Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed

by Choquette, Sonia

  After a quick breakfast of coffee and toast and a glass of fresh orange juice, I asked for a stamp for my passport and went back up to my room to grab my poles, Gumby, and Pilgrim. I then pulled on my wool cap and gloves, pulled my headscarf over my ears, and stepped out into a stiff, frigid wind under dark, cold skies. I was ready to go.

  Holy Mother God,

  Please let me release all my burdens at the top. Even the ones I still want to hold on to.

  Amen, and thank you in advance.

  The steep walk challenged my knee from the first step, but I just kept going. As I climbed, one slow step at a time, I reflected once again on just exactly what was burdening me, as I really wanted to be sure I didn’t forget something. I had come too far on this pilgrimage to miss the opportunity before me.

  The top notes of my thoughts cited the usual complaints: too much work, responsibility for what was not mine, years of what I felt were unfair experiences, not feeling loved and appreciated as I had wanted to be. It was nothing new.

  Yet, the more I walked, the more apparent it became to me that while those were things that made me unhappy, they were not at the root of what burdened me.

  What burdened me most had been my own fear and anger, even rage over these things and more. I’d been burdened by not trusting others to be good to me. I’d been burdened by the belief that I could trust only myself to be responsible and then made choices to support that belief. I’d been burdened by the false belief that I had to work and never stop because I was taught that working hard is what love looks like. I was burdened by the belief that I had no right to the full range of my feelings or to healthy boundaries. I was burdened with resentment and bitterness over things past. These were the real burdens in my life and what I wanted to unload from my heart. It wasn’t what had happened, or who made it happen, that burdened me. It was my own emotional confusion and lack of forgiveness toward all that pained me, which weighed so heavily on my heart and kept me from being happy and peaceful today.

  The climb was intense, and I was shocked at how cold it was outside. But I didn’t mind. After a few hours I came across a small café and decided to stop and warm up. My fingers were freezing and I was getting very hungry, my breakfast longed ago burned off.

  When I stepped inside, I was surprised to see so many familiar pilgrims standing around a roaring fire in the fireplace in the middle of a large room. Clint and Dean were there. So were Hans and Peter, and Linda. I also saw Victoria from last night, but I didn’t see her son, Eric, anywhere. I asked about him and she rolled her eyes.

  “I left him behind this morning,” she said. “I had to. We have been fighting since we started the Camino. In fact, I think that is what I am here to unburden myself from today. His control and neediness are strangling me. I needed to get away, so I told him I would meet him in Santiago if he makes it.”

  I applauded her decision and wished her a “Buen Camino” as she stepped past me and out into the cold once again. I looked around before I sat down. It was an old hippie establishment, complete with peace signs, incense, and tons of Camino T-shirts and memorabilia for sale—all of which I wanted. But I knew that I couldn’t take this experience with me, so I didn’t buy any of it. Then my eye was caught by a small deck of cards called The Way, made up of insights from previous pilgrims who had walked to Santiago, offering advice from the Camino for the journey through life. I pulled a card from the deck. It said, “Don’t fear the criticisms of others.”

  That piece of advice made me think. I have been severely criticized all my life for being intuitive and making it my vocation. I have been criticized for being an outspoken and strong woman, accused of not being feminine enough. I have been criticized for being playful when I taught my workshops, told I was not worth being taken seriously. For most of my life, I was criticized just for being me, and while it hurt me, it didn’t stop me. Rather than collapse under all that criticism, I just fought back. Now, I didn’t even want to do that. I just wanted to ignore the criticisms of those who didn’t like me, or approve of me, or “get” me and carry on in peace. That would be wonderful. That was what I would pray for today.

  After drinking a cup of hot chocolate and eating my last PowerBar of the day, I put my gloves and hat back on, reached for Pilgrim and my poles, pulled my poncho back over my head, and headed out. I was being called to the top.

