LIFE LESSONS (part one)
Monday, September 4
Pamplona to Cirauqui
35.94km/22.33mi (694.06km/431.27mi to Santiago de Compostela)
And so very early on a Monday morning, on the west end of the historic city center, I began my walk towards Puente La Reina (23.8km) and, hopefully, if my energy and feet make it, to Cirauqui (additional 7.8kms). Interesting thought: it’s Labor Day back home, and I’m here in Spain at a rare time with no major strikes. For a country with extensive workers’ rights, the country is working and looks great.
So I’m leaving Pamplona thanking it for a wonderful rest day…I just have to stop and share that it’s weird to be walking through a city park and hear roosters all around you! Anyway…only in España.
“There’s a morning when presence comes over your soul. You sing like a rooster in your earth-colored shape. Your heart hears and, no longer frantic, begins to dance.” - Rumi
As I leave Pamplona city limits, my heart is full of gratitude: for finally visiting this dynamic and beautiful city; for seeing Terry during Namasté and Seal Beach Center for Spiritual Living’s (CSL) Sunday Service (he’s so cute!); and for the video my sister sent me of dad walking with assistance while in ICU. The miles spent apart during my father’s medical challenge haven’t rested easily in me, but I’m more confident than ever that my entire time here can be spent holding Dad (and Mom) in the deepest of prayer that automatically crosses time, space and geographical boundaries. I walk for Dad. I walk for Mom. They are in every step I take. Theirs is the strength I pull from and return with each panting breath. “Step. Step. Step. Step. Mom. Step. Dad. Step. Dad. Dad. Step. Step. Mom. Mom. Step. Step.” We are all of us One.
“We are chemists in the laboratory of the Infinite. What, then shall we create?” - Ernest Holmes
Reaching back a couple of days to Larrasoaña, the gregarious (and 10 time peregrino)restaurant owner there shared 3 Life Lessons you take away from the Camino.
First: Be mindful; live in the present moment. When you’re focused on where your next step will land, putting one foot in front of the other….on grass, gravel, jagged rocks, or ankle deep water and mud…you don’t have time to think about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. All you’re in is the present moment; and you make it to tomorrow organically and carrying the lessons of each step with you.
Second: Listen. Walking the long expanses of open fields of sunflowers, vineyards and freshly shorn crop fields, crossing a stream and hearing the burbling sounds of water, and being up so early that you are witness to a technicolor sunrise, I usually stop and take it in…REALLY take it in. The sounds, even from a totally quiet 6am foggy walk in the dark woods, are mystical and magical. It’s a mindful walking meditation at its best. So when you get back home, said the innkeeper, bring that practice with you and then notice how many others don’t listen, truly listen to everything around them…including you.
Third: Do you really need everything in your “backpack”? Having to open your backpack, empty it out to get what you need for the night and the next day, and then load it up, strap it tight, put it on and constantly wonder “Why isn’t it lighter?!”…forces you to look at every single item (clothes, essentials, toiletries, water, electronics, etc.) and question their absolute necessity EVERY SINGLE DAY! So ask yourself when you return home: are there places, people, things, mindsets rhat aren’t serving me anymore and that actually add “weight” to my life? Pack your backpack lightly and with only those items that will take you to your next stop, and the path along the way, with ease (and comfortable sandals!).
“People sacrifice the present for the future. But life is available only in the present. That is why we should walk in such a way that every step can bring us to the here and the now.” - Thich Nhat Hanh
And so I continue past Panplona and Cizur Menor, and onto a very rocky, rutted and muddy path that continued to take us higher…on both accounts. And then we meet the Dane.
