Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed

by Choquette, Sonia

  He rode past me several times, catching my eye and glancing at me sideways with a slight smile. I started to wonder if he might be an angel. The thought dropped in from out of nowhere, but the minute this came to mind, I got a chill all over my body. I looked around to see where he was, but he had disappeared. I sat down to eat my picnic lunch and waited for him to return, but he never rode by again. “Okay, Camino. I got the message. All is well. Thank you,” I said aloud.

  I packed up Pilgrim and stood up. The rain started up again, so I grabbed my poles, pulled my poncho back over my head, and got going.

  Soon the path began to change. It was no longer flat, and I found myself climbing up and down rolling hill after hill. The ground was covered in round, wet rocks that were as slippery to walk on as ice, causing me to fall down again and again.

  In addition, there were deep rivers of muddy sludge all along the path, no doubt caused by the weeks and weeks of rain that had been coming down. It took my full attention to navigate every step, as I didn’t want to fall flat on my face and get soaked in the muck more than necessary.

  I found myself jumping from side to side, leaping over little rivers of mud, reaching for tree branches for balance in order to avoid stepping into the ankle-deep puddles, as I slowly inched my way along, feeling as though I were playing a solo game of Twister as I went.

  I couldn’t lift my eyes from the ground in front of me, as one false move could potentially throw me to the ground. I walked this way for quite some time, eyes glued to the path. One time, I slipped off a rock and onto my side, jabbing my rib with my pole. Pilgrim flew off my back, catapulted ten feet from me by the weight of my big rock inside, and landed squarely in a pool of mud, Gumby ten feet farther. Because I had on my rain poncho and rain pants, I instantly became a human Slip’N Slide, bumping down the path for several feet before I ran smack into a tree stump lying across the path. I sat there stunned for a few minutes before I first cursed, then laughed, then stood up and went back to collect my strewn-about stuff.

  Once I composed myself I set off again, the round rocks thankfully giving way to jagged flat ones as the ground evened out again, leaving me to return to the serenity of the morning. Orchards dotted either side of the path; the tree trunks were covered in moss, a dense mist swirling all around as if dancing through them. I could sense the nature fairies and sprites watching me as I continued slowly onward.

  I was being pulled back into that other reality I had fallen into again and again. I wondered if the Camino pulled you into this other realm, or if I allowed myself to enter another realm as I walked. It didn’t matter. I was in it and it was enfolding me completely, as if I were being wrapped up in a warm, comforting blanket.

  Eventually I came upon a makeshift pilgrim shrine. To one side was a full-size homemade statue of a pilgrim, with a mask for a face, fully dressed in real clothes, wearing a hat and carrying a large walking stick. Next to him stood a large metal cross sitting atop a small mound of round stones left by previous pilgrims. He felt like an energetic gatekeeper, marking the entry to an entirely new dimension of the Camino. I looked around and found a large round stone and left it amidst the others, marking my own passage through here.

  The path was made of red dirt and stones, flattened out even more, with occasional bluffs here and there. The weather had lightened up considerably, and it was now sunny but cool. Even so, I stopped and pulled off the several layers of clothing I was wearing and stuffed them into Pilgrim, as I was now drenched in sweat.

  The mud on the path had dried up and while the stones were still tricky to walk on, I wasn’t as bound to watch my every step as I had been a few hours earlier. I could now look up and out and see the expanse before me. I was starting to feel lighter and happier. At the moment nothing mattered. Not the past. Not the future. I was fully present, and my spirit was peaceful.

  I felt as if I were part of nature, not just looking at it. I was connected to everything, not alone. My ego was watching, but it was silent. I felt fully awake and alive, not burdened with my stories or my wounds.

  At around 3:30 I found myself at the end of the ancient Roman road as I came to the edge of Astorga, my destination for the day. I crossed over the train tracks, then came to a simple church. I entered and found myself awed by the stunning interior. Mother Mary looked down upon me from the altar, and I said a prayer of thanksgiving for having made it yet another day. Then I remembered that it was Patrick’s birthday.