  Today marked a turning point in my pilgrimage. For over three weeks now, my walking had dredged up the deepest wounds from my past and shaken them free from both my psyche and my bones, along with the long-held pain, sorrow, and grief that they had trapped in my body. Today was my opportunity to release all of it, from my body and from my life. This was the day to leave the past behind and open my heart to living fully and freely in the present.

  The fog became thicker once I was back on the path, the cold intensifying along with it. I finally reached the summit, and through the fog I could barely make out the huge iron cross that stood at the top of the mountain. But it was there. I had arrived at Cruz Ferro, the place to unburden myself and ask for forgiveness.

  Approaching the cross, I was taken aback by the massive amount of small stones and talismans, prayers and pleas, piled high all around it. It was surreal to see the world’s prayers and pain all symbolically left behind in these offerings. There were photos, teddy bears, letters, little shrines made of stacked stones, shoes, rosaries, and more, each item representing someone’s heartache.

  Looking at everything reminded me of how painful the human experience is and how we, as humans, cannot avoid this pain. There is no way around the human condition. We can only experience it as bravely as possible.

  We cannot feel love unless we open our hearts, and yet, when we do open them, they can and do get broken. It just works that way. If we close our hearts off, however, as a means of protecting ourselves, and cover them over with anger and rage, we break our hearts from the inside. If we look to others to give us the love we are not giving ourselves, we become frustrated and disappointed and often feel rejected, creating even deeper wounds than before.

  Only when we love ourselves fully and forgive all the people and experiences that have caused us pain, both inside and out, can we truly heal and find inner peace. There is no other way. We cannot avoid the pain of life, no matter how spiritually awakened we are. Life involves loss. It is impermanent and messy and causes suffering. Only when we feel our pain, feel our losses, and allow our feelings to move through us, and then onward, are we able to heal and live as fully empowered beings in the moment.

  Looking at the mountain of grief left behind by so many others, I realized I had no need to feel ashamed for hurting. I had no need to feel like a failure because I got angry and scared. As spiritually conscious as I was, I was still human, and still had to experience loss and suffering like everyone else.

  It was not allowing myself to freely feel my losses that caused me to get stuck. It was denying my pain over and over again that made it explode. In walking the Camino I had now felt it all, and because of that, my pain was moving on. It wasn’t stuck inside me any longer. I could honestly say I was leaving my pain and my karma behind, while at the same time, as I walked, they were also leaving me. We were done.

  I placed my huge rock on the pile and thanked all the people who had touched my soul, now and in lives past, for the lessons and the love they brought me. I released my rage, my hurt, my emotional pain, and underneath it all, my fear, and asked for and offered forgiveness for everything in my past. The minute I placed my rock at the foot of the cross, I could feel my last bits of pain tumble out of me and onto the ground. All that was left in its place was gratitude.

  Just before I left, I took Gumby from my pocket and sat him on the rocks. He had been a good touchstone for me, helping to keep my spirits up and my humor alive when all I felt was lost. I took a few pictures of the two of us together so that I could leave everything behind with a smile. I then got on my knees and prayed for everyone in my life, thanking
their spirits for their contribution to my human experience. I stayed a few minutes longer, but it was bitter cold and I felt there was no need to linger. I picked up Gumby, put him in my pocket, and got ready to go. It took a moment or two to find the path in the fog, but I did and slowly began the steep descent.

  As I started down, the icy wind blew in my face with such relentless ferocity that it felt personal. And yet, rather than fight it, I let it scour off the remaining barnacles of hurtful beliefs and behaviors that I still subconsciously clung to.

  “Go ahead!” I screamed to the spirit of the wind. “Do your work. Blow it all away.”

  I felt as though I were being bathed in pure love. In spite of the cold, a gentle, warm energy was now touching those deep places of hidden sadness and terror in my heart that for so long had held on to the harsh and frightening experiences from my past, both in this life and long before. I was healing.

