to be still
This might be on my mind because my husband and I are about to head out for a long weekend away, and my god, the piles! The lists! So much feels essential for comfort in our already well appointed airbnb. All the snacks, and the extra clothes, and the books, and the devices (and their chargers), and…
It’s when we’re not moving that we seem to really need all the stuff. Isn’t that interesting? Maybe that’s one of the reasons that walking is one of the best things we can do. Maybe that’s why some argue that humans lost the plot (ya know, for the first time) when we stopped being nomads. Traveling on foot forces us to know what is essential. Anything extra means extra weight—and deciding whether we’re up to bearing it.
Maybe staying put necessitates so much stuff because it is inherently uncomfortable. When stationary, we are sitting ducks for all the unhelpful thoughts, fears, feels. When in motion this stuff still arises, but it moves through more quickly, efficiently. Millenia ago we were sitting ducks for the actual enemies that our inner parts now mimic—or try to protect us from. Staying put naturally has us fragment in these ways, perhaps, and so perhaps we need more things around us to help us feel held together. Maybe it’s why sitting meditation developed … we’ve needed to train our minds to handle the invisible assault that finds us more easily when we’re stationary. Maybe it’s not so much about getting still as learning to deal with being still.
Paring down to what is essential
Anywho. Hand-waving theories aside, moving has always been my preferred way of stilling the mind. The moments of necessary stillness to eat and rest are a lot quieter after a few hours or day of walking.
Also, the joy of only needing three things—and holding even that need loosely—feels particularly relevant right now, at this moment in our evolution, when I and so many others are looking to connect with that central thing, with our knowing, with our medicine, with our light.
A prayer I’ve been saying lately is “may all that isn’t essence fall away,” and it’s been really interesting to see what’s been happening in response. (TLDR: I’m way happier.)
Phone. Passport. Shoes.
Soul.
Walk on friends.