  Holy Mother God,

  I thank you with all my heart and soul for overseeing me this far. I also want to say a special prayer of thanks for all the gifts I have received from Patrick. Today is his birthday, and for his present, I release him from my anger and resentment, and pray with my whole heart and soul that he may find his happiness and inner peace. I am grateful for all the help you have given me to arrive at this present state of mind. I pray that he has the happiest birthday he can possibly have.

  Amen.

  I went to the front of the church and lit a birthday candle for him and sent him unconditional love. “Thank you, Patrick,” I whispered. “Happy birthday.”

  I sat for a little while longer and said a rosary in thanksgiving for all that I had experienced so far on the Camino. Then I got up, grabbed my poles, and continued on into town, until I came upon a beautiful plaza at the top of a hill. I saw my hostel right away, thank goodness, as the minute I spotted it thunder and lightning suddenly crackled in the sky, followed by a huge downpour, the biggest one yet of the Camino.

  Day 24

  (19 km; 12 mi)

  Astorga to Rabanal del Camino

  I woke up early, ready to get going once again. I was about to head back up into the mountains and wanted to get an early start, as I knew it would be a long ascent. My body felt great, with the exception of my miserable aching feet. It worked well enough to keep going. I couldn’t stop now.

  I opened the wooden shutters over my window and peered out into the plaza below. It was still pouring rain and I could see pilgrims, their backpacks bundled under rain ponchos, looking like a pack of huge, slow-moving turtles, all headed in the same direction.

  I hopped into the shower, enjoying the hot stream of water pouring down my back, knowing that the minute I stepped outside it would be cold and miserable for who knows how many hours. I then dressed as warmly as possible and packed up Cheater. Next I stuffed Gumby and my little purse into Pilgrim, keeping my passport out so I could get a stamp. Then I headed downstairs with Cheater in the elevator (yeah!) at the end of the long hall.

  The restaurant was located next door to the hostel, so after I deposited Cheater with the front-desk receptionist, I took the coupon she handed me and headed over, starving. The breakfast was disappointing. The toast and coffee were cold, and the juice wasn’t fresh, and as hard as I tried to enjoy it, there was nothing about it I liked. I knew from overhearing other pilgrims that it was a fairly gradual climb up to Rabanal, with several cafés along the way, so I gave up trying to like my breakfast, unzipped Pilgrim to make sure I had a few PowerBars to carry me over, and headed out. The rain had stopped and now the sun was peeking through the clouds.

  Holy Mother God,

  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I’m off once again.

  Amen.

  I held my big rock one more time, before I threw it into Pilgrim. It was really heavy and I wondered if I had overdone it in choosing this rock since it was so hard to carry. No, I thought, it felt just right. I wandered through the town and back toward the Camino, following the other pilgrims instead of looking for yellow arrows. Soon I passed the magnificent cathedral at the other end of town and stopped to take some photos. A German pilgrim offered to take my photo, which I gladly accepted, then I took one of her. I approached the church doors to go in, but it was (not surprisingly) locked.

  It only took a few minutes to get out of town and on my way. The scenery was as haunting as yesterday. There was a dense, knee-deep soft mist covering the ground for as far as
the eye could see. I sensed the nature spirits peeking out from behind the trees, whispering to each other as I walked by.

  Every few minutes I had to stop and take photos, as I couldn’t believe how mystical this all was. I felt enchanted.

  While there was fog and mist all around me, inside I was getting more and more clear. Today I felt so much compassion for every single person in my life that I cried for almost two hours as I walked. I could see how each person was only doing the best that they could, and how I had a pattern of continually asking people to be more than they were, and then becoming disappointed. I also was keenly aware of how much I didn’t listen to others, and I felt so sad about that.

