So right then, I took both pairs out and decided to leave them on the path. I had seen shoes that had been left to die on the Camino along the entire way. Maybe some of those people needed new shoes to replace their dead ones. I put one pair on the tree stump next to me and another across from it, for pilgrims behind me to find. They were brand-new and maybe would be welcomed by someone who had just had a shoe blowout. I hoped so.
This now took even more weight off my back and left me with very little to carry in Pilgrim other than my iPod, my few remaining Band-Aids and blister creams, my water bottle, and my down vest. I was dropping so much weight now and it felt great. Even my pants were falling off as I left the past behind.
Eventually, just when I was running out of steam and didn’t think I could walk any farther, I dragged my weary self into Palas de Rei, where I was going to stay for the night. As I walked into the town, I could hear a band in the distance playing the most lively Celtic music, complete with bagpipes and drums. The deeper into town I got, the louder it became, until I walked up to my hostel and saw that the music was coming from there.
A big wedding party was under way; and everyone was out on the lawn laughing, singing, and dancing to the music, celebrating the happy occasion.
I took this as a sign of new love and life, and to happen upon it and enjoy the celebration vicariously was a wonderful way to end the day.
Moments later I checked in and found Cheater patiently waiting for me in the lobby. I was then shown to my room, as this hostel was spread out among several buildings and I was in one located in the back. Once I settled in, I went outside again and sat in the sun, enjoying the live band and watching the party continue.
Eventually Camino Patrick came wandering up to the hostel and said he was staying at the pilgrims’ albergue a little farther into town, but came to see if I was staying here. Happy to find one another once again, we decided to have dinner together in the hostel restaurant. We sat in the sun a little while longer and shared a glass of wine while waiting for the dinner hour to come around. Fortunately, it was only an hour away, as the hostel was sensitive to tired pilgrims who needed to eat early.
Just as we were about to be seated, Johnny and Allen came strolling in, and once they saw me, they came over and asked if they could join us for dinner. Patrick didn’t seem too keen on the idea, but I didn’t mind, so I left it to him to answer. He hesitated for a minute then said, “Of course, please do,” and moments later we were all seated around a small table in the corner of the hostel restaurant looking over the menu.
Once we ordered and wine was served, Johnny and Allen started talking. To our shock, they complained bitterly about the hostel, the menu, the weather, and the price they paid for the accommodations, and then began attacking American politicians, corporate America, England, Germany, the Church, other pilgrims, and more. This was all in the first 15 minutes after sitting down! The next thing I knew they were slamming the President, and Americans in general, causing Patrick to rise up in patriotic defense of everything they were attacking. Soon a tense argument ensued, with sniping back and forth on the part of all three men.
I was appalled at what was happening, as it shattered my Camino calm and tranquility, leaving me to wonder if Johnny and Allen had any idea this was a spiritual pilgrimage. Several times I attempted to temper the conversation by bringing it back to more neutral territory, but Johnny especially seemed to be just warming up to his assaults and was in no mood to change the subject or take notice of his effect on either Patrick or me.
Finally I attempted to stop the barrage by directly asking them to change the subject and direction, explaining that having been on this long contemplative journey I was not available to participate in the conversation at hand. But they only rolled their eyes at me and smirked.
Rather than taking this in, they turned their negative energy on full force toward me now, as they not only ignored my request, but carried on even more aggressively than before. Again I politely asked them to stop and change the direction of the conversation. I assured them that while it wasn’t personal, I simply wasn’t available to listen to what they were saying right now.
All the while I was thinking, What the hell is the matter with them? I hadn’t experienced anything like this from anyone the entire time I had been walking, and it really caught me by surprise.
After my second request to change the subject, I was met with stony silence on their part, accompanied by sideways stares of resentment, while Patrick seemed to now want to not only come to my defense but also to the defense of the good American people. So moments later, off they went at it again.
It was crazy to be surrounded by this toxic energy after walking my way into such a serene inner state of being over the past month. I had just finished my soup when I realized the evening was not going to improve, and if anything, with addition of more wine, it was only going to get worse. So I suddenly got up, offered a “Buen Camino” to all, and went back to my room. I was as surprised as they were by my exit, but greatly relieved to be away from the negativity and combativeness that I had just escaped.
“What the heck was that?” I asked myself as I got back to room, scrambling for any last bits and pieces of PowerBar left in Pilgrim or Cheater. I wondered why the Camino gave me that unexpected and toxic experience. Perhaps it was to give me a chance to fully experience the devastating impact negative energy has on people.
Perhaps Allen and Johnny were two Camino angels sent to remind me to be extremely mindful of my own temptation to be negative from now on.
Perhaps they showed up to mirror aspects of myself that could be equally negative that needed to be brought to light so I could pray and meditate to clear them as I walked tomorrow.
Perhaps they were a very loud and clear warning to get away from negative people as soon as possible and not allow them to drag me into their vortex.
All three thoughts felt right, and I was grateful for the experience and awareness even if it did catch me off guard and leave me feeling a little rattled. That’s how the Camino had worked for me.
