09/25/2025
Ponte de Lima - Rubiaes - Tui
~25 miles~
“Adeus” Portugal, “Hola” Espana
JUDGEMENT
After a glorious rest day in the charming town of Ponte de Lima, we leave early to take advantage of our morning energy, and the cool weather for the hills ahead.
It is hard to describe the route without it sounding mundane - up/down hills, passing villages, farmland, vineyards, cobblestone streets, streams, dirt paths through the forest, etc. Yet with each piece of this journey, it has not felt routine at all. We wonder what is ahead, and we embrace the beauty and the challenges of it all.
As we walk across the bridge with Portugal behind us and Spain in front of us, we say “adeus” to the people and places we encountered and “hola” to what lies ahead…
The citizens and the pilgrims seem to have found - more often than not - a way to peacefully, respectfully , and enjoyably co-exist. This gives us vast amounts of oxygen - such a far cry from what is happening in the world outside of the Camino.
This is exactly what I experienced nine years ago on my first Camino. It is jarring when someone doesn’t follow that “pilgrim‘s code of conduct.“ On Day 6 there was a very rude pilgrim at our albergue in Rubaies. Instead of a bark back, I paused, smiled and said with full sincerity, “Please go ahead.” Rather than judge her - as I was well trained to do, I realized that I don’t know her story and withheld judgement.
I thought of this as we passed through the Valença, Portugal fortress and then the Tui, Spain fortress on the other side of the river. We build walls around us that we can choose to leave up, take down, have them taken down by others, or by time. Truth be told, I don’t suspend my judgement walls nearly enough and it remains a lofty goal.
EMILY SCOTT &:
I constantly tell clients to not self judge and that I will gently push back so they can recognize it. When it comes to money, the landscape is rife with judgement both externally and internally. It is a fact that judgement is a key reason that women don’t deal with money.
I’m honored that my clients don’t feel judged “in the room.” The safe space allows people to open up and appreciate that their self judgment is standing in their way of peace of mind and clarity of purpose.
In the business networks, I have encountered a few “judgy colleagues. “ I recently explained to another consultant how I run my practice and she said “So it’s a hobby.” Moving past the reaction of calling her judgment out, I took time to reflect if any of that was true. Long story short, “NO.”
Moral of the story - you don’t need to own someone else’s narrative AND examine your own narrative to determine if it is fully your truth without layers of others messages.
FOCUS: I’ll keep this short as Warsan Shire’s poem “Home” is the perfect way to silence the judgement far too many people have of refugees and asylum seekers. I thank those of you who have read my “Focus” section and Warsaw’s poem. Perhaps you were moved and your perspective was altered…
Here is the poem in full:
Home
By Warsan Shire
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
ni***rs with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubblethan bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
