It is a wonderful but strenuous journey; Pick your partner wisely

 

I didn’t pick my partner for The Camino, my partner picked me. Anne is a neighbor and a friend. Her husband was newly retired from a successful banking career and planned an adventure to mark this milestone in his life. He set off on a bike ride across America leaving Anne alone with time to fill however she chose.  She decided that she too wanted the chance to recognize what this life transition would mean, and decided on a camino pilgrimage. I was thrilled when she invited me to join her.

 

It was a serendipitous opportunity, one I hadn’t seen coming. I knew a bit about The Camino because my brother and his wife had walked The Original Path of St. James, the most well known Camino path, a year earlier to mark their own retirement. I’d seen the movie “The Way” (the story of a bereaved father finishing his son’s pilgrimage) and I’d even read a pilgrim’s blog or two. I knew in advance a little about what the journey would entail, but not much because I’d never experienced anything like it before. It’s kind of like a marriage; You see a lot of other people in one, but until you experience your own, you never really understand what it will be like for you.

 

I never worried about having Anne as a walking partner. I am blessed with  wonderful girlfriends, several of whom I can’t imagine living without, and of all of them, Anne may be my closest match. She is a longtime friend; I’ve known her for twenty-six years, and in the past eight especially, our friendship has only deepened. We are the same age, and share similar interests, spiritual paths, fitness levels, and senses of humor. We have that intangible chemistry that leads us to live life with an incredibly similar cadence and rhythm. We appreciate each other's strengths and we don’t take each other’s flaws personally. We laugh with, and at each other a lot! 

 

All of this is important on any journey, but particularly one that requires all that The Camino required of us. We had to work with each other to find our way. We had to intuitively understand when to take space and walk in silence. We had to listen well to one another without offering advice as we processed our insights, and we had to honor each-other’s physical challenges with a sense of humor that didn’t leave either of us feeling weak or foolish. We even had to feel comfortable enough with one another to lose all sense of modesty; When we’d arrive at our room at the end of a long, humid day covered in our blotchy heat rashes we needed the freedom to strip down and find relief from that day’s trail. Who wants to have to “cover-up” either literally, or figuratively, at home? Most importantly we had to move at the same rhythm and pace. We talked about how uncomfortable it would have been if we had not had the freedom to walk in a way that was natural and comfortable for us all day. Adjusting one’s pace (again, both literally and figuratively) for a partner is possible, and even necessary at times, but on a journey this long it would certainly be stressful if required every step of the way. 

 

It occurred to me, while we walked, that picking a good life partner, while obviously more important, involves many of the same “tangibles and intangibles” that served Anne and I well on the journey we shared. 

 

It was a lesson I already had some experience with.

 

When I was twenty years old my father offered me his one and only piece of advice where marriage was concerned. I remember perfectly that warm August evening in Kerrville, Texas. It was 1979 and I was twenty years old when he caught me off guard by saying: “Make sure you pick someone who shares a similar background Dana. Marriage is hard enough as it is and you better begin with that at least.” It was the day that my dad first met the young man, who would become my first husband, and, it was roughly four hours before I ignored his advice completely and accepted that young man’s marriage proposal.  I see now that he was afraid of what he saw coming, and didn’t want me to have to learn this lesson the hard way.  

 

My father wasn’t one to offer much advice, so you’d think that I would have taken notice when he did. If so, you’d be wrong. I was used to thinking things out for myself. I was determined to marry this man, who though wonderful in many ways, shared very little of my background or world-view.  I was young, and ignored my father’s wisdom in favor of my own. Part of it, I’m sure, was that I had other mentors that were more outspoken than my father, mostly ministers and youth pastors that I’d known through my teenage years. Unlike my dad, they backed up their marital advice with Bible quotes, and that made them seem much more credible to me back then. They were charismatic, and convincing; much more convincing than my own quiet, and usually remote father. Their basic message sounded similar though: “One should never be “unequally yoked”, but it meant something quite different when spoken of by these younger, more “spiritual” guides. For anyone who came of age in a church youth group, especially in the Bible belt of The South, you’ve heard it too; “Never marry an un-believer”  "A woman benefits from a more spiritual husband” and above all “If the structure of your marriage is as God intends then don’t worry, all the other pieces will fall into place”.     

