To be completely honest, writing this blog and sticking to descriptions of what happened each day is much easier than trying to make sense of what happened after my Camino. But I want to try.
Lately I’ve been reading Jack Kornfield’s book, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. In it I learned that peak spiritual experiences are often followed by serious doubt, angst, and depression. Reading his wise words is bringing me reassurance that the feelings I’ve had this last year are completely normal.
Continue reading “Post-Camino insight: Solvitur ambulando”
Almost three weeks in to this journey, walking was a part of me. This familiarity allowed me to notice small distinctions in pace – the body’s speed, how the mind races, and a glimpse into the slow, steady rhythm of a trusting heart. Considering that I often race through my daily life, learning to play with pace as a pilgrim bestowed a number of insights I use in my life.
“As you walk, eat, and travel, be where you are — otherwise you will miss most of life.” (Jack Kornfield)
Continue reading “Day 20: Learning to face the path of your pace — Hontanas to Itero de la Vega”
Every time I think about this particular day on the Camino, I break out into a big grin.
Had Muriel and I been driven, mileage-obsessed pilgrims, we would have missed so much delight, so much serendipity.
Continue reading “Day 19: Happiness from Hornillos to Hontanas”
From my journal:
“Things I’ve lost so far: My SPF lip balm, my utility tool, 2 hair ties. My sticks I’ve almost left behind twice, but so far so good.”
Lessons in letting go
I pared down before I left. I even sent a box home from Saint Jean Pied de Port. However, as I traveled, the Universe divested me of yet more things by accident or design.
Continue reading “Day 18: Letting go — Burgos to Hornillos del Camino”
Finishing is hardly ever a cut-and-dried event for me. I completed my Camino in stages, like layers of an onion, narrowing down toward the essence of the journey. Arriving in Santiago was the first layer, then arriving in the cathedral square, then attending Mass and receiving my compostella certificate, but the walk for me was always about Finisterre. The true end of the road.
I’ll write more about that actual arrival in a later post, but these last seven weeks I have been reading my journal from last year, day by day, remembering as much detail as I can. This past Sunday was the day Meg and I walked out to the tiny spit of land, piles of massive stones jutting out into the Atlantic. There, my Camino journey came to an end.
Continue reading “Taking a hike and remembering Finisterre”