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 experiences, 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 getting 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.
He then stepped back into the pouring rain and disappeared. I asked for Cheater and went to my room. Dinner would be served next door in an hour, so I had time to dry off, and change my clothes. What a long and winding road it was today.