There is no road, the road is made by walking. ~Antonio Machado

When my daughter was a little girl I would read chapter books to her out loud. One of her favorite stories was called The Princess and the Goblins. The princess in the story is faced with a challenge that forces her to travel under the mountain where menacing trolls lurk in darkness mining for jewels.   She must make her way through pitch-blackness to reach her destination, but a delicate silver thread guides her through the twists and turns in the underworld – as long as she remembers to keep hold of the thread she will be safe. I was reminded of this story when I came upon several ancient markers along the Camino, often a lone stone cross, reassuring pilgrims they were headed the right direction, not unlike the stacked stone cairns found on a mountain trail that point the way.

These markers felt different than the yellow arrows I encountered. Perhaps because they appeared less frequently or maybe because they had seen centuries of pilgrims pass by long before the yellow arrows appeared on the scene. They were my silver thread reminding me I was exactly where I needed to be even though my journey wasn’t complete. These weathered forms beckoned me to take stock of the milestones in my own life, the watershed moments that stood apart from the many quieter moments of my life; moving to Colorado, breaking an engagement, the births of my son and daughter, the death of my brother, my marriage, and my husband’s recent retirement. – each a significant transition, a change in course. Sometimes the only way to measure progress is by looking backwards from where we’ve come.

Some of the markers I encountered while walking were impromptu altars fashioned from shells, or clay, or rocks. These delightful creations appeared in random places.   One of my favorites was a small niche tucked into a rock wall filled with photos and trinkets. Above the niche a brightly painted pilgrim girl with a blue heart-shaped face and a staff hanging over her shoulder was embedded into the wall. She captivated me with her whimsy. She seemed to be enjoying the journey with all its twist and turns and unexpected moments. The interesting thing about a pilgrimage is that it involves movement – moving through the landscape of space, time, and emotions. Similar to music, it can only be experienced over a period of time. It is not static. Markers offer a chance to pause for a moment, acknowledge how far I’ve come, but also consider what direction I want to head next.

Questions: What are the significant markers in your life? What is your destination?