I felt a little guilty leaving Camino Patrick there with them, but then I figured he could take care of himself. I didn’t have to protect him. He could have left just as easily as I did. I wondered if he did.
Too tired and hungry to analyze it any further, I went to bed, figuring the sooner I went to sleep, the faster I could get up in the morning and eat. I closed the shutters to my room, which made the space pitch-black, and after praying for a while I passed out.
Day 32
(28 km; 17 mi)
Palas de Rei to Arzúa
Transition. That was what I woke up feeling today. The energy of transition. Today was one of the last three days before I was to complete my pilgrimage to Santiago, and I had so many mixed feelings rolling around in me because of that. Part of me didn’t want this journey to end because it had been so incredibly life changing in every way: body, mind, emotions, and my more deeply awakened spirit. Another part of me was quite aware that today’s walk was long and moderately taxing, and I was worried about my feet. They really hurt.
I also thought a lot about transitions and how uncomfortable they made me feel because they left me so ungrounded. I was not quite done here and not quite able to begin there, so had to balance between the energetic push away from what it was time to end and the pull toward the next experience, and wait.
As I ate my breakfast, I realized why transitions caused me to feel this way. It’s because when I’m in transition, I am not in control of things. In transition, I must surrender control over to trust and faith.
Transition times are dangerous. If you don’t stay focused, crazy things can happen. I could lose my footing, or get lost, or something else. I had to remain alert until the end.
“I also have to beware of sentimentality,” I told myself. “I can easily think, I’m so sad this is ending, rather than embrace it comfortably, knowing as this ends my spirit is now preparing me for new e
xperiences, which may be equally meaningful.”
Who knows? I thought as I ate my toast. My mind likes to scatter shadows across my inner landscape when I’m not certain. It’s all a game to distract me from the moment. Still, the thoughts were intense.
Drinking my café con leche, I thought about the changes I would be facing once this pilgrimage was over. So many questions now flooded my mind. Would I be able to hold on to the profoundly healing insights the Camino has gifted me with? Or would I fall asleep again and back into the old patterns that caused so much pain and drama? The Camino gave me these gifts. It was now up to me to call them my own and make them a permanent part of me. I wondered if I could.
I decided the best way to move through this uncertainty of what lay ahead was to stay very present to the path before me and just focus on the walk today. Ever since I began this pilgrimage, there were times when I had to climb and climb, only to crest the hill and descend just as quickly. It made me aware that it’s best to set my intentions and then trust my spirit and God rather than think ahead too much. Life goes up and down and sideways and sometimes in circles, but if I just stay present, I can respond well enough to it all without playing out worst-case scenarios as a means for my ego to feel in control.
So on that note I got up, finished my juice, grabbed Pilgrim, and headed out, not wanting to stir up more anxiety than was already tumbling through my brain, shaking off those thoughts and more as I zipped up my jacket.
As I walked I intentionally noticed as much as I could with each step, asking my guides and angels to help me remember not to get ahead of myself today or in the future. I wanted to be in the moment and soak everything up in the now, trusting that the future would take care of itself.
I prayed and prayed as I walked, asking for help from the Holy Mother-Father God, all my angels and guides, my family on the other side, and especially my father and brother, so that my transition from the Camino and back to my life in Chicago would be graceful and filled with ease, and not a return to drama and fear.
Thankfully, I knew enough and had grown enough throughout my life, and especially throughout this pilgrimage, to now place my full and complete faith in God and the Universe and surrender all personal control over to God’s will. I felt completely safe to do that now.
Perhaps this was because I no longer felt the old pain and grief in my body that I had brought to the Camino. I came purely on my intuitive guidance, with no expectations. But if I’d had any hopes for the Camino, how I felt today would have far exceeded them in every way. Walking the Camino had freed me of the bondage that holding on to anger and resentment had kept me in. It was gone. My karma felt cleared.
I also felt a surprisingly deep wave of love and affection for Patrick right now. I could see how much pain from his own past kept him trapped, as it had me, and all I felt for him was compassion and understanding for why he acted as he did. We came together in this life to help each other get free of this old pain and karma, and we had to jar it loose in one another so it could move on. Of that I was certain.
My healing was happening now. I hoped it would happen for him, as well. I had no way of knowing, of course, but I intuitively felt that if he was no longer fighting with me, he would be able to relax and turn his attention back to himself and his own heart in a kinder and more loving way. I wanted that for him. And I prayed for it.
As I walked, the sky went from sunny to overcast, which I liked because it made for pleasant hiking. I thought about endings quite a bit, contemplating those that are natural completions, those that I resist, those that are thrust upon me, and those that I choose, perhaps thrusting them upon others as well.
I became clear on how we cannot hold on to anything other than fear or love. We have to choose. I chose love, but fear kept trying to grab back on. I was so glad I could walk it off today. It made me aware that I would never be completely over fear. I would face it every single day. I just had to move through it when it showed up and not allow it to grab hold of me.
