Okay, guys...Camino part 2!
Day 6.
It feels like Monday morning in the office. Everything drags.
Even the most dedicated, typically 4:30-5am walkers among us are barely making it down the stairs and to the breakfast table by 8. I could hug the coffee machine, but I'll settle for a few cups.
We eat slowly, adding chairs one by one as new faces emerge with sleep in their eyes.
Typically we spring into action, ready for the day, but this morning the application of boots and backpacks feels very much like a chore.
"Are you ready?" Mire asks me.
Oh. I hadn't realized she was waiting.
"Uh...no, it's okay, you're more ready than me, there's no need to wait up."
Ruud looks over at me as though he doesn't comprehend what I've just said.
I hadn't realized *they* were waiting.
"No problem, honey," Mire says. "We'll wait."
And I don't bother protesting, because for the first time in this experience, I *want* to walk with them instead of alone.
So with friendly waves, we set off into the mist.
"On the road again...I just can't wait to get on the road again!"
We don't make it far. Mire and I stand stretching and talking as Ruud runs back to the Cathedral for a final goodbye.
I can feel his eyes on us as he returns, and when I turn to look, I see a smile that could break his face. He doesn't slow as he nears us, but barrels directly in, grabbing the two of us and hugging tightly.
"I love you, guys," he announces.
"I love you, too," we respond, without question. To him and to each other.
And this is the first of many.
But let's back up a bit. I feel I skipped some important moments in Santiago in part one.
Rewind.
Day 4. 5 kilometers from Santiago.
I spot two figures from my group lounging on a church wall. I haven't spoken much to these two. In fact, I think the boy has just joined us last night. But a friendly face is a friendly face, and I know everyone in the group is kind.
I sit down with them. I've just finished a break, but as we near Santiago, my frequency of sit downs seems to be increasing. It's like...some part of me doesn't want to reach my destination.
We bullshit for a while. Their names are Mire and Ruud. I'd heard them already, but there are so many people...I can't keep track.
Eventually I stand. "Well, guys, it's been a pleasure."
I put my headphones in and Mumford and Sons drifts into my brain.
"Enjoy the last five. See you in Santiago!"
But eventually, with the combination of my crying at the city limits, slowed steps, stopping at traffic lights (weird after walking through so much nature), and various other factors, they catch me and I tug my headphones out. I've had my private moment. Might as well finish the last 2k with these guys.
We enter the plaza and all the emotions wash over us. I feel safe saying "us". I can see it on their faces just like mine. We stand before the Cathedral in awe. Excitement washes through our souls and after a split second of hesitation, we grab each other in huge hugs. Laughing and crying and whooping. We did it. Holy shit.
And maybe sharing emotions that intense was the glue which bound us, I'm not sure. But whatever it was, bound we certainly became.
"Ah, you guys, I need a freaking ice cream!" I laugh.
Their faces light up in agreement. And off we go for ice cream. And then another. And eventually, a third. We are being sure to set high expectations for our ice cream consumption throughout this friendship.
Day 5.
His voice echos within the archways and tugs at my heart. This shaggy haired boy and his guitar. The nine of us had set off in search of a swing concert we caught rumor of, but this voice snagged our attention as we walked. Now we're stuck.
He picks up the pace and we're dancing. Slows it down and we're swaying. The audience is in the palm of his hand. This street performer, who can harness the magic of this ancient city in his voice.
I stand on the step behind Mire and she leans into me, wrapping herself into my arms. She pulls Ruud in front of her, and puts my arms around him as well, sandwiching herself between us, each of them taking one of my hands in theirs.
I could cry in my happiness. I have always enjoyed (more than enjoyed...thrived on) physical affection, but I can't remember the last time I was able to show or receive such love, outside of my very best friends, without romantic intention or without people getting weird or the wrong idea. I can tell these two don't want anything more from me then this simple moment, and they can have it.
The busker tells us it's his last song, and the opening chords of Hallelujah ring out. Chills run up my arms. They both squeeze me.
The crowd of at least 50 people join in singing the chorus, and I feel we could light the city on fire. Raise the dead. Cure hate. I feel each soul light up and reach out, begging to connect. I feel the two of them kissing my hands and my arms, expelling the excess energy anyway possible, and when the music stops we're high, and misty eyed, and we stare at each other and laugh. I can feel the vibrations running through our bodies. A closed circuit, bursting with electricity.
We lay on the plaza and stare at the Cathedral until we come down.
What. A. Life.
Back to Day 6; 21km
The laziness has thoroughly consumed.
