PILGRIMAGES ARE HARD FOR A REASON
Friday, September 1
Roncesvalles to Larrasoaña
27.76km/17.25mi (746.34km/467.28mi to Santiago de Compostela)
Farmland…Early morning
Today was a good reminder to check my hiking hubris at the Camino door. I knew yesterday was challenging, but I had no idea that today was going to be hard in different ways. But let me begin at pre-dawn’s very early light.
“Today you are to identify yourself with the more abundant life, to think on those things that make for peace, to dwell on the unity that underlies everything. As you consciously poise yourself in the realization that you live in pure Spirit, new power will be born within you. You will find yourself renewed by the Divine Life, led by Divine Intelligence and guarded by Divine Love. Focus your inward vision on this in dwelling harmony, knowing that as you contemplate its perfection you will see it manifest in everything you do.” - This Thing Called You, page 162
After a relaxing first night, I was up at 5:45am and had my mood immediately “set” for the day when, at 6am sharp, the soft sounds of Gregorian Chants emanated from hidden speakers. What a glorious way to start the day. And so, at 6:15 I was off, joining fellow peregrinos on the path to Zubiri…passing the ubiquitous signpost reminding us of our destination and how far we had to walk to get there.
Since I didn’t have privacy to meditate in the large hostel, I began the practice here (continued from my beach training power walks back home) of doing walking mindful meditations. Walking in the dark through thickets in the woods lent itself to prayer. Lit by my headlamp, my dark walk was peaceful, mystical, and with Dad’s brain surgery a success….all is right in the world.
Stopping in the first village on the route, Auritz Burguete, for coffee and bottled water was a good springboard for the route before me: walking on village streets, admiring gardens and doorways, and hiking through farms and orchards and getting stares from our bovine friends.
Moments like these keep me grounded in faith that we are all of us One: hiker or abuelita, village or metropolis, peregrino or cow. Seeing differences where none exist ultimately leads to separation, bias and discrimination, isolation and darkness. Mindfully walking the Camino with others, who for whatever reason have chosen to do this rigorous and, at times, painful hike, breaks down walls of separation and removes any thought of the “other”.
“It is only when the intellect is no longer obstructed by negative emotional reactions, arising out of the experiences of doubt and fear, that the word of the mouth can immediately bear fruit. There is nothing in this thought to be discouraged about, for the very fact that thoughts are things also carries with it this divine connotation that the thinker can change his thoughts, that he really is the master of his fate.” - This Thing Called You, page 158
It begins with a “Buen Camino” as you pass someone, and soon it turns to deep and fun chats as you’re walking, dodging rocks, mud and deep pools of rainwater in your way. But…why travel to Spain when these moments are all around wherever we are.
Say hello; open a door; be of service in ways big and/or small. Connect. Because when we do that (and let me share what you may already know) we’re actually connecting to that place deep within…whether it’s that inner child or survivor adult. As in the Camino, the first step is always (and seemingly) the hardest. But do it. You’ll never reach your personal Santiago de Compostela without putting one foot in front of the other…one chat after another…one act of service after another.
“Knowing that all experience is a play of Life upon Itself, the blossoming of love into self-expression, the coming forth of good into the joy of its own being, I enter into the game of living with joyful anticipation, with enthusiasm.” - This Thing Called You, page 137
Soon, we came across a detour into a forest path, entering a beautiful woodland of trees, leaves and the beginning of what would prove to be the rockiest, gnarliest, consistently hilly path I had encountered. (This is where training on the Trans-Catalina Trail proved beneficial.)
It’s actually quite beautiful: farmlands, rocky paths, morning mist giving way to open skies. I feel like I’ve got the Camino all to myself, but I know I don’t. If I was to pan back the “sky cam”, I’m sure I’d see someone around the bend, (pull back) tens walking within minutes of me, (pull back) hundreds and then (pulling back some more) thousands who are on the Camino and reach the end every single day.
We’re never truly alone, are we? That sense of loneliness just may lead to isolation and sadness. Or grandiosity. Both very destructive unless we join in community with each other.
“I know, not only that all is well with my soul, my spirit and my mind - all is well with my affairs.” - This Thing Called You, page 168
Let me share with you that I was a very shy child; skinny one moment, fat the next (kids can be cruel). I found a way to be safe in the world by retreating into myself, finding friends in television characters, the theatricality of the Latin Catholic Mass, and escaping earth’s gravity with every Mercury, Gemini and Apollo space launch. I overcame my shyness (to the world) with grandiosity and ego. Neither served me well as an adult as they led to unhealthy, if hidden, manifestations and traits that ultimately led to hitting bottom and, by the grace of God, entering a 12-Step program in NYC on Monday, April 16, 2001.
Community and fellowship saved my life. Living in the world taught me that it’s a safe place. Saying “Buen Camino” to people I’ve never met, from all corners of the globe, teaches me that the Camino, the world and my life are all safe spaces I am blessed to inhabit: one bootstep at a time.
“Nothing is alien to me. Nothing enters into my experience but joy, integrity and friendship. The good I would realize for myself I realize for all others. I cannot desire a good for myself other than the good I desire for everyone else. Neither do I deny myself the good I affirm for others.” - This Thing Called You, page 169
So after passing graffiti-laden barns, deserted mills and tunnels (I love graffiti!), I made it into Zubiri…usually the end of that day’s stage of villages.
Not particularly feeling that village’s vibe, though a lot of the pilgrims were staying there, I decided to walk a bit further to Larrasoaña (an extra 5.44km/3.38mi). Really glad I did! I checked in, showered and headed to the nearest (only) restaurant/grocery store. Seating was outdoors, under an awning and surrounded by a handful of various country’s flags. I met my first “Camino family”: peregrinos you’ve met on and off along the way and then reconnect off the path.
We had such a great time at lunch that we met again for dinner. Note: these weren’t formal sit-down affairs. Rather, the kind of gathering you’d expect from kindred nomads relaxing after a very rough day on your feet. Words can’t describe the experience. I rushed back to my hostel when the first rumblings of thunder began and I had clothes drying on the line outdoors.
That evening, I experienced the loudest, most continuously lasting thunderstorm and light show I’ve ever lived through. Even from Midwest standards, this was amazing. Being on the third floor, I had a skylight which flashed white light like a disco strobe light. Fortunately, it ended by morning. That morning, 5:30am came upon me pretty quick. I don’t know about you, but the sound of thunder, rain and lighting has a calming effect when falling asleep. (I should figure out that dichotomy sometime.)
“When I am silent, I have thunder hidden inside.” - Rumi
