Everyone can remember a tree from their childhood.

I remember the tall Eucalypt that stood in our front yard. I remember the old apple tree in the far corner of my grandparent’s plot. I remember the fruit trees we planted when we moved onto our property – and I remember our first harvest of their fruit (the peaches, nectarines and plums).

But the tree that I still think about today, is the one I met 15 years ago on my pilgrimage across northern Spain.

I had been walking for about 3 weeks, following the same routine – waking early, having some bread, packing my bag, and walking for 20-30km to my next resting place (or albergue). On one particular morning, after hoisting my bag onto my back, I heard my intuition tell me to stop, go back.

I knew exactly what I was being called back to – the tree. The big old fig I’d passed the day before and struggled to leave behind. I’d sat under the fig for a short time, getting some respite from the heat, and when it was time to continue to the next village, I felt it’s pull.

In my mind, the time was getting on and I needed to find a bed for the night. I said goodbye and continued walking.

Once again, I hesitated when I heard it calling the following morning – why would I walk back to a tree? How much further would I need to walk if I do go back? Would I even make it to the village I’d planned to walk to that day?

I put my questions to the side and placed my trust in the tree. There must be a reason for walking back.

It seemed to smile when I arrived, waving its branches on my return. I put my bag down, rolled out my towel and lay down to rest – losing myself in the flickering of sunlight through the branches.

At around lunch time – hours after arriving at the tree, the first couple of pilgrims came around the corner. Marveling at the enormity of this tree and the shade it provided, they decided to stop and have their lunch.

Before long, the next small group arrived – and they too stopped to rest. This continued for the next couple of hours and I noticed how each pilgrim who stopped, stayed. No one was getting up to continue their walk – despite the time ticking by.

By late afternoon, we had a whole gathering under that tree – some pilgrims pulled out their ukuleles, small drums or rattles, and we played music and sung. We shared what little food we had with each other, and we talked about our personal experiences on the road to Santiago, laughing and crying at all this road bought up for us.

Before this day, I’d been walking alone. I wanted to be with my own thoughts and walk in silence. I’d been reflecting on what life might look like should I choose to live alone – in solitude. It really appealed to me at the time.

This beautiful old fig called me back to remind me of what could be found when a group of people came together and shared (their music, food, conversation). It reminded me of what could be found in community – connection!

We can choose to step outside our communities and take some respite, but what is important, is the knowing that when we are ready to reconnect, our communities will be there, waiting with arms open.