Looking back and moving forward

Thanks to anyone who is still checking in, and my apologies for the belatedness of this final post. It has been a whirlwind but wonderful return to the States. My Spanish adventure has drawn to a close, and the reality of the Camino has now faded into the background. Nevertheless, this has been an experience that I will never forget and, what is more, one that I hope will make a lasting impact on the way I live my life.

Looking back on my time walking the Camino, the things that stick out the most are the people, the beautiful places, and the feeling of elan that consumed me for the duration of my pilgrimage. I loved the simplicity of the lifestyle I was able to lead for the past month. While life in the "real" world unavoidably brings with it many more complications, I believe that there is much I can do to keep the essential things in the forefront and the less important (yet always enticing) distractions in their proper place.

I have set a number of resolutions for myself that I hope will aid me in transferring the best parts about life on the Camino to my life back home. Well aware of the onslaught of work and responsibilities that awaits me at the beginning of the fall semester, I am taking pains (perhaps the wrong expression--really I'm finding it a joy) to frame each day with prayer. In particular, I hope that taking time out in the middle of the day to pray will allow me to extricate myself from the powerful current created by classes, meetings, and projects each day. I am confident that thus taking time out and resetting several times a day will help me to put all things into perspective. A second resolution is take time to enjoy the many blessings in life. For example, I want to make it a priority to eat dinner with my housemates (and anyone else who wants to join) on a regular basis. Likewise I hope to take greater pleasure in the work and activities I undertake rather than simply getting them done so I can check them off a list. Spending some time with people of other cultures had revealed to me just how compulsive Americans can be when it comes to executing daily tasks. True, we are probably one of the most efficient nations in the world, but what good is it to have better services and products if we don't take the time to enjoy them. My Camino friends have shown me how work, even the most routine task, can be made into play. Such things are easy to say but difficult to carry out. Assuredly, this will be a little adventure in itself.

Thank you once again for following our journey. My walk across Spain has come to an end, but the Camino still stretches out before me and before all of us. Many people come to Spain looking for answers or for the impetus to change their lives. Rightly used, the Camino can serve as a springboard to a better way of life. I for one can't wait to see where it will lead next.

The End of the Earth

Yesterday my walk across Spain came to a most definitive end when I hit the Atlantic Ocean. Few times in my life have I experienced such an exulting and yet humbling feeling as I did arriving at the shore of Finisterre, planting my staff in the white sand, dropping my pack, and diving into the ocean. For a time after I emerged from the water I simply lied there on the beach letting the moment wash over me. As I write this, I realize how out of place an expression of time is in describing the experience. There is something about the sea that for me dwarfs all else, even seems to blot out memory. At the first glimpse of the ocean, I felt a world apart from that which I had experienced for the past month. This was something entirely different from the albuergues, blisters, and coffee breaks of the camino. The experience of standing there at the edge of the world with the vast waters stretching interminably before me defied any comparison and dwarfed any thoughts that may have been running through my mind. It was worth the walk.
Eventually I did make the connection back to the camino life. I soon after checked into my albuergue for the night and met up with friends, including some old ones I had not seen for weeks. (You´ll recall Mark from the ¨Fountain of Youth¨.) That evening we prepared sandwiches in the kitchen and then, packing them away with a few bottles of wine and some dessert, climbed to the lighthouse that keeps watch at the outermost point of Finisterre. There we watched a spectacular sunset, singing songs, and continuing the pilgrim tradition of burning a few items of clothing that had accompanied us on the voyage. As we raced back down the hill with the midnight hour approaching, the last shades of blue still persisted in the sky. This would be Barbie´s and my last night with the friends who have walked at our side, some for a few days, others from the very beginning.
I can´t begin to wrap this all up at the moment. I think for now I´ll leave you all with this final image and wait until I´m back home (without time limits on my internet usage) to make my final reflections and perhaps put up a few pictures. In the meantime, keep us in your prayers as we fly home, and I´ll see some of you very soon.

Santiago!

