I woke up at six the next morning to a crowing rooster, coming out of dream in which I was engaged in a deep conversation with a medieval scholar, maybe a monk, about entering the Order of the Knights Templar. In my dream I was asking what I had to do to become one of them. He took me to a library and was showing me old books I had to read to prepare for my “tests” when my natural alarm clock sounded.
I lay there thinking about my dream and wondering what my soul connection to the Knights Templar actually was. I’d had strong feelings, from a very young age, that I was somehow connected to the Knights Templar, but no matter how much I tried to remember just exactly what this connection was, the door to the part of me that might shed some light on this question remained mostly shut, allowing in only small snippets of remembrance that were hard to piece together. The feelings I carried in my heart around the Knights were heavy and oppressive.
I got up and turned on the light. I felt surprisingly refreshed and very hungry. I waddled over to the heater to check on my clothes. They were toasty warm. I opened the shutters covering my window hoping to see sun, yet was once again met with gray sky and heavy rain. Disappointed, I decided to be grateful for the rain. At least it makes it easier to walk the Camino, I thought. If it were really hot outside, it would be far more difficult.
Once I got dressed, I packed up Cheater and headed downstairs for breakfast. I had an extra-long day ahead of me—26 kilometers—and I’d heard other pilgrims last night saying that there were a lot of steep hills, so I was eager to get on my way. I was also starting to love the long contemplative walks and the insights that came with them, and looked forward to what the Camino would reveal today.
Breakfast was wonderful. The croissants were freshly baked; and there were Spanish omelets, bowls of fresh fruit, and juices available. And the best part was the delicious coffee. I had two cups because it had been days since I’d had coffee that tasted this wonderful. I was happy to start my day with such a great breakfast, as it meant I could eat one less PowerBar on the trail. My supplies were starting to dwindle and I still had three and a half weeks of walking ahead of me. Just to be sure I didn’t eat them too fast, I had been putting only one bar a day in my pocket to eat on the trail, which was risky because some days there was nothing to eat or drink for long periods of time. I filled up my water bottle, made sure Cheater was clearly marked with the next destination, checked out of the hotel, got my pilgrim’s passport stamped, and was on my way. It was 7 A.M.
The rain died down about an hour after I started out, and the sun began to peek through the clouds. The first few kilometers were easy and the route was mostly on a natural path, which was great, because on some stretches of the Camino I had to walk on concrete roads, or even along the side of the highway, and that was not easy on the feet and not a pleasant experience. But soon the route began to ascend, and I found myself climbing a gravel and rock path up a steep hill, which challenged my knee a lot. I used my poles to keep from sliding around too much, but I unwittingly had such a death grip on them as I sought to steady myself that soon my hands ached like mad. At least I had new pain to deal with, which distracted me from the chronic pain in my toes. For some reason, all these aches and pains, old and new, made me laugh. “I am hopeless,” I said to myself. “Why didn’t I read the memo that said it’s better to get in shape for this thing?”
Eventually I fell into a rhythm and was able to ease my intense focus off of the changing terrain and drift back to my thoughts. Still thinking about the Knights Templar, I wondered why aspects or remnants of that past soul imprint remained so strong in me.
As I wandered over the first hill, I descended into a small village named Torres del Río. It was only 9:15. Soon I happened upon a small 12th-century octagonal church called Iglesia del Santo Sepulcro. To my delight it was open, the first since I had started the Camino. (I later figured out that all the churches are open every morning, but closed for lunch hours.) Upon entering, I discovered that this church was linked to the Knights Templar and to a similar octagonal church in Jerusalem, also called the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The simple interior contained a rather scary-looking 13th-century crucifix, a vaulted ceiling forming an eight-pointed star, and not much more. Yet the energy was palpable and intense. I sat quietly and prayed for a while, remembering that I had forgotten to pray before I set out this morning.
Holy Mother-Father God,
No matter what my past was or how it might be connected to the Knights Templar, I ask that this deep-seated heaviness and oppression that I feel is connected to it and that I’ve carried in my heart for so long—lifetimes, maybe—start to lift and be released as I continue to walk the Camino. If I have unfinished business or karmic lessons I’ve yet to learn related to this, please bring them to mind so that I might grow and complete this past. If it is no more than a hangover of another time past and does not serve my heart and your plan for me today, please help lift this energy and allow it to move on, and replace it with peace in my heart. I know this is a big request, but I hope you grant it.
Amen, and thank you.
I sat in silence and took in the grace of the church for a little longer. A moment later, a very old Frenchwoman, who had quietly entered while I sat, started singing a hymn in the most beautiful, strong voice, the acoustics of the church amplifying and filling the air with her song clear up to the ceiling. I closed my eyes and took it in. When the music stopped, I opened my eyes and turned around to thank her, but she had already gone. I felt grateful for this unexpected gift from the Camino. I remained a minute longer and then, like a flash, I could sense the spirits of the thousands of pilgrims gone before who had passed through these doors. After that, all was still.
As I continued walking, I thought about releasing the past. There was so much that I wanted to release. I wanted to release myself from the pain of all the relationships in my life that had fallen down like a house of cards in the past year. I especially wanted to release my guilt over my failed marriage. I wanted to release myself from the fear of my impending divorce. But the more I walked, the more I wondered why it was so difficult.
I certainly didn’t want to hold on to these painful feelings. And yet, a mere mental decision on my part to release them hadn’t worked. Goodness knows, I tried that, almost daily. So why was I still holding on to these feelings? Or were these feelings holding on to me?
It wasn’t something that I could answer. I had an especially difficult time releasing Patrick. It was as if he and I were somehow connected in a way that didn’t want to be released even though we both believed that we did.
I walked with this awareness for some time, simply noticing the energetic cord between us. It was a strong one. I couldn’t shake it free. Since I didn’t want to struggle with it today, as I was so used to struggling with it, I began to direct my attention back to the surroundings and feel the spirit of the Camino once again.
I walked for a long time, my mind now silent. Then I began thinking again.
Is there something I am hiding from? Is that why I can’t release myself from what I want to be released from? I know I’ve hidden my real needs for a long time. Not just from others, but from myself as well. Maybe I want and need a lot of support, and I have been in complete denial of this truth all of my life. Maybe I want to relax and stop proving to others that I am so spiritual by taking so much responsibility for everything, and asking for so little, and then being angry because what I was asking for wasn’t really true. Maybe I am tired of asking so much of myself, and I am angry that others don’t feel the need to do this like I do. Maybe I don’t know how I feel and I am not as clear about how others feel. Maybe I am completely confused. Maybe if I accept all of this I can release the past more easily.
Those thoughts shot through me like a cannon. They were jumbled and confused and jumped all over the place and exploded to the surface of my awareness all at once, like popcorn kernels in hot oil. And they all felt so true.
“Fuck everything!” I suddenly screamed out in full volume. “I’m sick of all of this impossible expectation!”
That surprised me so much I had to sit down. The earth was so welcoming. So soothing. It didn’t expect a thing of me. It felt kind to my soul. The truth was I only wanted to rest my soul, and my feet, without feeling guilty. And so I did.