Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed

by Choquette, Sonia

  My butt hurt from riding the horse yesterday, making walking a bit more painful than usual. I looked around my room. I missed Gumby. Silly as he was, he kept me company on the Camino. “Oh well, Gumby. Rest in peace,” I said. His disappearance was just another Camino lesson. For me this one was about how, in the end, we must let go of everything we are attached to, because nothing remains except for how much we chose to love in our lives. I was just sorry Gumby had to be sacrificed for me to learn this lesson.

  I was moody. Part of it was pure fatigue and the fact that I was now certain that my feet were permanently trashed. I was sure I would never wear high heels again. Even the thought pained me as I shuffled across my minuscule room to get into the shower.

  The water was steaming hot and took the chill out of my bones. Being at the summit, the walk ahead was downhill all day. I wasn’t sure if that was good news or not for my knee. I looked over and saw my walking poles. Thank God Camino Patrick let me have them. They turned me into a four-legged walking machine and helped stabilize my knee on tricky terrain such as I would be facing today.

  Next I looked at my walking gloves and the penny my dad gave me sitting on top of them, where I had placed it last night. “Morning, Dad. Ready to go soon?” I asked him out loud. I could feel his loving presence with me now so strongly.

  As I dressed, I wondered what it was like in heaven and how my brother was. I had been feeling his spirit, as well, off and on over the past few days. “Say hi to Bruce Anthony for me, Dad, and tell him I love him,” I said.

  Two seconds later a beautiful butterfly landed on the ledge right outside the bathroom window. I felt it was my brother’s spirit saying, “Thank you.”

  Breakfast was okay. The croissant was not fresh, but the toast with jam and butter tasted good. And they had fresh-squeezed orange juice for one euro more, so I asked for two glasses of it. My strep throat was long gone, but a chest cold had settled in and I welcomed the juice to help fight off my cough.

  After breakfast I reached into Pilgrim and pulled out my little purse with my passport and got it stamped before I set out for the day. Just as I was dragging Cheater up front, the man who was to transport my bag walked into the hostel, took it from me, and carried it to his van.

  I was happy to see Cheater settled into his ride, as it made for one less thing to worry about today. I stuffed my little purse back into Pilgrim, verified that I had two of my remaining four PowerBars with me, then pulled on my hat and gloves and set out.

  The sky had clouded over already and it looked as though it was about to rain again. Whatever, I thought, long used to the rain and accepting that it was probably going to follow me all the way to Santiago.

  Holy Mother-Father God,

  Please keep my moods from settling in and weighing me down.

  Help me stay present to this moment and the beauty and power of this day.

  Amen, and thank you.

  As I descended, I was flooded with beautiful memories of times going back to childhood. I remembered how my father taught me to drive by taking me to the mountains outside of Denver, where we lived. I had just gotten my learner’s permit and showed it to him one Saturday morning. He took one look at it, then spontaneously said to me, “Get in the car.” He then drove us about 30 miles outside of Denver to the top of a mountain, and parked. Next he turned to me and said, “Now you drive us home.”

  I freaked out and said I couldn’t, but he just said, “Quit your whining. Let’s go.”

  So that’s what I did. I got behind the wheel of our 1967 VW Bug, turned on the ignition, engaged the clutch, and with a sharp jerk, we took off. He didn’t say much to me except, “Take your foot off the brake. Slow down by shifting.” I did as I was told. Occasionally he said more sternly, “Don’t ride the brakes, or you’ll burn them out.”

  “Okay, Dad. I won’t.”

  If he was scared, he didn’t show it. Finally, I made it home. It was one of the happiest experiences of my youth. “Thank you, Dad!” I screamed as I hugged him, relieved and proud that I had succeeded. He just smiled and walked into the house.

  I hadn’t thought about this occasion since it happened, but I could see now that on that day he put his complete faith in me. What a vote of confidence that was! Since he trusted me that day, I learned to trust myself and have ever since. That is probably why I have been so brave and so willing to try things I’ve never done before all my life, including this pilgrimage.

  As I walked, even more positive memories from the past came flooding into my consciousness, most of them now concerning Patrick and all the fun we had when we were married.

  I remembered some of our solo trips, including one across from Spain to Tangier on a day when the seas were so rough nearly every passenger on the ship got seasick. I was so grossed out at all the “yuck” all over the place I was miserable. Patrick pulled from his backpack a pair of rubber covers for his shoes, which he always carried with him, and gave them to me to put so I wouldn’t have to stand in it. He was so chivalrous.

  I also remembered the time we were in Assisi, Italy, with our daughters, who were only five and six at the time. It was foggy and cold, and we pretended we were transported back to medieval times. After a while we ducked into a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, where we had the best pizza in the world while listening to local musicians playing a lyre and dulcimer.

  Remembering all of these great times together, I composed a letter to Patrick in my heart, acknowledging all that he had brought to my life. I could suddenly see how the pattern my father had of ignoring my gifts had been passed on to me. I didn’t acknowledge Patrick’s gifts as much as I could have either. I felt sad about that. It would have been so easy to celebrate him more, and I failed to do it enough.

