
It is tempting to close out the story of our pilgrimage walk without addressing the dark moments, what Carl Jung would have called Shadow. It is in the shadows that we so often find rich and fertile lessons…
Pilgrimage, like life itself, inevitably brings us to moments of challenge and uncertainty. Bad things can happen, fears arise, and we find that in our quiet moments we come face to face with who we truly are….
Knowing that I have sensitive skin and am prone to sun problems and blisters and bad reactions to insects, I prepared almost hypochondriacally. I was prepared for just about anything, but the dampness of our first day caused a problem with my feet; by the end of the second day, it was clear that I was going to lose at least one toenail — but it also seemed clear that my pain was not going to cause permanent damage, so I chose to walk on…
Following the excitement of Thursday’s successful arrival, I spent Friday at the hospital getting emergency treatment and Saturday shopping for shoes that would accommodate my tender toes so that I could re-shoulder my pack and walk out of Chartres to catch the train that would whisk us back along the road we had walked, toward Paris and home.
Feeling vulnerable, I wondered if I had failed in my pilgrimage or (worse yet) in my quest for vitality. I had to come to terms with my own limits. In an exquisite moment of soul-searching, I realized that there was a way that I could look at my toes as an opportunity to accept the very blessing for which I had been praying. As I walked toward this cathedral that so beautifully honours the Divine Feminine, I had been asking that my own heart would be opened that I might finally learn to accept the love that so often I have not accepted as my birthright. Though I know it had always been on offer, as an adopted child I have always struggled to allow myself to be fully embraced by the abiding Love of the Mother.
As I shivered in my bare feet on the streets of Chartres, I heard myself apologizing yet again to the women who were helping me so selflessly. Turning a corner both literally and metaphorically, I suddenly realized that this was a perfect opportunity to accept an answer to my prayers. No one was begrudging me the time and assistance, no one was expecting me to be anything other than what I was. I was the only one who expected me to be a superwoman. Divine Love was present and on offer, in the guise of my companions… all I had to do was accept it.




And I want to mention another kind of support… trekking poles. Pure magic! I had never walked with poles before, but so many people had recommended them that I decided to give them a go, imagining myself with a traditional Pilgrim’s Staff. I was worried about losing my balance or tripping over my own feet if I got tired or hungry. Having heard that poles give a full body workout, I assumed one pulled oneself along with the poles, but what I found is that they sort of walk themselves, moving with the movements of my hip. I was enchanted by their companionship and rhythm.
Breakfast was fruit and a fresh baguette, eaten as we walked out of Maintenon, a charming village. Seeing our packs and scallop shells, an old woman rolled down her car window to call out Bon Journee, an act of true encouragement. At the edge of the village, we saw the first signpost to Chartres as we prepared to follow the road out across the fields. The wind was blowing hard — another natural element I had naively not anticipated.

We had arrived!
What a joy to wake to clearing skies and perfect walking temperatures! We walked out of Cernay la Ville and headed towards Rambouillet, greatly enjoying the prospects of flatter terrain and a drier day. Our morning’s walk lead us down out of the forested hills toward the broad fields that would mark the second half of our walk. We were definitely in the countryside as we walked from village to village, making welcome stops for coffee or baguettes or sandwiches as we went along.

Many thanks to Lisa for most of these pictures…. she must be fitter than I am because I wasn’t the least bit interested in my camera at this point. And she did so much to make our walk fun — here she is being one with nature!
We set out along the Rue St Jacques in the wee hours of the morning, well before Paris woke to the day. Our walk through the dark and deserted streets felt sacred. By dawn we were on the outskirts of the city; we had not wanted to stop even for coffee or a baguette as it would have meant breaking the strangely mystical silence of the morning. By 9:00 we had walked out of the Porte de Versailles and passed over the Paris Periphique. And the rain had started. Not heavy, just steady. We stopped midmorning to buy little goat cheese pastries which we ate while huddled under a railway bridge to get out of the rain. Early in the afternoon, we reached a lovely village, Jouy en Josas, where we found a little cafe serving lentils and grilled sausage — surely the most divine food in the world at that moment.
hills with fairly steep grades, in the rain, without pausing. When did I become capable of that? I hadn’t considered that we would really have to deal with inclement weather. A few spots of rain, perhaps, but not steady rain. And yet, it wasn’t a problem, at least not at that point. It was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again. The rain merely added to the rhythm of the walk.
Good friends, Giles and Christine Tournier, met us on the road into Cernay la Ville and took us out to dinner, giving us encouragement as well as sustenance. Giles has made this pilgrimage 13 times, so he knows both the road and its lessons!
Monday, 31 August 2009
The Rue Saint Jacques, with its history of pilgrimage, welcomed us with familiar pilgrim symbols. We dropped our packs at our hotel, then wandered through the Latin Quarter on our way to Notre Dame, the spiritual beginning of our pilgrimage. We lit candles to dedicate our journey to the Divine Feminine, appreciating the scallop shells and amazingly beautiful depictions of Mary.
Leaving the Notre Dame and its gawking tourists behind, we walked on, heading towards the Tower of St Jacques, the traditional gathering place for pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago. Here we marked the beginning of our physical journey, feeling the presence of the centuries of pilgrims who had gone before us. It was peaceful and quiet in the little square park, full of Parisians enjoying a few quiet moments in the late summer sun.
our heart journey, and another opportunity to light a candle for the journey ahead, with all its internal and external implications. This was my point of coming full circle, my return to the exact spot where I had made my decision to reclaim my vitality so that I could say yes to all that Life has to offer. In 15 months, I had made good on my promise, had lost the 100 pounds (7 stone in British parlance) of weight that buffered me from fully engaging with life; Iwas here to accept the challenge and invitation I had given myself.


We will be walking a traditional pilgrim route, an early stage of the famed Camino de Santiago de Compostela which winds its way from various points in Europe, gathering momentum as it crosses from France into Spain, and onwards to Santiago de Compostela. The road of St James, or the Milky Way as it is often known. The symbol of this pilgrimage is the scallop shell. Today, as in the Middle Ages, thousands of people walk the route each year, guided by a series of emblems which mark the route and point the way. Our feet will be joining their footprints.
I tend to see life as a Hero’s Journey. For many years I taught a class on Myths, Dreams and Symbols at Sonoma State University, using texts by Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung. Over time, it has become second nature for me to look at life symbolically, and my weight loss and quest for vitality has been a Hero’s Journey of epic proportions. This has been one of the hardest things I have ever done, not because of the dieting, but because of the inner work I have done to support it. I have had to become a new person, not only in my approach to food and exercise, but in how I think of myself and how I relate to the world.