It's an easy day by the standards of what we've been doing and what's ahead of us. Only 21 kilometers to our destination for the night. Yet we walk slowly and take many breaks. We climb trees and sit by rivers, effectively stretching 21k into 8 hours of walking. I'm almost impressed at our slow speed. But it's the best day I've had yet.
"I'm not in a rush," Ruud says, as we sit on the ground making art with pebbles. "All I'd be doing once I got to the town is finding and hanging out with you guys, and we're already together, so what's the rush?"
And I realized then how right he is. The three of us have hardly separated since entering Santiago. And yet, I don't feel claustrophobic with them like I normally do if I spend too much time with the same people. Huh.
I glance across a field and see a huge outcropping of rock. I'm tired of just walking, I want to run and jump and climb.
"I want to climb that rock," I say aloud.
"Yeah, I wanna climb that rock, too," Ruud says, without slowing.
I take a few more steps and then falter, "Well..."
We look at each other, a question in the air, before silently agreeing and taking off running up the hill, flinging our packs to the side halfway up. We whoop and shout, and the adrenaline and excitement fend off the stabs and scratches of the spiky plants in our path.
We roar from the top and it echoes for a mile around.
A simple moment. But perfect. Everything I could ask for.
When we get back to the bottom I select the perfect pine cone from the ground. I carry it with me for three days, to the end of the world. I laugh every time I open my backpack and see this giant thing sitting on top. But in the end, it was my best decision yet, though I didn't have a clue at the time.
As the day wears on, it becomes apparent that though we are all enjoying each others company, Ruud and Mire are interested in each other more deeply. I feel the painful pricks of an emotion I can't recall having since leaving the US...I feel jealously. And man, is it a bitch.
I'm annoyed by my reaction to this development though. I'm not interested in anything romantic with either of them, so why do I feel jealous of their interest? I should be happy for them.
But I'm insecure, I realize. Of my place. Of our friendship. I like these two so much, I don't want to lose them to each other. I don't want things to change.
I start to wonder if I'm in the way. If they actually want me around, or if they are just being nice.
These thoughts are toxic, and I know that, but I can't seem to stop them. So the next morning, when we all catch up to the same spot for breakfast, I'm sure to finish quickly and head out while they're still sitting. I need time and space to figure out my own issues.
Day 7; 33km.
My instinct in uncomfortable situations I don't want to deal with, is to dip out. To listen to the voice in my head (which is usually wrong and just creates problems), and go. Don't give people a chance to hurt me. Leave before they can.
My instinct here is no different.
The voice says they like each other and I'm in the way. The instinct is to make some excuse to go. It'd be quite easy on the trail. Either say I'm tired and stop early, losing the group, or say I want to walk more, and head to the next town, which would also lose the group.
I toy with this idea.
It'd be easy.
But shit, didn't I come here to improve? To stop hiding or running or making assumptions. To grow the hell up.
It's not fair to anyone to just leave without an explanation. I'm better than that.
So I head to the albergue everyone is going to for the night.
They sit on the steps, draped around each other, and I stand in front stretching my tensed calves. We're dripping all over the tile, soaked from walking the last 3k of the day in the pouring rain.
"You wanna get in on this?" Ruud asks, indicating the step in front of him, and I wonder briefly if I've misread their closeness. Assumptions make an ass out of you and me. But I'm too tired to question it, and sit in front of him. I feel both their hands on my shoulders and lay my head on Ruud's knee. It was my longest day yet at 33k, and I feel it in my whole body.
"This is so cute," I hear Eli say from the doorway, and I reach my hand out blindly. He takes it.
"You made it today, Maia, you should be proud," Eli says, knowing I'm the least experienced walker in the group. The least kilometers under my belt. "I'm really glad you're here." I smile sleepily and squeeze his hand. We all sit in warm-hearted silence.
Quit running from the people who love you, Maia.
I find myself alone with Ruud before dinner, and decide to voice my thoughts instead of letting them brew into something poisonous.
"Hey, can I ask you something? Am I in the way of you and Mire? Because I was thinking maybe it's time for me to move on to a new group. Give you guys some space with each other."
"Oh..." I've taken him by surprise, it seems. "I mean...of course you can leave if you want to, you have that freedom. But I really hope you don't go, I wouldn't like that at all. We are a team of three. Together we're something special, and you are a part of that."
Oh. Well...that's why you ask.
I'm glad I didn't run.
Day 8; 37km
Despite their reassurances that we're all in this together, I made myself scarce after dinner last night. Even if we all love each other, why should that need to inhibit them?