  The cold was refreshing. The flowers along the side of the path were magical. My heart was becoming free of some old and very ugly and painful stuck energy. I finally descended below the cold and fog and emerged into a vast mountain valley. It was incredible. The past was behind me. I was now free.

  Day 26

  (23 km; 14 mi)

  Ponferrada to Villafranca del Bierzo

  I woke up early in Ponferrada, still absorbing all that had happened yesterday while walking from Rabanal to here. Once I emerged from under the cold cloud on the top of the mountain after stopping at Cruz Ferro, I walked for miles and miles through the most exquisite mountain valley, filled with every imaginable kind and color of flower. It was breathtaking.

  My heart sang and I felt as though I had just shed several thousand years of karma. Words cannot capture the bliss I felt. It was like I was stoned. Every one of my senses was amplified. The colors surrounding me were so brilliant and complex I had to stop every few hundred feet or so to stare at them. The sky was crystal clear and the birds were singing so loudly I wondered if I were hallucinating. Maybe I was. Or maybe this is how the senses work when we are not buried alive in the stale energies of past experiences and the grievances that often come with them. The sweetest fragrances from the flowers washed over me, and that, too, made me marvel, as I had long ago lost my sense of smell. Not on this day, though. I could smell everything.

  I was so present and alert it felt as though every cell in my being were turned on full volume. Yet I was peaceful, quiet, and relaxed. Is this how we are supposed to feel all the time? I wondered. Is this the kind of feeling we have when we are very young and uncomplicated?

  All I knew was that I was at one with my surroundings and nothing came between me and the beauty and calm of the glorious present. While I had a long way to go to my next stop, I purposely walked slowly so I could savor this incredible experience. I wanted it to last.

  A few hours later, I wandered into the small village of Molinaseca. I was suddenly starving and had to stop and eat. When I entered the café, it was standing-room only. I patiently waited my turn to order, not really wanting to talk. I was afraid if I spoke to anyone, even if only to order my egg bocadillo, I might slip out of this serene state I was in, and I wasn’t ready to leave it.

  The waiter at the counter, a young kid of no more than 15 or so, understood this, as I held up the menu and pointed to what I wanted when it came my turn to order. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. Then he asked if I wanted something to drink with a motion of the hand. I pointed to Coke on the menu. He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

  I looked around. Some people were talking animatedly. Others, like me, stared into outer space as they reflected on the experience of the morning. A young woman got up from a table nearby and left, so I set Pilgrim down and took a seat. It felt good to rest. I didn’t realize how tired I was until my butt hit the chair.

  “Ahh,” I sighed, relieved, relaxed, and ready to eat. Two minutes later my sandwich was presented at the counter. I got up, grabbed both it and my Coke, and sat down once again. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to go back down that rabbit hole that had brought me to the point of such pain in the first place. I just wanted to rest and be.

  I sat for some time, yet I knew I had another eight kilometers to go before I arrived in Ponferrada, so eventually I forced myself to get going. I grabbed Pilgrim, got my passport stamped, and headed out. The sun was shining so brightly by now it was hard to believe that only a short while ago I was inching my way through freezing cold and dense fog.

  The lower I descended on the path, the brighter and warmer the day got. Soon I had peeled off all of my layers and was drenched in sweat. What a day of contrasts. As I walked I could feel something else peeling off of me as well. Old karma from those soul experiences I had as a Knight Templar. I could feel the heaviness and rigidity, that somber dark energy, with its stifling intensity, lift off my bones and drift into the light. With it I could sense guilt and judgment and all the other negative emotions in my soul disappear. In their place was a lightness of being like I had never before experienced. I had somehow burned off my karma and was now free to live fully and happily in present time.

