It's just 10AM and I'm sitting in this nice little village wondering what to do with myself. I should be walking, at least that's what my body is telling me...in conflict with my brain which tells me that I'm done for the moment. The cloud rolled in a bit overnight as expected and the Atlantic has sent even more my way, so I've decided to sit here and reflect a bit...based on past experience I know this process will continue for some time...it part of re-entry. Ah, but what about the sunrise image you ask? Have no fear, I was up and wandering around my room before 6 today. A difficult pattern to break after the past 7 weeks. 7 weeks...can it only be seven weeks since I set off from Sevilla? I looked back at a few early photos last night and...oh just a minute...the sunrise...taken from the skylight window in my room.
As I was saying, I looked back on the journey a bit last night while enjoying a true Galician celebratory meal...ok I'll share that too before I reflect...enjoyed while sending emails and watch the demise of a football dynasty...all things seemingly end, but then continue.
As I was saying...as I looked at a few of the images I was struck by many things. Firstly, my beard has grown out...I kind of like it this way. Wonder what Annemarie will think? She will probably have the final word...probably. My face is definitely leaner with a definite weathered look, and my clothes are hanging on me now, but they were doing that a bit before I left, so not sure where things stand on that front. I'm lean with little extra on me, but that was expected and that combined with the odd tan lines should confirm I wasn't sitting on a Mediterranean beach...though the thought of moving on to Greece and Turkey did cross my mind. I'm not sure what the repeated pull is, but I have to return there soon...no problem convincing Annemarie! Any way I'll be sampling the plate de jour. soon, so should fill out before returning home.
Secondly I was fortunate to meet the people that I did on my journey. Some of them (like some of the followers of this blog) challenged me to examine why I was here, and for that I'm most fortunate...it led to a deeper, more meaningful journey. Others presence forced me to work on some of the personal reasons I choose to walk again so soon...greater patience and acceptance, not always my strongest suits, but perhaps improving. Others simply provided companionship and laughter at the end of the day or on the odd occassions that we walked together...so very appreciated. I exchanged emails with John and Cordula last night while eating. They hope to arrive in Santiago on June 29th, their wedding anniversary...still working their way towards Ourense. I miss their company, but they are on their own Camino as John fights his cancer and other challenges...slugging it out would perhaps be more appropriate. He told me that Oli arrived yesterday in Santiago and met his wife...to fly home today.
Another thing that struck me, perhaps more so when I look at the pictures than when I was in the middle of it, was the remoteness of so many days. To be on ones own for an extended period of time is I guess a bit daunting for some and many folks abandoned their journey or linked up with others to walk each day. And that's just fine...it's a long road and you need to do what's best for you to manage. However, for others, and I would include myself in this group, the excitement of continuous discovery and challenge, the soulfulness of aloneness, the reflective allowances and the simple process of "moment present" (as Didier would say, and it sounds better with a French accent) provided value beyond words. I quickly stopped worrying about things; would I find my way with such a crappy map (this became a joke with all)? where I would sleep? would I get a bed? would the locals understand me? could I sleep in the albergues?, and I came to understand that things would simply happen as they were intended to. If something went other than expected, no problem...it would sort out. It brought me a peace and satisfaction I haven't previously known...for sure not during my working years. I found a way to put many things away and to simply leave them behind on the trail. Some things kept returning, but that simply told me that there was still work to be done...and I'd chew it up again. I guess life is sometimes like that...a process of watching old reruns.
I also learned that I sometimes need these types of experiences on my own. I met others, both men and women, who left home and loved ones to walk, and have being doing so for years. I dearly loved walking (and travelling) with Annemarie and will do so again...soon. Our Frances experience together helped her to understand my need to leave home and walk again...and I cherish her understanding. She understood that I needed to walk my own Camino, perhaps a bit selfish of me in some respects. However it aIlowed me to walk as I needed to, without worrying about my partner...allowing me to just let go and become completely open to the experience. We have much to discuss...Tofino can't come soon enough.
Being by nature a very individualistic and generally private person, it's typically not in my domain to share so publicly, but early on during this journey I decided to do so. Perhaps it was being alone and not having Annemarie to discuss things with along the way and the absence of English speaking peregrinos since I left home almost 8 weeks ago that led me to this openness...but then as Didier would say, "it's Camino, things happen". I'm going to miss his company. Guess I'll have to learn enough French to email with him...I have the time:)
I may eventually try to discuss the differences between the Frances experience and the Plata while still on the road before I return home while my time is my own. I have been asked often and have provided some insite into this...on reflection, perhaps there isn't a need for this as those who have walked the Frances might have figured out the differences already from just following my trip...they are a bright group! There are also other questions that I have been asked that I'll try to address, and I will continue to blog as I head for home. However, for now, I've shared enough and I find that my body needs more sleep...funny what happens when you stop pushing yourself day after day and just stop. My body says I should be walking...my mind just wants sleep.
A few photos...definitely a story here...two packs, one peregrino?
For Mom & Dad, because it looks like home on some days.
Buen Camino
Happiness is...:)
Thanks--you've given us a lot to think about today. I think it's true that one of the Camino's biggest gifts is the growing acceptance that the Way will give us what we need--that's the hardest thing to hold onto afterwards, in my experience.
ReplyDeleteIf you walk up to the top of the hill over the lighthouse, past the radio transmitter thing, you'll find a group of large rocks. One of them supposedly can be moved with just one finger because of the way it's balanced, despite its massive weight. I looked all over, though, and I couldn't find it!
There are the foundations of a hermit's hut up there, too. That's a lot easier to find because there's a sign directing you there.
Thanks again for taking us along on your trip. I hope you discovered whatever it is that you needed to learn!
Ken
Hi Geoff
ReplyDeleteI'm in again too. Wasn't sure if there would be a post but was hoping there might be. I'm glad there was. Thank you for your
mellow reflections which suggest both resolution and a sense of openness to further discovery. I relate so much to the 'pull' or 'inner compulsion' to continue journeying too. I think that's why sharing in your camino has been so rich for me. I know everyone has to do their own camino but you have helped me as I continue with mine which consists mainly of a limbo-like wondering through seemingly heartless Canberra suburbs at present (suburbs full of people all trying to figure out and do life - so really not heartless at all). I've loved being able to hear a word from Ken each day too - our mutual friend and camino buddy.
Your photos and your words continue to move me. The one with your feet in the Atlantic takes me back to the day I threw myself naked into that same ocean, probably not so far from where you are standing in the photo (no one was around so they were spared from being subjected to seeing it!). It's a real symbol of being at the end of the road... certainly the road as it has been so far. The day I did it was wild, wet, windy - it was a baptism in (a dying and passing through) the waters of chaos. Having emerged, I, like you, am different in profound ways that are hard to explain. David Whyte, captures something of it in his poem Finisterre, where he writes of the need
to abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water's edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread
and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves.
Anyway, I look forward to reading further posts and reflections if and as they come.
BTW, if you find a black hat/cap under a rock on the northern side of the main headland overlooking that tiny little rock/island, it's mine. I'd be glad if you would grab it and bring it with you when you head this way!!
Thinking of you as you allow yourself restfully to be with the mystery and magnitude of this moment.
And buen camino as you step into the next...
Neil