Yesterday morning at 11am we, a group consisting of Americans, Austrians, Germans, Mexicans, Australians, Brits, Swiss, Italians, and Spaniards entered the city of Santiago. Few of us knew each other before we began, but over the course of the past few weeks we came together in such a way that none of us would have wanted to enjoy this moment without any of the others. Together we approached the cathedral, singing and chanting, spiting the rain that fell gently upon our heads. The range of emotions upon our arrival was great. Some were utterly elated. Others stunned. Still others seemed not to know what to make of this moment. One friend, who walked from his home in Switzerland, seemed paralyzed by the moment. For a long time he simply stared up at the cathedral, hands on his head. How does one react when the way of life he´s maintained for over two months suddenly comes to an end? The question confronting all of us at this point is ¨what now?¨
After dropping our things at a nearby pension and resting ourselves for a time, we ventured back out into the city for the afternoon. The first stop for many was the pilgrims´office (imagine going through customs in a centuries old stone building), where pilgrims come to receive their compastela, a certificate acknowledging that one has walked at least 100 kilometers to Santiago. I spent the rest of the afternoon with some friends sitting on a doorstep listening to street musicians and watching children dance in the streets and then later taking a celebratory drink at a sun-bathed cafe. Eventually everyone in our party (perhaps 20 strong) met up in the shadow of the cathedral before walking to dinner in a local restaurant, where we remained eating, laughing, and reflecting on the journey until 11 or so.
Barbie and I and a few others will take today in Santiago and then set out for Finisterre tomorrow. For most this marks the end of the journey. I´m glad I have a few more days to process the past month and to enjoy the rhythm of life on the camino. My journey will end soon enough, but for a while longer the road remains open to me.

Walking a little more slowly

We are now three days away from Santiago. I was caught off guard a couple of day´s ago when one of our friends pointed out just how close we were. It´s hard to believe after living for a month this daily lifestyle of wake-walk-wind down that it could actually come to an end. Nevertheless, I happen to disagree with the common truism that all good things come to an end. My time here in Spain will unavoidably end on the predetermined date, but the seeds have already been planted for a number of ways in which this experience will live on once I return to life as usual back in the States.
Two days ago as I was approaching the end of our descent from O´Cebreiro and the day´s hike, I began having the feeling that there was something familiar about the stone walls lining the path and small farming villages dotting the hillside. Soon enough I stumbled upon incontrovertible proof--a 100+ year old tree at the edge of the village of Triacastella. This tree is the very first landmarker (I´ve passed several by now) I remember from my first experience on the camino. At this point, every day is a walk through more or less familiar ground, yet these two experiences could not be any more different. Our evening in Triacastella was a good one: We attended mass with a priest who was rather unorthodox but teeming with love. A few pilgrims actually shed some tears, so moved were they by the priest and the service. When we returned to the albuergue to bed down for the night, our ears were immediately met with what may very well be the most horrendous snoring we´ve heard yet (no small feet). After a few pilgrims tried to jar the snorer out of his rhythm with whistling and other noises, we simply fell to laughing, so ridiculous was the scene.
The next day found us in Sarria, where the Feast of St. John the Baptist was underway. Really the festivities did not begin until midnight or so, at which time everyone in the town from the youngest toddler to oldest senior citizen was out in the streets celebrating. There were live bands, dancing in the streets, carnival rides, overpriced treats--all of which we were able to enjoy thanks to a permissive hospitalero (person in charge of the albuergue), who agreed to leave a window open for us to crawl back in through once we´d had our fun. Some of you might be reading this thinking ¨carnival rides and midnight carousing--some pilgrimage.¨ I would respond with something uttered by our friend Greg (sadly now departed back to the States). Walking the camino, you wander through the whole spectrum of life, from small provincial towns to big cities and everything in between. No doubt this is a very different experience than that endured by early pilgrims who traversed its many miles on their knees in penitence for their sins, but it has been instructive in its own way and I promise you we´ve all had ample opportunities to atone for our misdeeds.
A final thought for the day. Yesterday I asked Barbie if she was getting excited with Santiago now looming so near. After a pause she replied simply, ¨Not really. I´m just walking.¨ I must admit I´ve been walking a bit more slowly myself since then. As time has passed, my perspective here has inevitably shifted. Coming closer to my physical destination, it´s hard to prevent my thoughts from shifting to the mentality of one running a race. Yet this camino was never about simply getting to Santiago. I came for the walk and for the people I´d meet along the way. I´m grateful to have been reminded of that.