Then I remembered where I was and instead I said, “Thank you.”
As I took one last breath before setting out for what I hoped would be the final push of the day, it dawned on me how I had internalized my father’s lack of witnessing and had been doing the same thing to myself all my life.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think I was on my path or fulfilling my purpose. I knew my purpose and I had no doubt that I was on my path. It was deeper than that. It’s that I did not witness or lovingly acknowledge and celebrate myself in any way, ever. I treated myself the way my father treated me. I just pushed myself to keep doing, keep working, keep giving, quit complaining, and never ask for a thing.
All at once, I felt more compassion for both of us. I also recognized at the same time that the one who had injured me most was not my father at all. Rather, it was me, by treating myself the way I had interpreted him to be treating me when I was a child.
It wasn’t his acknowledgment I needed. It was my own. I needed to find to a sense of love and compassion for myself that I honestly didn’t feel. I had it for the entire world, but not for myself.
I had read that the Camino gives you a gift every day if you pay enough attention to receive it. This realization was my Camino gift for today. For years I knew I had to have more self-love. For years I knew I had to forgive my father and release myself from this festering childhood wound. This wasn’t new information. Yet today, for the first time, there was a new feeling resonating inside my bones.
As I continued, I came upon a sign that said I was in The Sorcieres’ Woods, which sent a chill up my spine. Just as I imagined they were in the Middle Ages, these woods were alive with nature spirits and more, and I could feel all their eyes upon me after I passed. I wondered if I had been one of the “sorcieres” burned alive in the Middle Ages, as the Spanish loved to do back then.
“I’m back,” I said out loud, spontaneously, “to forgive you.” I liked the energy I felt walking through there. The energy was powerful and commanded respect. Tears rolled down my face as I emerged from the woods and finally walked into Roncesvalles. I wasn’t sure if they were tears of exhaustion, pain, surprise that I had made it, compassion for my dad, compassion for me, awareness of my own childhood wounding and undoing, or relief that I could soon stop walking. It was probably all of it combined.
Wow. And this was only day one. My head spun. I felt as though I had entered an alternate reality, and planet Earth and my life as I knew it had disappeared into this mystical new realm.
As I shuffled into town I looked at my watch. It was 4:30 P.M. I had left at 8 this morning, so that wasn’t too bad, I thought, given that this day was rumored to be the most grueling of the entire journey. I found my way to the center of town, which wasn’t difficult to do, as the Camino spilled right into it and the town was minuscule. I made my way to the Pilgrim’s Passport Office, where I proudly received my second pilgrim’s stamp.
The next stop was to find my hostel. Thank God that was easy enough, as well. It was very close to the passport office. My feet, back, butt, thighs, and toes all screamed in pain as I shuffle-crawled to the reception desk. On the floor next to it was Cheater, among a few other bags, waiting for me as if to say, “Where have you been all day?”
“You didn’t think I would make it, did you?” I silently smirked at him, overjoyed to see my bag was actually there. “Well, ha! You were wrong.”
Looking around as I waited my turn to check in, I could see it was a brand-new inn. The receptionist, a young but curt woman, had no trouble finding my reservation and quickly handed me a room key. Third floor!
Looking at it, then at Cheater, I asked her if there were an elevator. She smiled condescendingly at me, as if I had just asked the most ridiculous question of her ever. She shook her head, then finished with gusto: “No!”
Okay then, I thought, realizing once again that Cheater was my responsibility and that my baggage was mine alone to carry. Not sure I could manage to move him given how spent I was, I nevertheless thankfully took the key and headed for the stairway, dragging Cheater behind me.
With one last push of inner resolve for the day, as if channeling Hercules, I lifted the bag and stomped up the stairs without stopping, ignoring all the reasons I couldn’t do it, because I had no choice but to.
Five minutes later, I was settled into my brand-new, complete-with-hot-shower-and-blow-dryer, gorgeous, wonderful, welcoming, sunny room—bags and all. I felt as if I had arrived at the Ritz-Carlton. My totem friend Gumby, proudly sitting next to my bag, seemed to agree.