This morning I start the walk with Mire, and I'm not surprised when she tells me they kissed.
No, not surprised.
I am, however, relieved when this news from her makes me feel happy for them instead of scared or jealous. Finally!
I guess my lesson for myself in this situation was...if you're unsure...just ask. Don't get too into your head. Thinking thoughts in circles rarely helps anyone.
"We have something special together," Mire says after a while. "Something different. When I walk with him, I miss you, and when I walk with you, I miss him. We are best together. We are a team of three."
I smile in agreement.
I am full in my heart.
We're still 10 kilometers out, but when we see the first beach, we can't help ourselves. I approach slowly at first, on tired feet, but as the water comes into focus, energy bursts through me, and I'm running. I drop my bag, yank off my shirt and shorts, and kick off my shoes, all still in motion. I can't waste a second between me and the ocean. I crash clumsily into the salt water and my whole body is alive. Silvia and Ruud are right there with me, on the same wave, and I yell back at our new friend, who's protesting the temperature of the water.
"Come on, Lukas, show your German pride!"
I could freeze in this moment.
Content.
We sleep on the beach.
"The Wild Beach," the locals call it.
Real pilgrims.
We came all this way to be at the sea, shouldn't we wake up to it?
I take my pine cone out of my bag and climb barefoot along the edge of the sea on giant boulders. I sit for what feels like eternity, reflecting. The sun slowly lowers itself over the ocean. Ready to kiss the water and say goodnight.
I hold the pine cone with both hands and think of every single negative emotion I've had on my Camino.
Insecurity. Jealousy. Fear.
I think out farther then the walk. Over the past months. Over the past years. I think of why those emotions have existed in my life.
I pour everything into my pine cone. I dub it, "The Seed of My Insecurity", and as I watch the tide come in, covering the rocks I'd used to climb to this point, one very clear thought strikes me.
If something as profound and magnificent as Nature created us, then what does that make us? Profound and fucking magnificent.
And with all the strength inside of me, I fling my pine cone off the cliff and far into the ocean. The Seed of My Insecurities. I have no use for you anymore.
As I climb back down, I see Mire standing on the beach watching me. She seems to be waiting for something...an invitation? I wave to her and she starts running toward me full speed. I laugh, mirroring her actions and we crash into each other full force. We're laughing, and I'm shaking, on the verge of tears, but I feel stronger than I've felt in...well, maybe ever.
And I'm high on life...again. God, why did I ever need drugs? Happiness is so much better.
My two days in Finesterre were beautiful. To due them justice in words would take a few more posts, I think, so I'll give the briefest of summary's. I'd hate to cheapen the experience.
Finesterre was campfires on the beach, sandy yoga at sunrise, freezing our asses off under the night sky, barbecue, cuddle puddles with friends, singing my soul out in front of strangers, being open, bear hugs, laughter, meteor showers, watching schools of dolphins play from the cliff side, sharing everything...including, but not limited to; kindness, love, food, drinks, stories, hugs, massages, fires, sleeping bags...Finesterre was glasses of Sangria, walking barefoot through the water, turning strangers into friends, honest words, remembering to trust the moment, crying from the beauty that is life (pain included), singing together as we walked down a mountain, feeling content. Finesterre was completion. The end of the world. The end of a journey. The start of another.
It seems impossible for things to end so quickly.
But I suppose, seeing how fast they got started, it makes sense. The four of us, the power team plus our newest member, Lukas, put our packs on one more time and hike the last four kilometers to the zero point. The End of the World.
We sit huddled together as a tangled mess of bodies, despite the heat, and stare in wonder at the beauty around us.
And in the words of Jim Morrison, "This is the end...my dearest friend, the end."
Mire leaves soon after we've returned from the end point.
And then there are three.
We jump on a bus back to Santiago, and Lukas leaves us once we arrive.
Then there are two.
I crash hard after dinner, the exhaustion I haven't felt through the journey finally catching me. At four AM, Ruud wakes me up to say goodbye, and after whispered farewells in a dark dormitory...there was one.
A weird feeling. To wake up, and once again, be on my own. After so much closeness, friendship, love, caring for one another. We're back to just me.
But as much as I already miss all my beautiful, light-bringing Camigos, I find I'm not sad. Though I do seem to be floating through a dream-like state as I revisit many of the places we discovered together. Perhaps it's a little dimmer now...or maybe it's just a different filter on the camera of life. Who knows.