 

So, following a four week courtship, and just four short hours after hearing my father’s understated, and to me less credible counsel, I became engaged to a handsome young man with more underlining in his Bible than I had in mine. It’s embarrassing now to admit just how important both seemed at the time. In hindsight I can see that I thought that was all that mattered; The rest, I assumed, would “fall into place”.

 

Marriage, even more than The Camino, can be tricky enough without someone truly compatible to share the journey. There’s no room for secrets in a healthy marriage, and emotional safety can’t co-exist with ill will. A discrepant world-view, and a different cadence, or way of showing up to life, both physically and emotionally, will become apparent almost immediately and break both people down over time. Without that intangible that we call “chemistry”, that leads us to adore and desire each other without reason, it’s impossible to weather the challenges that life will always throw our way. Sexual passion is the invisible bonding glue that holds a couple together; Without it, it’s tough to delight in life together for long. 

 

One of my favorite parts of The Camino was observing the interactions of other walking partners that we met along the way. We came across one young couple several times and each time we saw them they were walking at least twenty meters apart. They were never smiling and I imagined that this was a painful journey for both of them. We met one woman walking alone who seemed happy as she explained that her friend was “long ahead”; They always walked separately and met up at the end of each day. Though that worked well for them, Anne and I agreed that we were happy that we were walking together, as shared fun was our biggest delight. Interestingly, without fail, the older couples that we came across were openly laughing and teasing each other. They also unfailingly touched each other freely and demonstrated real physical affection for one another. We saw this so often that we decided that it must not be a coincidence, but instead must reveal some deeper truth; It confirmed to me that for couples to make it very far in life, and continue to have enthusiasm for a longer deeper journey, they must still share good humor, and also that their physical attachment to one another must still be alive and well. I’m not sure that I believe either of those things grow with time; It seems crucial that they be present from the start.

 

I also noticed that, on The Camino, differences between partners seemed to grow more obvious, not less, with challenge and fatigue. At least that was my experience. I was glad that Anne had chosen our little group of two wisely, as the walk grows more satisfying, but also trickier, with time on the trail. It was a joy to share it with someone who, for the most part, matched me step for step. While I know that there is a fair amount of character building that can come from sharing time, space, or a life with someone who is very different from me, it doesn’t seem to make for very enjoyable days. Challenges of all sorts continue to strengthen me, but I’ve reached a season in my life where I appreciate more the ease of a smooth journey.

 

That impulsive first marriage of mine broke down in the end, of course, but not before doing a fair amount of damage to us all. Despite youthful optimism it turns out that there was more to “equal yoking” than I, or my church youth group leaders, had understood. My first husband and I were not well matched in many ways that really mattered, and we spent the next sixteen years pulling furiously against each other. Unequal yokes of many sorts are not benign. They do great damage to the souls locked within them, and to those they are responsible for guiding through life, like the children who deserve a smoother ride. 

 

Luckily, having learned our lesson, we both went on to marry again; This time we both chose partners who shared our history, and for the most part, our way of looking at and responding to the world and to each-other. We were fortunate to receive a second chance to “pick our partners well”. My father had been right all along and it made all the difference in the world!

 

Reflections 

 

When I was younger I believed that “a good match”, be it in friendship or love, was simply a matter of attraction, circumstances, and timing. I hadn’t spent much time searching within myself to understand who I was, and what I needed in life, and I certainly didn’t know how to recognize those aspects in others and understand that I needed a partner that matched me on the deepest levels. There is truth in the notion that “we must become what we’d like to attract” but how does one even begin to grasp what that means?

 

Ironically, insight into the dilemma of finding “a good match” begins with deeper insight into ourselves. Courageously asking “Who am I really?” (Not, “Who do I think I am supposed to be?”) “What do I yearn for?” (Not, “What should I want?”) sets us up to recognize when we are in the presence of someone who “fits” us at the deepest levels.

 

    1.  What are your truest, deepest desires in friendship and love?

    2.  Which of your strengths, and weaknesses do you hesitate to reveal to others?