Why I crossed the Pyrenees

Why I Crossed The Pyrenees

Jesper Madsen
December 19, 2017
 

Why would anyone in their right mind choose to leave the comforts of home, to walk alone in the mountains for 46 strenuous days, exposed to the elements? It’s a fair question, to which I will let Mary Oliver respond with another question, “tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Before answering Mary Oliver and the question of why I traversed the Pyrenees, I would like to give a bit of context. Because my choice to take a pilgrimage in nature started four years earlier, when I was the manager of a best-in-class $7bn investment portfolio. The international business travel looked glamorous. And if my ego needed any validation there were speaking events at conferences or appearances on TV. So to anyone it looked like I was living the life. There was only one slight problem. This was no longer my life. And I knew it.

While I was achieving outward success, my inner world was slowly dying. My natural curiosity was dwindling, replaced by anger, as my true self revolted, screaming for authenticity, feeling cut off from itself and others. I was lost. Dante’s opening stanza in the Divine Comedy described my inner state:

"Midway in the journey of our life
I came to myself in a dark wood,
for the straight way was lost"

The first thing to do when lost is to stop to get your bearings. However, to stop is to accept you are lost. I stopped. Literally. I quit my career at the pinnacle of success. Decided that it was time to get my bearings and find my path out of Dante’s dark woods.

In early 2017, the impetus to walk a literal path of my choosing grew in strength. The signs were initially faint, like the markings of a grown-over trail in the woods. I found myself reading Paulo Coelho’s The Pilgrimage. The story resonated and I was inspired like millions before me by his adventures on the Camino de Santiago. Instead of letting the warm glow of inspiration fizzle out, I scoured the internet for my pilgrimage.

I wanted to walk a trail less travelled, one that would test me both physically and mentally and offer long stretches of solitude in nature. That was when I discovered the Grande Randonnée 10 (GR10) in the French Pyrenees. This 560-mile trek, from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea, would take about 50 days and require 380,000 feet of accumulated elevation change. It was twice the time I had initially planned to dedicate to the pilgrimage. I hesitated, before realizing one fundamental truth about a pilgrimage. It requires sacrifice. 

Did I want to explore the possibilities of this unfamiliar trail, that would test me in unpredictable ways and take me into unknown territory? Should I respond to its call? A call that rang out from the depth of my being. Or should I continue down the familiar road, leaving this sweet potentiality to wither on the vine, slowly turning sour with the regret of the unlived?

We have all been here. At this universal split in the road, when our heart is urging us to take the path less traveled, the one that is uniquely ours. This urge is not a rational one. On the contrary. The intellect will quickly present us with a laundry list of reasons to stay on the straight well-trodden path ahead – the one doused in fluorescent light, the one that seems safe, the one that comes at the cost of your life.

As a recovering rationalist, I know only too well how the conscious mind can lead you far off the authentic path. Not until the moment you wake in Dante’s dark woods, do you realize you’ve been pursuing the mirage of a promised land, one conjured by the mind and sold on the promise of happiness at that elusive end of the rainbow.

The mind is simply not equipped to answer the question of what we truly want or find purposeful. The conscious mind is an exceptional problem solver. It is indispensable in finding our way once we know the destination, but first we have to find the address of our dreams and desires.

The heart, or more aptly the body, is the honest compass guiding us towards our true North, towards what will give us meaning and joy. Pay attention to the body and you will see that it is constantly engaging you in a conversation. The body speaks to us of our deepest most soulful desires and dreams. Unfortunately, we have not been taught to trust our gut or intuition. It is often viewed as irrational and therefore unreliable.

The urge to traverse the Pyrenees was not a rational one. I didn’t know why this idea of a pilgrimage in the mountains carried such resonance, but it did. I chose to listen to the faint whispers, emanating from a less conscious place, as if tuning into a long-lost radio station playing the favorite songs of my youth.

I allowed for my interest to take root and to grow. I noticed the bubbly excitement in my belly as I envisioned walking in the mountains under open skies. Importantly, I temporarily put aside, the voice in my head listing reasons not to go. Once the signal was loud and clear, once I had made the decision to go, then, and only then, did I engage my mind to figure out the substantial preparation needed in getting there.

I crossed the Pyrenees because it felt right. The expansive magnificence of the mountains and the raw exposure to nature was both humbling and liberating. I felt connected, a sense of belonging in the world. A feeling that carried me even through the most testing times, a glimpse of what Joseph Campbell describes as “following your bliss”. Walking the path will not always be easy, but it will be meaningful because you will be living like your life depends on it.

So “tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

©2017 by Jesper Madsen Coaching.  Reproduced with permission.

Visit Jesper's Website: https://www.jespermadsencoaching.com/