Carrying other people's stuff

Not far from Astorga, I'll be passing by the Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross), where pilgrims traditionally add a stone they've brought from home to the pile at the base of the cross. I'll be adding to that pile a small stone from an inlet in British Columbia for my older brother, and for myself a shell from Costa Rica and the old "E" key from my iBook. I wore the letter off writing Living Abroad in Costa Rica. I painted the E in with blue fingernail polish, but that too faded after thousands more keystrokes. I don't why I want to carry that key but maybe it'll come to me when I'm the Camino. At least it has the virtue of being very light.

It's been interesting, telling people I'm willing to carry something for them along the Camino. The idea came when I read about medieval pilgrims walking for their town, petitioning St. James for rain for crops or relief from the plague. I liked the idea of walking for more than myself.

But when you make an offer, you've got to be ready to have it declined. One friend couldn't think of anything, tangible or intangible, for me to carry for her. "I guess I don't get all that spiritual stuff," she said, which made me realize that just because you see something "spiritual" in someone doesn't mean they see it in themselves or that they call it by that name. That friend joked I could carry her new dog for her, which I'd kind of like to do but it would take too long to stop by Brooklyn to pick up Rita (see bat-dog in the photo, weighing in at 7 or 8 pounds). Another friend tried to give me the same runaround but I wouldn't let her. I held her down until she told me what she wanted me to carry. Her plea doesn't weigh anything, thank god, though I am collecting an interesting assortment of objects to carry, including (from my boyfriend) a small piece of the Great Pyramid.

So some people can't accept the offer but most can. They rise to the occasion (or I hold them down) and we get to talk on a deeper level for a few moments. Extending such an offer and then accepting it takes you out of the everyday and into the mythic. It makes you think about what a pilgrimage is and what it means to carry something of significance along it -- or to charge another to carry it for you. And I know that carrying other people's objects or prayers -- or simply helping them bear a slice of their confusion for a little while -- will enrich my own trip exponentially, and will make me feel less alone with my own, uh, stuff.