I had never been so grateful for a bed in all my life.
When I checked in, I was told that dinner was served at 8 P.M. If anything, that was early for Spain. I was starving, but there was nothing to be had for hours, so I ate another PowerBar and decided to take a nap.
I woke up the next morning.
Day 2
(22 km; 14 mi)
Roncesvalles to Zubiri
Oh my Gawd—pain! I woke up barely able to move. Every muscle in my body hurt. And I was starving. The honeymoon with the Camino was over. I couldn’t believe I had to do this all over again for 33 more days. AAAWWWW!
Once I managed to sit straight up in bed, I eased myself onto my feet and gently walked over to retrieve my hefty first-aid kit. Thank goodness I didn’t have any blisters on my feet, but I was so sore I had no idea how on earth I would be able to walk through the mountains for an entire day all over again.
The first thing I reached for was arnica. Many friends had told me it would help with pain. I had never used it before, so I prayed it worked. I had the extra-strength kind, for which I was grateful, and loaded up on that.
Then I began to rub muscle cream all over my calves and thighs. And my butt. I couldn’t believe my butt hurt as much as it did. And my toes, which were tender to the touch. I had to rally. I had to be out of my room in the next 30 minutes.
Once the muscle cream started to take effect, I was able to move a little more freely. Thinking about yesterday’s wild weather, I chose to put my long underwear on, even though the sun was shining brightly at the moment. I got dressed and then put on my boots. Only once I shoved my foot into my boot, I could barely stand the pressure on my toes. I hadn’t planned on this, and so soon into the walk. So much for my expert boot fitter, I thought sarcastically. My boots don’t fit at all.
I sat back and wondered what to do. I had to keep walking. My solution was to take some Tylenol, shove my boots on my feet, and just get up and go, hoping the pain would ease as I walked. I was used to ignoring pain. In fact, I had actually prided myself on how much pain I was able to withstand without complaining. I’m just like my father, I realized as I shoved on the second boot. Limping toward the dining room downstairs, I was soon distracted by the lovely breakfast spread laid out before me at the buffet.
There were freshly baked croissants and large pieces of bread with jam. There were slices of apple and pear in syrup, and a bowl of small oranges to the side. There were trays of salamis and ham, and others filled with various cheeses. There was also fresh orange juice and yogurt. All the things I loved to eat. Unapologetically loading up my plate with as much food as it would hold, I was met by a waitress who asked if I would like some coffee. Ordering a café con leche, I happily sat down to dig in.
After stuffing myself to the brim, I headed back up to my room to fetch Cheater and bring him down for transport. Before I zipped up, I reached in and grabbed a few PowerBars to eat along the way. I did some quick math. I had brought 75 bars with me, which allowed for just over two a day. I had already eaten ten since I left Chicago and was only two days into the Camino.
I hope they have a market along the way, I thought, or I won’t have enough bars to last the entire way.
I wasn’t too worried about it, however. I knew I would be passing through several towns and even large cities, and could eventually pick up anything I needed. It’s just that I loved my chocolate-mint PowerBars and quite fra
nkly didn’t want to run out.
“Conserve, Sonia,” I said to myself. “That’s the theme for today. Conserve your energy and your PowerBars. Take it easy, and you’ll be okay.” I walked back to the dining room to fill up my water pack that I wore around my waist before I set off. Once it was full, it was surprisingly heavy. I then also filled up my stainless-steel water bottle and clipped it to Pilgrim. I now had plenty of water until the next watering hole.
Checking to see that I had everything I needed for the day’s journey ahead packed away in Pilgrim, including sun hat, warm hat, gloves, sunblock, iPod, camera, rain poncho, neck bandana, and warm windbreaker, I was satisfied. And ready to go.
I sleepily stepped outside the hotel and was promptly slapped in the face with a brisk, stiff wind. Suddenly I was wide awake.
