Do any of us know why we do things? At face value, it seems so obvious: we have needs and desires, and we meet them. We eat because we're hungry, we sleep because we're tired, we go to college because we want an education.
And yet, if I honestly look at why I do things, I find that it is not so simple. Why then do I eat when I am not hungry? Why do I not sleep even when I'm tired? Did I really seek higher education, or did I decide to go to university quite independently of that factor? Maybe the "real" reasons are too petty and whimsical (or too shameful) for me to admit to anyone -- even myself -- so I fabricate more legitimate "reasons" that I start believing as well.
In one of George Bernard Shaw's plays (I can't remember which one), one of the characters says something like, "We rarely know why we do things. If we did, would we still do them?"
Some people say that the rationality in our decisions is an illusion: all our decisions are made from our "gut", and we come up with reasons to justify them afterwards. Sometimes "afterwards" is a matter of split seconds, so that we cannot tell that the decision was there before our reasons were. Even the decisions we tackle with all our rationality -- perhaps writing long lists of pros and cons -- cannot truly be taken with our rationality alone. Something needs to evaluate why a given circumstance is a pro or a con, and this something is virtually always some form of self-interest. Even our most altruistic acts give us something in return, or else we simply wouldn't do them.
And yet, if I honestly look at why I do things, I find that it is not so simple. Why then do I eat when I am not hungry? Why do I not sleep even when I'm tired? Did I really seek higher education, or did I decide to go to university quite independently of that factor? Maybe the "real" reasons are too petty and whimsical (or too shameful) for me to admit to anyone -- even myself -- so I fabricate more legitimate "reasons" that I start believing as well.
In one of George Bernard Shaw's plays (I can't remember which one), one of the characters says something like, "We rarely know why we do things. If we did, would we still do them?"
Some people say that the rationality in our decisions is an illusion: all our decisions are made from our "gut", and we come up with reasons to justify them afterwards. Sometimes "afterwards" is a matter of split seconds, so that we cannot tell that the decision was there before our reasons were. Even the decisions we tackle with all our rationality -- perhaps writing long lists of pros and cons -- cannot truly be taken with our rationality alone. Something needs to evaluate why a given circumstance is a pro or a con, and this something is virtually always some form of self-interest. Even our most altruistic acts give us something in return, or else we simply wouldn't do them.
I do not know why I decided to take a 40-day pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. I don't even remember when I first heard about it. It would have been 2003 or maybe 2004. It might have been while I was on a hitch hiking trip, or in conversation with friends. I really don't know. But I do know that the moment I heard about it, my response was, "I'm doing that someday."
Is it possible to decide something and then discover, through reflection and meditation, what the real reason for my decision was? I asked myself this question again and again during the pilgrimage. Over time I had found three good reasons to take this trip:
1. I like walking.
2. I like getting to know new countries, but I don't like being lost in a country where I do not speak the language.
3. I'd like to take some time to pray and reflect.
At over 800 Kilometers, the Camino de Santiago is a long walk -- it took me 40 days -- through an area in which the infrastructure exists to make walking a good experience. I'd never been in Spain before, but I do speak Spanish. 40 days in which I do nothing but walk would be a good time to reflect, meditate, and learn about prayer.
But if these were my real reasons, why would it have taken me so long to figure them out? If these were not my real reasons, what were the real reasons, and would they also sound so much like the sort of things that would lure a person like me to such an experience?
I noticed that every pilgrim I met along the way was slightly uneasy about being asked why he or she was making this trip. Some of the answers I heard:
"Because it's there."
"I just decided I'd follow yellow arrows and see where they would lead me."
"I want to be able to believe in myself, and crossing the entire country on foot will definitely help."
"Well, I've done the Camino Frances, the Camino de la Plata and the Camino Portugues. Now I decided it was time for the Camino Norte."
"Well, I'm certainly not doing it for religious reasons."
At first it struck me that none of these are satisfactory answers to the question, but then I began wondering what exactly I would expect a satisfactory answer to look like.
On my 38th day, when the pilgrimage was almost finished, I might have heard the best explanation. Ivar from Norway, who had just finished his theological studies and was about to be ordained as a Lutheran pastor, put it more or less like this:
"All the pilgrims are here for spiritual reasons. Many don't know it, and some will go to great lengths to make it clear that those are not their reasons. But our problem is that we have some sort of expectation of what we imagine a spiritual reason to be, and our expectation is not matched by whatever it was that drove us to come walk here. But see for yourself how we all grope for the words to explain why we are making this road. We've forgotten the spirituality of simply walking. What else could be behind all this if not a spiritual reason?"
