Nothing is wasted.

Reflections on the Inner Camino House

When I communed with teenagers daily in my Dean of Students role, I collected a few catchy mantras that, if used sparingly and with conviction, could help shift a disaster narrative into a slightly less catastrophic one. Bad grades, break-ups, even failed driver tests could be mitigated to a degree with a deep listen and a subtle shift of the frame.

“Nothing is wasted” became a go-to pick-me-up because when you’re down in a ditch it’s helpful to find something positive about it. Our biological brains are wired to weave meaning from what we wrestle with and what’s a good story without a few rough patches? Gleaning a takeaway or two from a tough circumstance makes it a little easier to carry on.

My own no-longer-teen children refer to my tendency to seek not just the silver-lining but the gold-plated version as “bright-siding” and it can annoy the heck out of them. But I once asked them if they wished I would respond with less glass-half-full optimism and both rapidly assured me they’ve come to rely on my outlook when things go awry.

I’ve been walking on the Camino de Santiago with my niece and nephew who haven’t had time to tire of my mantras (yet). So when we peeled ourselves out of bed before sunrise and hiked through three towns before realizing we’d missed the one open breakfast spot, I tried to keep our hot and hungry spirits up with a little bright-siding. An uninterrupted sunrise! The steepest hill behind us! A rare donkey-sighting in the middle of the road that might not have occurred if we’d stopped!

As we entered the fourth tiny medieval village, we noticed an unobstrusive sign pointing behind the church square reading: “Inner Camino House - a place to rest, reflect, connect and share.” Danny rushed out to greet us with a wave and ushered us into what turned out to be his own home. A bountiful spread of fresh fruits and vegetables, breads, cheeses and even an espresso machine were laid out in his kitchen. He invited us to help ourselves to whatever we liked, asking simply that we treat his home like our own and wash our own dishes. Then he sat down with a group of us from Ireland, Germany, Norway, and the Netherlands as we gratefully filled our empty stomachs while he answered our questions about how the Inner Camino house came to be only 3 weeks before we hungrily passed by.

Danny explained how he and his partner had followed an inner call to put down roots on the Camino, the place where they’d first met. He seemed passionate about the collision of two worlds that intersect along the Way; the steps you physically take and the inner dialogue that accompanies them. My interior chatter had been chiding me for hiking unprepared - we’d barely filled our water bottles that morning and the temps were rising fast. I’d hoped out loud that the “trail would provide” while inwardly wondering if the legendary “Camino magic” had dwindled to extinction.

But sitting with Danny filled us up in two ways. His intentional generosity reminded us of how creatively kind humans can be to strangers, restoring my faith that our lives are meant to overlap with other lives. More pointedly, his oasis was full of reflection cards he’d written himself and scattered around the house, drawing us out of our “grumpy hangry” state and popping us into a “grateful happy” one.

If we hadn’t been running on empty, we wouldn’t have been so filled up. Our planning oversight wasn’t wasted, instead it supercharged our appreciation and awareness of why we were even doing the walk in the first place. So much in my own life has felt out of my control these past few years, as I’ve lived from scan to scan. Happening upon the Inner Camino House reminded me that when my own little bit of agency meets up with other souls’ little bits of agency, meaningful moments occur. Danny set out to make life gentler and grander for whoever crossed his path that day, which he did. He told us that’s his plan for as long as he’s able.

I wanted to give myself time to walk with my late brother’s children, now young adults about to exercise their own agency in the world, and to get to know them in the way that only on-the-ground shared experiences allow. I worried about taking time off from my outer work back home, but I wouldn’t trade the inner work we shared of conversation and laughter for anything. Even our mishaps became memories, not a single experience has been wasted.

On the other side of this journey, I hope to journal more about what keeps my curiosity alive inside even when the outside world discourages me. As Dan Harris likes to say on his podcast 10% Happier there’s a “geo-political case” for tending to our inner mind-state so that we can approach our work in the world with more energy, calm and clarity. Young adult bones and old adult bones need the company and kindness of each other to keep going - we’re all in this together. And lucky for me, making friends with the obstacles in my path isn’t always as daunting as it seems.