I woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread and hot coffee, so it didn’t take much to draw me out of bed and downstairs, not even bothering to change out of my nightclothes. Once downstairs I was thrilled to find a delicious Spanish omelet with fresh stewed tomatoes, served alongside a basket filled with still warm bread and homemade jam, and a steaming hot café con leche waiting for me on the dining-room table. Moments later, my wonderful host, Marcella, entered the dining room and after wishing me a cheerful “Buenos días,” handed over my freshly washed and folded laundry and asked if there were anything else she or her husband, Miguel, could do for me before I set out on the Camino today.
Thinking about my few remaining PowerBars, I asked if they would mind if I took a little bread and cheese with me for the walk. Ten minutes later I was handed a carefully packed picnic, complete with bread, cheese, fruit, jam, ham, and chocolate. I happily accepted their offering and stuffed the package into Pilgrim, grateful to have something new to eat today. Receiving was getting easier by the day.
I went upstairs and took a long, hot shower, then packed up Cheater and got ready to go. As usual, it was raining and cold, so I threw on warm clothes, glad that I hadn’t left my long underwear behind several days ago. Then I went back downstairs to enjoy one more cup of coffee before I set out for the long walk ahead. It was so cozy at this farmhouse I wanted to say for a week.
A few minutes later, Miguel carried Cheater down to the first floor for me and assured me that someone would soon be there to pick him up and deliver him to the next hostel. I was grateful not to have to carry Cheater down myself, even though he had lost a considerable amount of weight since we started out on this journey together. I had too, it seemed, because I’d had to take the shoelaces from my (useless) lightweight hiking shoes and tie my belt loops more tightly together this morning, as my pants were beginning to fall off. Lingering a bit longer, I asked them to stamp my pilgrim’s passport, then took some photos of them, wanting to remember their kindness long after this adventure was over.
It was now time to go, so I asked them to point me in the direction of the Camino, delighted to find out that it was directly out their back door. I gave them both a big hug as they wished me a hearty “Buen Camino.”
Once on the path, my heart was peaceful as the Camino led me through more flat farmland along the railroad tracks, under rainy skies. I was so grateful for the simple kindness and love shown me last night that today I felt as though I were the luckiest and most blessed person alive. Even my white hiking shirt was not only returned to me freshly washed, but also ironed, for heaven’s sake. They treated me with such respect for making this pilgrimage—I couldn’t believe it! The love I felt was so healing that much of what had troubled me over the past few days ceased to matter. It felt good to step into this higher vibration and keep moving.
Eventually I came across an incredible stone bridge leading into the next town. I stopped and read about it on a sign. Called the Puente de Órbigo, it was one of the longest and oldest medieval stone bridges in Spain, dating back to the 13th century, and built over an even older Roman bridge that existed for centuries before. It was considered one of the great historical landmarks on the Camino, and I could see why. Its 20 arches led me across the Río Órbigo along what was known as the Paso Honroso, or Passage of Honor, because of a famous jousting tournament that took place there in 1434.
According to legend, a knight from León named Don Suero de Quiñones, scorned by a beautiful lady, threw down his gauntlet to any knight who dared to pass as he stood defending the bridge, and also his honor. Knights came from all over Europe to accept his challenge, yet he successfully guarded the bridge from passage for 30 consecutive days. Then he continued on to Santiago to say prayers of thanks for his newfound freedom from the bondage of love that had held him in misery, now feeling that his honor had been fully restored.
I thought about the knight Don Suero and the bondage he had felt to the one who had scorned him. It’s true that we bind ourselves to the ones that hurt us if we cannot forgive, and because of that we continue to suffer long after the wounding has occurred.
That is what forgiveness is all about in the end, isn’t it? I thought. Releasing ourselves from what holds us in bondage?
I, too, wanted freedom from bondage, I thought, as I walked over the bridge. And like the knight Don Suero, the only way to achieve it was to fight what had stolen it away. I had to fight off regret and bitterness. I had to fight off confusion and judgment. I had to fight off shame and embarrassment. But what I had to fight off most of all was the isolating and distorted “victim” perceptions of my ego.
It was time to release myself from these dark feelings, because nothing good came from them. Nothing. They didn’t bring me peace. They didn’t lift my heart. They didn’t make me feel better. They just made me feel sad and worthless and unloved. It was the worst kind of bondage a person could be in, and I wanted no more of it.
As I walked I also came to realize that to truly forgive, I needed more than to just understand why things had happened as they did, although that did play an important part. I understood all along in my marriage that I was facing my own karma and my own spiritual tests. I also understood it was my choice to be born into the family I was born into, for the spiritual lessons and opportunities this family offered me. I even understood that it was I who chose all the relationships I had been involved with in my life in order to learn certain soul lessons for my own spiritual growth.
I had even mentally forgiven everyone who had hurt me, and wanted them to forgive me as well. I didn’t want to be bound by my ego’s perceived injuries anymore. It’s just that in spite of my understanding, I was still in pain.
What I wanted now was to turn it all over to God and be relieved of the pain in my heart and soul. I wanted to be forgiven for holding on to the pain. I wanted to release all of it so I could fully feel and receive all the love available to me now. I wanted to forgive myself for cutting myself off from the love that God and my Higher Self had for me. That is what this Camino was about. That was the forgiveness I sought.
I came back to the moment. The bridge spilled into a medieval town. The rain had subsided to a light drizzle, so I slid off my poncho hood so I could better look around. It felt as though I had stepped back in time, and once again I flashed on the Knights Templar. I felt as if I had been here before. It wasn’t even a thought. It was more like a déjà vu. I had crossed this bridge and might have even been part of building it.
I walked off the bridge and into the center of the town, named Hospital de Órbigo. It was very early in the morning, so the entire town was shut down and there was hardly a soul in sight. I did notice, however, a funny-looking little man riding up and down the small cobblestone street next to me on a bicycle that appeared way too small for him, wearing a bright yellow-orange vest that said “Security,” which seemed a bit out of place since there was no one around that seemed threatening. But then again, I had come to realize that every single thing that appeared on the Camino had a message for me, and if that was so, his appeared to suggest that I was safe and protected.
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.