I retrieve my pack from the post office where it's been waiting for me, and for the first time in weeks I put on regular clothes and shoes. I step out of the hostel and immediately I'm stopped by a Spanish family, asking for directions. To my surprise, I actually understand and know where they need to go. I direct them, and when I turn away, I can't help but laugh. Nobody asks pilgrims for directions, we're just as lost as you. I guess it's official...the Camino has come to an end for this pilgrim.
So what was the Camino for me?
The Camino was putting my trust in strangers I would never meet. Ghosts in the night, painting yellow arrows in all the right places, so that just when I was starting to think I was lost....bam! There is the way.
The Camino was opening myself to new people, new love, new experiences.
It was proving to myself that I am capable of such a task. But not only that...it was showing myself that Everyone is capable of such a task...you just have to be determined enough.
It was remembering that it's okay to ask for my space...to say I want to walk alone, or be alone. It was learning that the people who respect and love me will be okay with that space being necessary.
It's not personal.
We all need space.
And that they will be there for me when I've had enough for the time.
It was remembering to be honest. With everyone, but especially, with myself.
To examine, accept, and challenge my emotions as necessary.
To slow my steps. Considerably.
To stop rushing toward the finish line.
To enjoy every second of the journey.
To put it simply, the Camino was an incredible experience. Challenging, beautiful, and certainly an aid for growth.
Thank you to every amazing soul I met along the Way. You showed me that the light hasn't gone out in the world. That all we have to do is open our eyes for it.
As Ruud so beautifully wrote to me before we separated, "Wherever you are, you will never be alone, because I will be somewhere in the world, loving you." And I feel this for all of you. Thank you. From the bottom of my soul.
Day 6.
It feels like Monday morning in the office. Everything drags.
Even the most dedicated, typically 4:30-5am walkers among us are barely making it down the stairs and to the breakfast table by 8. I could hug the coffee machine, but I'll settle for a few cups.
We eat slowly, adding chairs one by one as new faces emerge with sleep in their eyes.
Typically we spring into action, ready for the day, but this morning the application of boots and backpacks feels very much like a chore.
"Are you ready?" Mire asks me.
Oh. I hadn't realized she was waiting.
"Uh...no, it's okay, you're more ready than me, there's no need to wait up."
Ruud looks over at me as though he doesn't comprehend what I've just said.
I hadn't realized *they* were waiting.
"No problem, honey," Mire says. "We'll wait."
And I don't bother protesting, because for the first time in this experience, I *want* to walk with them instead of alone.
So with friendly waves, we set off into the mist.
"On the road again...I just can't wait to get on the road again!"
We don't make it far. Mire and I stand stretching and talking as Ruud runs back to the Cathedral for a final goodbye.
I can feel his eyes on us as he returns, and when I turn to look, I see a smile that could break his face. He doesn't slow as he nears us, but barrels directly in, grabbing the two of us and hugging tightly.
"I love you, guys," he announces.
"I love you, too," we respond, without question. To him and to each other.
And this is the first of many.
But let's back up a bit. I feel I skipped some important moments in Santiago in part one.
Rewind.
Day 4. 5 kilometers from Santiago.
I spot two figures from my group lounging on a church wall. I haven't spoken much to these two. In fact, I think the boy has just joined us last night. But a friendly face is a friendly face, and I know everyone in the group is kind.
I sit down with them. I've just finished a break, but as we near Santiago, my frequency of sit downs seems to be increasing. It's like...some part of me doesn't want to reach my destination.
We bullshit for a while. Their names are Mire and Ruud. I'd heard them already, but there are so many people...I can't keep track.
Eventually I stand. "Well, guys, it's been a pleasure."
I put my headphones in and Mumford and Sons drifts into my brain.
"Enjoy the last five. See you in Santiago!"
We enter the plaza and all the emotions wash over us. I feel safe saying "us". I can see it on their faces just like mine. We stand before the Cathedral in awe. Excitement washes through our souls and after a split second of hesitation, we grab each other in huge hugs. Laughing and crying and whooping. We did it. Holy shit.
And maybe sharing emotions that intense was the glue which bound us, I'm not sure. But whatever it was, bound we certainly became.
"Ah, you guys, I need a freaking ice cream!" I laugh.
Their faces light up in agreement. And off we go for ice cream. And then another. And eventually, a third. We are being sure to set high expectations for our ice cream consumption throughout this friendship.
 |
| The Cathedral in Santiago. #nofilter |
His voice echos within the archways and tugs at my heart. This shaggy haired boy and his guitar. The nine of us had set off in search of a swing concert we caught rumor of, but this voice snagged our attention as we walked. Now we're stuck.
