Finding Your Way on the Long Walk

​Recently a dear friend, who I hadn't heard from in a while, reached out to me. Anne is someone who I share a deep spiritual connection with, whether we communicate often or with long intervals in between. She wanted to know if I would teach a yoga class to the high school girls basketball team in Rocklin CA. I said YES, I would LOVE to. We continued to chat and she shared with me that she had recently walked parts of the Camino de Santiago. As readers of my newsletter you may recall, I had the good fortune to walk portions of it last summer with my husband and son. As we talked Anne shared with me that she wrote a poem about the Camino or "The Way" as it is sometimes called. I found her poem beautiful and inspiring, full of wisdom. With her permission I'm sharing it with you now. What I found so universally appealing is that it speaks to the feeling we all have sometimes of being on a path and wondering whether or not we've lost our way. We are always looking for guidance. May this poem provide some of that guidance to those who read it.

The Way is Here A Poem by Anne Evans

​The Way is Here
There are yellow arrows along the Camino de Santiago.
My friend told me about them.
In fact, they became her spirit guides,
silent indicators offering her a way to move on.
What a comfort, when thinking you are lost,
to receive this confirmation that you’re on the path.
Some are drawn to wander off, to sample and sip
or get too near a cliff or busy roadway,
but there’s that arrow appearing like an open hand,
offering the way: Right over here. The way is here.
Where are the yellow arrows for us now, as we move on,
wondering if we might be lost?
Do they flicker like blinkers in sync with our hearts?
Do they insert themselves in our dreams? In our guts?
Do we hear them in a child’s repeated question?
Can we see them in the green glow of our cell phones?
The path itself calls out to us: Pay attention, pilgrim.
Travel light. Walk with quiet confidence, then rest.
You’re here.You’re okay. This is your way.
And when we put down our fretful loads
we see the tender arrows, faint footprints,
feathers, pebbles and shells, markers left by others.
Notes from our mothers, words from our friends
all pointing out : there are so many ways.

Anne Evans