Sunny or not, it was freezing outside. So I stepped back in. I put down Pilgrim, and unzipped her. I then pulled out my neck bandana, the warm windbreaker, and rain poncho and put them all on. I also pulled out my warm gloves and hat and zipped up again. Now I was ready to go.
When I stepped outside this time, it seemed suddenly warmer, until I realized that, duh! It wasn’t warmer. I was dressed warmer. Step-by-ginger-step I started searching for the yellow Camino arrows pointing out the way. After only a few yards, I looked up to see a big road sign that said, “Santiago, 790 km.” Just past that I saw the yellow arrow.
Before taking another step, however, I paused and said a prayer to set my intention for the day:
Holy Mother-Father God,
Please oversee my walk today and help me make it to Zubiri. Guide my attention to the yellow arrows and keep me from getting lost. I also ask for help in keeping my heart and mind open to receiving all Camino blessings throughout this day.
Thank you.
That said, I was ready to go, and starting singing “I’m Off to See the Wizard” just as I had yesterday. I guess it was the “yellow” thing that inspired me. Yellow brick road. Yellow arrows. It worked for me. I even did a sort of scarecrow jig since there was no one looking. It made me laugh.
I didn’t want to think about the 790 more kilometers I had to walk. That felt too daunting for my miserable toes. I decided I would only think about what I had to walk today. That was far more manageable. My destination was a town called Zubiri, 22 kilometers away. After yesterday’s trek, that sounded easy breezy. I was optimistic as I started down the path.
It was beautiful outside and I was taken with all the activity going on both above and below me as I walked. The trees were filled with various birds, while mysterious critters I couldn’t see rustled in the brush underneath my feet and just out of sight.
Soon enough I found myself surrounded by fellow pilgrims flanking me on either side, some walking alone, others in pairs, some in groups, all undertaking this pilgrimage for reasons of their own, in unison with me.
I quietly observed their different energies as we walked. There were athletic men who almost seemed to run rather than walk down the path. There were chattering young people who seemed oblivious of the difficulties the path laid out before them, their nimble bodies cruising along without the least bit of effort. There were a lot of people riding their bikes on the path, as well. I guess you can ride the Camino on your bike as opposed to walking if that is your preference and still receive a pilgrim’s certificate at the end. Given the steep climbs and descents, and the uneven ground beneath my feet, I marveled that bikers would even want to travel the Camino this way. It seemed like a miserable thing to do to me.
Most of the bikers were clearly Tour de France athletic types, as their designer spandex revealed every inch of their ripped bodies. I wondered if the Camino for them was an athletic conquest rather than a spiritual journey. It was still difficult to navigate, in any case, even on a bike.
As I passed several groups of pilgrims, I wondered about their reasons for being here, as well. They joyfully chatted and laughed, and seemed more into each other than the path itself.
Not that I was judging. I was just wondering what the Camino meant to each one.
I had been on the road no more than 30 minutes when the weather abruptly changed and it clouded over and started to rain once again. This created a dense, low fog that shrouded the path, and between the fog and the rain, the route became very slippery and difficult to forge. There were so many wet, uneven stones that unless I kept my head down and watched every single step I took very carefully, I would slip on the rocks and fall down, which I did, several times. Thank God for my hiking poles, as they saved me more than once.
Today was proving to be much more challenging than yesterday. The ground was unstable and shaky, which was the same way I felt inside, too. The expanded and loving state I was in yesterday had completely evaporated, and was nowhere to be found.
I was thrust into survival mode today, and it didn’t leave me in a good mood.
Given the difficulty of the walk, I am not surprised that what surfaced in my mind were all the people I had recently ended relationships with, and how difficult these endings had been for me. One friendship that I ended was with a girlfriend I had known since I was 12 years old. Two had been with people I had worked and traveled with. Another was a girlfriend of the past decade, and of course, the big one was my marriage.