  Perhaps it was because I grew up with a mom who was essentially deaf, due to a hearing loss she suffered during the war; and from her, I learned to listen to energy, to vibration, to my intuition … but didn’t ever put a great deal of importance on what was actually being said. I had never thought of that before. How frustrating that must have been for people in my life. In many ways, I had become as deaf as my mother was, filtering my awareness to listen to what I wanted to hear, and not necessarily to what others were communicating. That was one of Patrick’s main complaints about me and now, finally, I recognized that it was true. I didn’t listen to much of what he said. No wonder my relationship with him got into so much trouble.

  “I’m sorry, Patrick,” I said aloud, hoping that his spirit would hear me. “Part of what heals the spirit is to be heard, and I didn’t do that very well with you, did I?”

  I also became more aware of all the wonderful things he had brought to my life, like all the wonderful meals he had so lovingly prepared for me and our family, and the gorgeous gardens he created for our home. And the ways in which he introduced me to camping and biking and canoeing and how to pick out and put lights on the best Christmas tree. And, of course, our two beautiful, amazing daughters. My father taught me great lessons, too, for that matter. He taught me how to stay focused and finish any job I started, how to fix just about anything that broke, and how to be resourceful and resilient and not allow life to beat me down, ever. I had been given so much by both of them, much of which I had completely missed or wasn’t able to receive because of my wounded and defensive ego. The exciting thing was that in recognizing what had happened, I felt as if I were actually receiving these gifts now.

  It wasn’t too late to receive the love of others, even if my marriage was over, or my father had passed away. The love they had for me hadn’t gone away. It was still present and real.

  If that were the case, then, all the love I had ever shared wasn’t lost either. In fact, I suddenly realized that love is never lost. It doesn’t go away. It waits for each of us to receive it when we are ready to.

  So much of what I had suffered felt like a lack or loss of love, when, in fact, it was my inability to receive love because I was so overwhelmed by the painful ways in which my ego had cut me off from it that was the real problem.

  I was loved. We all are. And have been. And will be. All of us. Always.

  I looked around as I walked, feeling love everywhere. Everything around me was breathing in love and breathing out love. The trees. The birds. The flowers. The rocks. And me. I had been the entire time. I was love, even if my mind took me far away from that truth. It was such a sublime feeling that I was afraid to think about it too much for fear it would go away.

  It got colder and colder the higher I went, and after a while I had to look for a café just to warm up and rest. It took another hour, however, to find one. Finally I entered a little town called Cruces, where I stopped in a café for a café con leche. I was in such a contemplative mood that I just sat and stared into space as I drank, my dripping rain poncho by my side, Gumby at the table, and Pilgrim at my feet.

  I was in a strange state of mind. I felt as if everything in my life were connected, like a weird matrix that was constantly shifting and changing. I felt the full impact of cause and effect, choice and result, throughout my entire existence. I felt this thread through my past lives, my present life, my family, my father and brother, my work, my daughters, my travels, my books and teaching, and my relationships, including and especially with Patrick. It was all connected. And moreover, it was all enveloped by absolute love.

  This sense of dynamic interconnectedness had begun to become clear yesterday when I decided to ask God for forgiveness for not loving myself. It intensified as I walked, the path itself peeling away more and more of the old pain from my body, revealing a fresh new me underneath. My heart was returning to its original condition. I was healing and all was slowly being forgiven, by me, by others, and by God for all of us. Something amazing was taking place in me as I walked, and I knew it was the Camino itself that was causing this. The energy of the path was transforming me.

  Slowly drifting back to the present, I began looking around to see who might be there. I noticed an older Spanish man at a table nearby struggling with his foot, and saw that he had a humongous blister on his heel and looked as if he were in tremendous pain. Since I carried a lot of blister remedies in Pilgrim each day, I approached him and offered my assistance.