  The longer I walked, the steeper the descent.

  The path was spectacularly serene. It wound through farmland, where I shared the path with herds of cows. I also saw grazing horses looking at me from behind the fences along the way, checking me out.

  At times the path followed sections of the busy road, then wound back into fields of flowers and trees. I didn’t see a soul for most of the morning and was free to reflect only on nature and my own thoughts.

  In these past three and a half weeks of silence and solitude, it became more and more evident that while my life circumstances had been challenging, my thoughts were what caused me the most difficulty. Letting go of the thoughts that didn’t serve me and taking away only love from all that passed was what mattered now. It was all I wanted to do and hoped that I could.

  I looked back over my marriage and only wished I had been able to love both Patrick and myself more while in it. I could see how not having the space and time I needed to take care of myself contributed so much to our problems.

  Having all this time now to be alone, to be in nature, to review my life from a place of quiet, deep reflection made it much easier to find my way to peace, to compassion, to acceptance, and to love.

  We both needed more time and space to find our way back home to these things. Both Patrick and I had come from large families living in small quarters, so private time and space to be alone was not an option when we were young. It was something neither of us knew we needed. It would have made a difference if we had.

  I knew now that I would never give that up again. Simply being alone to work through my grief, feel my feelings fully, and move the energy through my body while walking this magical path had healed so much in me. The more I walked, the more freedom from the past I felt.

  About halfway to Triacastela, the path turned upward again, and the climb was steep. I huffed and puffed my way to the top under the bright burning sun, but this time I felt supported by my angels. I could also feel both my father and my brother championing me. Every 500 feet or so I heard, “Good job, Sonia. Well done. Keep going. You’ll make it.” It was so loud in my head that I thought I was hallucinating.

  I have always strongly felt and sensed and heard my spirit guides in my heart
, but nothing like this. I was surrounded, some pushing from behind, others pulling me forward. If anything, it felt a bit crowded on the narrow rocky path.

  “Okay, okay,” I finally said, bursting out laughing. “I’m doing it!”

  At the top I happened upon a little oasis of a café overlooking the valley below.

  I went in and ordered an egg bocadillo (yes, I know, it’s pitifully unimaginative, but I’m a creature of habit) and a big, cold Coke. Then I stepped outside to find a seat in the warm sun while I waited for it.

  Next to me, I overheard a young woman sitting with her father saying she had a sore throat, so I offered her the lozenges I had carried with me since Carrión, which she gladly accepted. Turning around to sit down, I then saw Clint and Dean emerge from the steep climb, looking as delighted as I had been to see the café right there. They plopped down next to me and caught their breath.

  Just then the waiter brought out my sandwich. It was huge. I looked over at them and said, “Would you two like to share this with me?”

  They needed no convincing, going inside to fetch Cokes of their own while I managed to cut the sandwich into three parts. Still piping hot, it was delicious.

  At that moment I was filled with gratitude for simply being alive. The Camino had stripped away all that was unnecessary, all that was superfluous, and left me knowing that we have all we need, all the time, if we can only recognize it.

  Refreshed, one by one, we got up and started on our way again.

  We had a ways to go and the steepest descent was still ahead. Walking got trickier, but at the same time, the path got even more beautiful. As I walked, the Camino started talking to me again.

  Love is always here, it said. You don’t have to fear not having it. You are in the flow of love, and it is in and around you all the time.

  Listening, I realized that while I had resigned myself to my divorce and felt very sad about the failure of my marriage, I also carried a big fear that I would never experience or find love again in my life from here forward. I had never felt confident in my love life to begin with, and the fear that I would never experience love again was now bubbling up from deep inside me.

  “Will I find love again in my life?” I asked the Camino. “I sometimes doubt it, you know. I surely don’t want to look for it, or even want to feel I need it, but I wonder.”

  We all need love, it answered. You don’t need to look for it, though. It is right here. Look around and feel it. Just receive it.

  “But what about that ‘in love’ feeling?” I asked. “You know, that feeling you have when you are with someone you really love to be with?”

  You are the one who gives you that feeling, it answered.

  “Are you suggesting that I settle for being okay not being in a relationship?”

  Whether or not you are in a relationship with another, feeling love for yourself and being filled up with the love of the Universe is what you truly seek.

  “I believe that, but I will still face life alone when I get back. Or at least I’ll most likely live the rest of my life without a partner. I can’t deny that.”

  The Camino was silent. Then finally it said, You are never alone. Your mind tricks you into believing things that aren’t true.

  “But I will be unmarried.”

  The Camino listened but didn’t answer.

  Soon I wandered up to the most ancient, gnarled, huge tree I have ever seen. I felt compelled to sit at its base and rest. I closed my eyes and leaned up against it, very gently. I asked it, “Do you mind if I rest here, leaning up to you?”

  It seemed to say, “No, go ahead.”

  As I sat against it, I felt my heart being fed and grounded by its strength and pure, unconditional love. It calmed and quieted not only my mind, but also my entire nervous system. It took away my anxiety and yearning for anything or anybody.