Why were so many significant relationships ending at the same time? Was it them? Or was it me? Given my frame of mind at the time, I had come to the conclusion it was them.
All had shown a self-serving side that I somehow had been blinded to up until recently. It is amazing that I can see other people’s needs and soul energies so clearly when it comes to my work, and yet still “miss the forest for the trees” in my own personal life. Patrick had always marveled at how I was unable or refused to see obvious “BS” energy in some of the people I had invited into my life over the years. I thought he was unkind and unloving. Maybe he was just clear, and I was delusional.
It’s frustrating when you are possessed by a pattern because you can’t really see it until it becomes so obvious that it smacks you in the face. I had a long-standing pattern of choosing friends who were really manipulative and ended up tricking me and letting me down. It all started in second grade when my friends Leslie and Stephanie asked me to help them with their schoolwork, then left it to me to do it while they conspired to dump me behind my back as soon as they turned it in. I was so heartbroken that it took years for me to get over it. I guess I was just sensitive.
The names changed over the years, but my pattern and the end result pretty much stayed the same. I created relationships into which I invested my full heart and soul, only to be let down and left behind, blaming myself for whatever went wrong.
All of my failed adult relationships were with people who had not had much success, and because of that felt that someone owed them something. I volunteered myself to be that someone, over and over again.
Maybe it was my karma to do that, to be the fairy godmother to the people whom I now wanted to get as far away from as possible. Maybe in my past lives I was a real jerk and ripped them off and now owed them one. Maybe they were past lives that had to do with the Camino. As I thought of this, something inside me seemed to say, “Yes, it was, and yes, you were.”
“Well, at least I am here clearing that karma now,” I said out loud to the Universe.
As I walked, I couldn’t seem to get into a rhythm. Every step felt dangerous. I kept turning the same ankle and banging my toes. Ouch!
Today the walk felt funky, similar to the energy of some of the people I had just cut out of my life. The more I walked, the more resentful I became. Why did I keep falling into the same trap?
These negative thoughts that were being shaken out of my bones surprised me. I didn’t want to think such dark thoughts. I didn’t want to think about the friendships I had decided to end. I had already let them go. I guess I could forgive them. I certainly knew in my heart that doing so would be the best thing for my spirit. In many ways I already had
and hoped they had forgiven me as well. But I must not have forgiven them enough because right now I still wanted to be angry, and … hmmm, what was it I was feeling? Disappointed. Yes, that’s it. I was so disappointed in them.
I walked with this feeling for a while, slipping and sliding and cursing and catching myself with one of my poles, struggling to keep from plunging down the never-ending descent that was this day’s walk.
Disappointed. What an obnoxious energy that was. It reminded me of the grade-school nuns in the Catholic school where I attended, and how they used to shake their heads at me and say—over the slightest infraction, such as laughing in class or not getting a 100 percent on a paper—“I’m so disappointed in you.” Ugh!
Eventually I began to feel the arrogance of being “disappointed.” After all, who was I to have some standard of behavior that others should adhere to? Who was I to be “disappointed”?
I had never openly discussed my expectations with any of these friends. I just assumed that people were supposed to behave in a certain way (determined by me, of course) and, if they didn’t, they greatly disappointed me.
I began to look at these ended friendships (or “endships,” as my friend Mara in Chicago called them) from a new perspective. While still happy to be freed of relationships with these people, I could see how I had no right to be disappointed in them.
They simply were who they were, and I had no right to think I could, should, or would change them. Suddenly I felt arrogant and self-righteous. How obnoxious I must have seemed to them, I realized. Essentially, my attitude was, “Be my friend and live the way I want you to live so I won’t be disappointed.”
Not that I ever said that or even consciously thought that. I didn’t. And yet the more I walked, the more I realized that I did, at least unconsciously, imply and expect that. No wonder those friendships blew up in my face. They were not connections based on love and acceptance of others for who they were, or vice versa.
Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed Page 8