The path continued to be so beautiful as I walked that I felt as though I were in nature’s private spa. The colorful wildflowers, birds singing, strong scent of grass and hay, and even the cow dung were all so healing to my spirit. I soaked in as much as I could, and started looking forward to arriving at a town called Melide, which was halfway to Arzúa.
Even with my hearty breakfast, after going to bed with only soup for dinner, I was now starving. I had heard there was a particularly good restaurant in Melide, which was famous for their grilled octopus, called esquival, so that’s where I headed.
The thought of grilled octopus made the long walk fly by, and shortly before 1 P.M., I walked into the door of the restaurant. To my delight, there sat Camino Patrick, who looked up and smiled at me. I was so glad to see him, after bailing on him the night before.
“Patrick! How was the rest of dinner last night? I am so sorry I left, but I just had to,” I gushed all at once.
“It was as bad as the first half,” he said and smiled. “What a couple of creeps!”
“I know. It was strange to meet up with that kind of energy here on the Camino, wasn’t it? It’s good to be made aware of just how potent negativity is before we finish this pilgrimage, don’t you think? So we won’t be guilty of spreading it around ourselves once we leave the Camino.”
“That’s one away of looking at it,” he said. “Still, I hope I don’t run into them again because if I do, I plan on ignoring them.”
“I understand,” I said, setting Pilgrim down next to me. “Been here long?”
“Only for an hour,” he answered, winking, “waiting for you.”
“How did you get here so fast? I’m not racing, but still I am not going slowly either.”
“I leave early. People are up so early in the pilgrims’ albergues I just get going, too.”
“Well, then you must be as hungry as I am. Let’s eat octopus!”
Afterward we wandered through the town. It was Sunday and there was a huge market going on, with every kind of dry goods and food imaginable. We strolled around and looked for a place to get our passports stamped. We were told to go to the church for that, so we did. A mass was going on as we entered, so we felt obligated to stay until it was over, as everyone there turned and glared at us as if to say, “How dare you interrupt.”
After the mass was over, I walked around the church. It was a particularly intense place, with a statue of Christ dressed in purple robes in one corner, looking very much like a statue of Dracula, blood dripping all over. Whoa!
There were some other statues, including of Mother Mary and some saints, looking equally ominous, and I wanted to see them all.
Looking up, Patrick seemed far less taken by this place and stood in the back waiting for me, so I quickened my pace and headed toward him so we could go. I could tell Patrick was a bit agitated. I asked him if he was okay, and he said he was just worried about finding a pilgrims’ albergue that night. So we abandoned the stamp idea and continued on our way.
The path was all over the place and so was the weather. It went from warm and overcast to cold and rainy every 30 minutes. We put our rain ponchos on, took them off, put them back on, decided not to put them on, got soaked, then put them back on, and then off, for hours.
It was frustrating, but we laughed about it rather than let it bother us. Patrick was also experiencing serious pain running down the front of his legs and said he could hardly stand it.
I had brought some painkillers along with me that I never used, so I offered him all of them. He took them, hugging me with gratitude.
The afternoon walk dragged on and on. Talking and walking made it go a little faster, but the more it dragged on, the more worried I became about making it to Arzúa, as my feet were now in agony. Between the two of us we were a mess, and we laughed at ourselves because of it, two old geezers crawling to the end.
Eventually we arrived in a town called Ribadiso, which was a welcome sight. That meant we were get
ting closer, as Arzúa was only three or four more kilometers away.
As we entered the town, we saw many pilgrims we had both met along the way sitting around a small terrace drinking beers and calling it a day at this point.
There was a huge pilgrims’ albergue there, and I strongly encouraged Patrick to stay, but he wanted to accompany me all the way to Arzúa, so he declined. No matter what I did I couldn’t get him to change his mind, so I stopped trying. He had a beer and I had a Coke and some fries, as I was now starving again. No sooner did our order come to our table than it started to rain again, this time pretty hard.
We grabbed our stuff and ran under an awning and waited. Five minutes later it stopped.
We stayed and chatted with a few other pilgrims that Patrick knew, and then I said I needed to keep going, as it was getting late and I was worried my feet wouldn’t make it all the way. With that said, we were off once again.
Those last few kilometers were torturous. Rain was now steadily pouring down as we wound our way out of the fields and forests and into a long stretch of dreary town that eventually spilled out along a highway. It seemed as though we kept walking and walking and walking without advancing a single step.
“So much for not wanting the Camino to end,” I said to Patrick. “I changed my mind!” I yelled out loud to the Camino. “Please end! At least for today!” Patrick just looked at me and shook his head without saying a word.
We continued following the yellow arrows for another hour before we finally saw signs of hotels ahead, and eventually stumbled into the one where I was to stay. Patrick checked to see if there was a room there for him as well, but the innkeeper said that sadly, there was not.
I felt terrible about that. He didn’t seem to mind as much as I did, saying there were several more hostels down the street, so he would keep going and find one in no time. We then hugged each other and said, “Buen Camino,” and agreed that we would meet at my hostel tomorrow night, as it would be the second-to-last night on the Camino, and he wanted to walk with me into Santiago.
Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed Page 32
