Today started out with the sun shining brightly, but it was really cold. I was so happy for my pillow and sleeping bag last night, as there was no heat in my room and what they offered for a pillow was more like a thin towel. It didn’t matter. I slept like a rock.
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.