The following is a talk I gave today at the First Presbyterian Church in Lovington, New Mexico. It’s a long wall of text, so power through it, eh?
Ellen told me that I have to keep this short, that I could not ramble on for an hour like I did last time. So hopefully I’ll stick to this document and not stray too far from the message I’m trying to impart. I’ve had about two months to pen this – naturally, I waited until the last minute.
Earlier this year, after what seemed less than a month of planning and forethought, I embarked upon my second international solo journey. Yes, I had certainly kicked the idea around many a time afore, but it wasn’t until late January that I decided – impulsively – that I needed to once more take to the road and see the world as only a lonesome pilgrim can.
On Being a Self-Hating Catholic and Ernest Hemingwannabe
Our story continues in which our Hero is in the midst of regaling his Catholic comrades with a tale of woe and heartache, a yarn of mental deprivations and emotional turmoil, a timeless speech of impeccable rhetoric and colorful banter, this is, dear reader, Part the Second of the Limping Along series.
Yeah, it’ll be a series. Deal wid it.
For those of you first tuning in, might I recommend you give Limping Along (Part I) a read afore you turn your sights upon this. Backstory is always important, you understand.
For the rest of you lot, this next passage continues where I left off: in the midst of giving my testimony to my Focus Mission Group. It’s about as bitchin’ as it sounds.
Gentlemen, ready your canes and adjust your monocles. Maidens fair, contain thy selves and resist the vapors. In the words of Gork (and possibly Mork) ‘ere we go!
Forgive the lack of updates. As you recall, I was bound for Chile where our mission group had absolutely no Wi-Fi possibilities. Indeed, one of the stipulations for this trip was a media fast, if you will, that dissuaded me from even firing up my phone. There’s your lack of updates for ya.
But I’m back in the States, in the midst of packing up my belongings, trying to bang out a post in good order.
I have a lot on my mind as of late, and many of these thoughts are swirling about, trying to take shape in the form of words on a page. The writer’s conundrum – how do you write out just one of these many, varied thoughts? It’s like trying to catch the dust floating about in a sunny window: you can clearly see everything, but you cannot quite grasp those motes.
The following passage is based upon a testimony I had to give to the group. Although I had an outline of what I had wanted to say, I ended up firing from the hip and just rolling with it. If you’ve ever heard me speak before, you know I’m prone to word vomit – I’m much better at writing out my scattered thoughts than saying them aloud. Might not be the exact words I used when speaking, but the story is the same. Part II will follow shortly after.
Enjoy this passage about my struggle with faith, the absurdity of reality, the desire to help others at my own expense, and the need to belong.
You will see that well I have mentioned a few times in previous posts. I added a total of four layers to it; makes it less of a trip hazard. Not bad for having never done anything remotely close to bricklaying, eh? Apart from working with the animals (and slaughtering a few of them) this was my proudest moment at the Wwoof site. Well said (get it? well said??)
But as you know, if you’ve been following along, my time Wwoofing has come to an end and I once more find myself upon the road with few cares and little aim – the way I like it. I tossed around the idea of walking from Mont-St-Michel towards Santiago, kicked about the notion to spend some time in Paris, even debated the merits of just Wwoofing across France and postponing Santiago in entirety.
There are two things I think I love far more than anything else I’ve encountered on this globe: travel and writing. And that’s what the purpose of this blog serves – to document and comment upon my travels for the next few months.
My mother once described me (in front of her class, no less) as impetuous, brash, and off-color. She certainly isn’t wrong in that regard for this journey to Europe and South America was planned and purchased in less than a fortnight with little regard given to logistics, the effects of my absence from home, or any other thought really. I tend to follow my heart, and if I wish to do something, by Jove I’ll do it.
Which brings us here, to Brunomad, and the ensuing adventures we’re to have together as I traverse Europe to once again visit that holy city of Santiago de Compostella. Ah, yes, glorious Camino.
After a brief rendezvous in Illinois to attend the Gathering of Pilgrims, I will sojourn to Dublin, Ireland to make my offerings to the patron saint of Ireland, Lord Guinness. In a convenient stroke of luck, some bloke decided to put the cathedral to Saint James right across the street from the Guinness brewery! After making my devotions along the Wicklow Way, it’s a short ferry ride over to my beloved France where, gods willing, I will reunite with some old comrades, walk her beautiful coastline, and embrace life the way man was meant to: by living it.
Following this, I’ll walk the Camino del Norte route to Santiago, get my credencial, then book it to Muxia (Finisterra is highly overrated) before catching a bus to Lisbon and flying to Miami. In Miami, I’ll rendezvous with my FOCUS group before completing my mission trip in Santiago de Chile for several weeks.
And after that, sheesh, I will get over to Cancun, Mexico for my sister’s long-awaited wedding. Gods willing, I will get to visit Cuba too – big plans, big plans.
And the entire time? Why, I hope to be documenting the sights, the people, the emotions, the whole shebang along the Way.
If this sounds like your mug of mead, then follow along as this digital nomad tackles the world once more.