  The path wound down the mountain for miles before reaching the city below. Finally the road turned abruptly and revealed the magnificent Templar Castle, built in the 12th century. I had no idea it was there, and seeing it made me gasp. It was like something out of a fairy tale. It towered over everything, and the minute I saw it I recognized it with every cell of my being. I just stood and stared. I was spellbound.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I first find my hostel then come back to visit inside? Should I just go in right now? I was confused. Looking up at the massive structure, I decided that I would cross the moat and drawbridge and enter right then. Only to my surprise, once I crossed the bridge, and approached the entryway, I discovered the castle was closed. I was strangely relieved. I was not to go in, not then anyway.

  I walked away and looked at the castle from down below once again. I then walked across the plaza and went into the tourist office and asked what time it would open tomorrow.

  The woman inside shook her head and said that it was closed tomorrow as well, and would not reopen until the day after. I walked out, shaking my head, taking this all in. I then walked to a café just across from the massive structure and sat down. I knew the doors where closed to me because my energetic attachments to the Templars were now over. I was not supposed to go backward, not even to visit the castle. I was to keep moving on. It was perfect.

  I closed my eyes and felt the warm sun on my face. The cold and gray had disappeared as well as all the heavy energies that I had carried with me for all these lifetimes. I ordered a glass of red wine and sipped it slowly. It tasted so good. I then ordered a pepperoni pizza and ate the whole thing. Finally I had an ice-cream cone. It was time for a graduation party.

  After that I decided to walk around the medieval town. Everything was closed as tight as a drum, and I figured out it was Sunday. The cafés were open, but not the shops. That meant I couldn’t even buy Knights Templar memorabilia, which was on display in the window of every shop surrounding the castle. The past was over; my new holy adventure was in the here-and-now.

  A bit farther into town, I found the cathedral. I walked in and sat down to say a rosary in thanksgiving for closing this heavy chapter of my past forever. It was dark and sad, and hard to see anything. But then another pilgrim placed a coin in a slot to one side of the altar and it lit up, almost like at a movie theater, revealing a magnificent multilayered, carved tableau filled with ornate versions of saints, surrounding Mother Mary in the center. Soon a frail, old Spanish woman came out from the sacristy and lit the candles on the altar and left. Shortly after this, bells rang and a mass began. I looked around and saw about ten very old Spaniards in attendance, as well as a sprinkling of pilgrims. I stayed through the mass and then lit candles for everyone in my family.

  Afterward, I wandered back outside and made my way toward my hostel. It was a
simple, old hotel just up from the castle and located on the plaza. I walked into the lobby, only to find a soccer match was blaring on TV with no one watching. In the corner stood Cheater, waiting patiently for me to pick him up.

  No one was in sight, so I walked to the receptionist’s desk and rang a small bell sitting there. Moments later, a young woman came rushing from the kitchen to help me. After checking in, I went upstairs to find a comfortable room, with a fairly new bed, warm blankets, and heat, although today I had to turn it down. It was too warm in the room. Exhausted, I lay quietly on the bed. What an incredible day. I could hardly believe all that had transpired in the expanse of only seven hours. It felt as if I had just been in a time warp, as lifetimes had passed before my eyes.

  I was spent, so I promptly fell asleep.

  The next morning the town was still quiet when I woke up. I took a shower and started to get dressed when I noticed that sitting on top of my hiking gloves was a bright shiny American penny, the kind my father used to give me as a child. I heard his voice, “Remember, Sonia, in God we trust.” I burst into tears, as I knew my father had placed that penny there while I slept. There was no other way it could have gotten there.

  “Dad, thank you,” I cried. “Thank you for walking with me. Thank you for all the lessons. I love you so much.” I had to sit down and regain my composure, as I was overwhelmed with my find and the love that had just poured down from heaven and throughout my body.

  “Okay, Dad,” I finally said as I finished getting dressed. “Let’s go.”

  I had a quick breakfast and got under way. After only ten minutes of walking, I left the surreal realm of medieval Ponferrada and entered into a very different reality. Modern Ponferrada was gray, dreary, and took forever to get out of. I yearned for the calm beauty of the Camino more than ever before as I inched my way out of town.