Making Our Way as We Go
Reflections on life as a journey
Since this newsletter is about journeys, it seems fitting to share this classic poem by the great Spanish poet, Antonio Machado — read by me in its original language (see link above).
It’s a spacious look at what it means to make our way in the world — to keep moving forward in our unique wondrous ways…
without getting stuck in the past.
Caminante, No Hay Camino
A Poem by Antonio Machado
“Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace el camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino
sino estelas en la mar.”
Traveler, your footprints
are the only road, nothing else.
Traveler, there is no road;
you make your own path as you walk.
As you walk, you make your own road,
and when you look back
you see the path
you will never travel again.
Traveler, there is no road;
only a ship’s wake on the sea.
—Translated by Mary G. Berg and Dennis Maloney1
I love this poem because it touches on two aspects of our human experience…
“… and when you look back
you see the path you will never travel again.”
There’s that pang — that ache or yearning to hold on to life experiences that will never be again; that state of being so perfectly encapsulated by the Portuguese word “saudade” (which I share here again from an earlier post on Nostalgia):
Saudade: is an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone. It is often associated with a repressed understanding that one might never encounter the object of longing ever again. It is a recollection of feelings, experiences, places, or events, often elusive, that cause a sense of separation from the exciting, pleasant, or joyous sensations they once caused. It derives from the Latin word for solitude... 2
And then there’s this…
“Traveler, there is no road;
you make your own path as you walk.”
The part of the journey where freedom and hope and possibility live.
The journey that is still unfolding.
The path yet to be taken, that we create as we go.
The story yet to be written, that only we can write.
How about you? Where does this poem take you?
Your fellow travelers and I would love to know.
Ahhh 🫶🏼
In case you missed it…
The journey I am on currently, the unfamiliar for me - yet familiar - for my late husband (who I still miss), who died of heart failure. Me - who I knew as healthy and fit, now experiencing heart failure, and my doctors' efforts to keep me living, albeit a tad slower. I am not used to this s-l-o-w-n-e-s-s, but my body is responding. Now I listen to my body, and my Loving Higher Power who holds me in His/Her gracious and loving hands. And so I trust and we continue on this journey - me and my Holy Guide.
Love this. I'm about to walk the Camino de Santiago solo from France to Santiago in early April. Learning bascic Spanish to help me on the way. This poem speaks to me. Havee no idea WHY I am doing it- it's calling me!