  He was reluctant to take any help from me, but once I showed him my huge array of blister bandages and creams, he quickly changed his mind. I carefully applied a little hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball to his open wound, and then plastered the blister over with large moleskin that covered the entire area. He looked somewhat relieved, but I wasn’t sure it was because he felt better, or if it was just the knowledge that he didn’t have to walk any further with his raw skin rubbing against his boot. I then got up and wished him a “Buen Camino.” I was on my way again.

  The walk became steeper and steeper. It also got colder and colder, and I was freezing as I walked the last few kilometers. My rock felt heavier than ever and it pulled on my shoulders as I carried it in Pilgrim. Finally, I arrived in the tiny hamlet of Rabanal. I had only just entered and begun to look around when I came face-to-face with Camino Patrick.

  We ran and gave each other a great big hug. I was so happy to see him. I thought I would never see him again. He told me that he had made such good time that he had been there for two days. I just shook my head. How did he do that? I was moving as fast as I could, and I could barely make it to the next town each day.

  In Rabanal there was a little monastery run by German monks, and they had invited Patrick to stay with them and rest for a few days. He had developed an intense pain along the front of both of his legs and could barely sleep at night because it was so bad, so he gladly accepted their invitation and was there for his second of three days, hoping the rest would bring some relief.

  He walked me to my hostel, an old Swiss-looking chalet of a place, and waited while I checked in. Cheater had not yet arrived, but I was assured he soon would. We then agreed to meet at the 6 P.M. pilgrim mass in the monastery church. I invited him to have dinner with me, but he said that he was having dinner with the monks and didn’t want to disappoint them. I understood, so we sat down and had a beer and talked for over an hour before I told him that I needed a nap and would see him in an hour for the mass.

  By then Cheater had arrived and I hauled him to my room, which was on the third floor. Suddenly he didn’t seem as light as he had two days ago. I eventually made it upstairs, settled in, changed clothes, and relaxed. I couldn’t really nap because I was afraid I would sleep through the mass, so after a half hour I went back downstairs to have a Coke.

  There I saw three more pilgrims I had walked with along the way. The first were Victoria and her son, Eric. She was faring well, but he had torn a muscle in his ankle somehow and refused all manner of remedies offered him, preferring to tough it out naturally. She was exasperated with him, and he was annoyed with her. I offered him my remedies, but before I could even let him know what I had, including natural ones, he refused. Clearly his was a Camino of penance and he did not want anyone to interfere.

  His mother rolled her eyes a
nd snapped at him, “You are such a control freak! I can’t stand it.”

  I tiptoed away. This was clearly not a conversation for me.

  I talked with some of the others until it was time for mass. There I listened to the most eloquent German priest say mass in English, with certain parts in five other languages. He ended by wishing all the pilgrims a “Buen Camino,” then said if any of us wished to speak to him after mass he would make himself available. I decided I did.

  We talked about my marriage ending and my desire to move on in peace. He listened and then said, “Just let go and love him. That is what you promised to do when you married him. Try that and give the rest to God.”

  I promised. I would just let go and love him in my heart. I felt I could do that now. I would also love me. That would be the new part. I thanked him, and he blessed me and gave me a hug.

  I met Camino Patrick, who was waiting for me outside the church, and wished him well. I told him we would meet in a few days, and we came up with a plan. The next thing I knew I was in bed, having skipped dinner in favor of a PowerBar. I was peaceful and just wanted to go to sleep. Tomorrow I was walking to the highest point of the Camino, Cruz Ferro, where I would leave the big rock I had been carrying and the burdens it represented. I was ready.

  Day 25

  (32 km; 20 mi)

  Rabanal to Ponferrada

  I woke up early this morning, ready to begin the long ascent up to Cruz Ferro.

  I knew it was going to be a long, rigorous walk, so I layered up and stuffed two of my six remaining PowerBars into Pilgrim, just to be prepared for what lay ahead. I then packed up Cheater and headed down to the first floor. I managed to get Cheater down to the second floor when an Argentinean biker saw me struggling, so he took him from me and carried him down. It was a good start to the day.