This woman just hiked all the way from Paris to the northwest corner of Spain, Santiago de Compostela. For a thousand years, pilgrims have made this trek for reasons I don’t understand. I’ll never forget seeing the jubilation on the faces as triumphant trekkers of all ages and languages — walking sticks frayed, pant-legs fringed, faces sunburned — paused to savor the sweet moment as they finally reached their goal. I’m not sure why this moved me so. Perhaps it’s the timeless power of individual faith. Maybe it’s heritage and tradition. Or it might be the notion that people would abandon everything and move mountains for treasured feelings and beliefs that never even occurred to me.