  I sat and meditated under the tree for a long time. I was in no hurry to get where I was going. I was happy to be right where I was. Being at the base of the magnificent, ancient-looking tree erased all of my worry for the future. Sitting there, I knew I would be okay. I knew we all would.

  I’m not sure how much time passed as I sat there, when suddenly I was awakened out of my reverie by a cool breeze telling me it was time to continue.

  An hour later I arrived in Triacastela. I had made it one more day.

  Day 29

  (21 km; 13 mi)

  Triacastela to Sarria

  I woke up this morning and saw that it was raining again. Resigned to continuing on my wet, soggy Camino, I got dressed for the day. I bundled up and had breakfast, got my passport stamped, then headed out.

  Holy Mother God,

  I am open to learning all that serves my spirit and helps me better serve you today.

  Amen.

  The walk was quiet as I strolled along, but about two miles into it I realized that, even though it was raining, it was actually quite warm outside. With all the layers I had on under the big plastic bag called my poncho, I was suddenly so hot I almost passed out. It was like walking in a sauna.

  I stopped and began to disrobe, almost down to my underwear. I took off my wool shirt, and down vest, and headband, then rolled up my pants into shorts and took off my poncho. I didn’t care if I got wet. I was dying.

  Stripped down to a more comfortable level, I resumed walking, and as I did I began to notice huge black, slimy, gooey slugs all over the path. I looked ahead. They were everywhere. The Camino was giving me a very important message by placing these in my path today.

  My mind started saying, Slugs and leeches. Slugs and leeches. The more I saw, the more I began to reflect on people in my life who had been—and were still—slugs and leeches.

  These were people who didn’t take responsibility for themselves. People who were deadbeats and didn’t pay their bills or tell the truth. These were people who promised what they didn’t deliver and didn’t think they had to. People who were more interested in what they could get from others than what they could offer.

  I could see how I had entertained so many of these slugs and leeches because I didn’t have strong enough personal boundaries to say, “Go away. I’m not interested.”

  I carried these people way too often and way too far. Who knows why, really? I just did.

  As I walked, I knew it was time to stop hosting such people in my life. People who were not really interested in showing up with integrity, for example. Or people who were more committed to drama than to creative solutions. Or people who felt sorry for themselves and expected others, like me, to rescue them from their own emotional BS. I knew that I had allowed way too many of that kind of person to take my energy and drain my spirit. It clearly was time to let go of the slugs and leeches in my life.

  “Thank you, Camino. I get it,” I said out loud, dodging the gross, slimy creatures as best I could without stepping on them, which wasn’t easy, as they were everywhere.

  But the longer I walked, the more I began to realize that the real slugs and leeches in my life were not people, but rather my own unexamined thoughts dragging me down and draining me of my joy.

  I thought of how these negative, self-condemning thoughts and beliefs just rode on my energy, contributing nothing, while stealing away my life force, my joy, my peace, and my sense of self-love. They sucked my spirit dry.

  The message was clear. It was time I paid closer attention to what I was allowing in my life, whether people or thoughts. It was time to be rid of what did not uplift my spirit. It was time to love myself that much. No more slugs and leeches, on any level.

  Eventually I came across a sweet little place along the path that looked like a church but wasn’t really. The door was open, so I walked in. It was very small inside. There were a few chairs, some small paintings of nature on the walls, and several lit candles, but no one was around. At the front of the single room, on a small stand, was a Bible opened to a highlighted passage that said, “Trust in the Lord.”

  I read it
several times, then sat down and prayed for a while. I realized that this passage was what the Camino was about. It was a journey away from fear and wounding and into healing and trust in the Lord.

  A short time later a man entered the room and introduced himself, saying his name was Ernest. He then asked me if I would pray with him, to which I happily agreed. Then he took both of my hands and said a prayer of gratitude for my being there. I was so touched and surprised that he would do this, and felt honored and loved in his presence.

  After our prayer he shared with me that he had come to the Camino from England ten years earlier, so troubled and saddened by his life that he almost wanted to end it, and when he had finished the Camino he was healed. After that he realized that he had the means to walk away from his old life and came back in search of a way to serve future pilgrims. So he found this place and began doing his artwork and receiving pilgrims along the way. It was his bliss and he was serene and peaceful ever since then. I gave him a hug and he wished me a “Buen Camino,” and I was soon back on my way.

  Shortly after, I entered a section of the Camino where everything seemed strange and magical and out of this world, and I found myself totally turned around. I couldn’t find the arrows anywhere. I was lost. I continued on a bit farther and came to several forks in the road, a heavy mist in all directions. I was confused and didn’t know where I was or which way to go.

  There was not a soul around, so following my instincts I took the path to the left, where eventually I came upon a clearing with what appeared to be a work shed of some sort.

  As I got closer, I could see that the shed was attached to a house with an open door, so I called out. Then I boldly walked in, hoping to ask for directions back to the Camino. Inside was an older, scruffy, Spanish-speaking man with sparkling eyes, wearing a red bandana for a headband, who invited me into his kitchen to have a coffee. I don’t know how, as he was speaking mostly Spanish, but I understood every word he said.