He picks up the pace and we're dancing. Slows it down and we're swaying. The audience is in the palm of his hand. This street performer, who can harness the magic of this ancient city in his voice.
I stand on the step behind Mire and she leans into me, wrapping herself into my arms. She pulls Ruud in front of her, and puts my arms around him as well, sandwiching herself between us, each of them taking one of my hands in theirs.
I could cry in my happiness. I have always enjoyed (more than enjoyed...thrived on) physical affection, but I can't remember the last time I was able to show or receive such love, outside of my very best friends, without romantic intention or without people getting weird or the wrong idea. I can tell these two don't want anything more from me then this simple moment, and they can have it.
The busker tells us it's his last song, and the opening chords of Hallelujah ring out. Chills run up my arms. They both squeeze me.
The crowd of at least 50 people join in singing the chorus, and I feel we could light the city on fire. Raise the dead. Cure hate. I feel each soul light up and reach out, begging to connect. I feel the two of them kissing my hands and my arms, expelling the excess energy anyway possible, and when the music stops we're high, and misty eyed, and we stare at each other and laugh. I can feel the vibrations running through our bodies. A closed circuit, bursting with electricity.
We lay on the plaza and stare at the Cathedral until we come down.
What. A. Life.
Back to Day 6; 21km
The laziness has thoroughly consumed.
It's an easy day by the standards of what we've been doing and what's ahead of us. Only 21 kilometers to our destination for the night. Yet we walk slowly and take many breaks. We climb trees and sit by rivers, effectively stretching 21k into 8 hours of walking. I'm almost impressed at our slow speed. But it's the best day I've had yet.
"I'm not in a rush," Ruud says, as we sit on the ground making art with pebbles. "All I'd be doing once I got to the town is finding and hanging out with you guys, and we're already together, so what's the rush?"
And I realized then how right he is. The three of us have hardly separated since entering Santiago. And yet, I don't feel claustrophobic with them like I normally do if I spend too much time with the same people. Huh.
I glance across a field and see a huge outcropping of rock. I'm tired of just walking, I want to run and jump and climb.
"I want to climb that rock," I say aloud.
"Yeah, I wanna climb that rock, too," Ruud says, without slowing.
I take a few more steps and then falter, "Well..."
We look at each other, a question in the air, before silently agreeing and taking off running up the hill, flinging our packs to the side halfway up. We whoop and shout, and the adrenaline and excitement fend off the stabs and scratches of the spiky plants in our path.
We roar from the top and it echoes for a mile around.
A simple moment. But perfect. Everything I could ask for.
When we get back to the bottom I select the perfect pine cone from the ground. I carry it with me for three days, to the end of the world. I laugh every time I open my backpack and see this giant thing sitting on top. But in the end, it was my best decision yet, though I didn't have a clue at the time.
 |
| Ruud, the pilgrim, transforming with my pine cone and his magic staff. |
As the day wears on, it becomes apparent that though we are all enjoying each others company, Ruud and Mire are interested in each other more deeply. I feel the painful pricks of an emotion I can't recall having since leaving the US...I feel jealously. And man, is it a bitch.
I'm annoyed by my reaction to this development though. I'm not interested in anything romantic with either of them, so why do I feel jealous of their interest? I should be happy for them.
But I'm insecure, I realize. Of my place. Of our friendship. I like these two so much, I don't want to lose them to each other. I don't want things to change.
I start to wonder if I'm in the way. If they actually want me around, or if they are just being nice.
These thoughts are toxic, and I know that, but I can't seem to stop them. So the next morning, when we all catch up to the same spot for breakfast, I'm sure to finish quickly and head out while they're still sitting. I need time and space to figure out my own issues.
 |
| Stealing corn?! Why would we do that?? |
Day 7; 33km.
My instinct in uncomfortable situations I don't want to deal with, is to dip out. To listen to the voice in my head (which is usually wrong and just creates problems), and go. Don't give people a chance to hurt me. Leave before they can.
My instinct here is no different.
The voice says they like each other and I'm in the way. The instinct is to make some excuse to go. It'd be quite easy on the trail. Either say I'm tired and stop early, losing the group, or say I want to walk more, and head to the next town, which would also lose the group.
I toy with this idea.
It'd be easy.
But shit, didn't I come here to improve? To stop hiding or running or making assumptions. To grow the hell up.
It's not fair to anyone to just leave without an explanation. I'm better than that.
So I head to the albergue everyone is going to for the night.
They sit on the steps, draped around each other, and I stand in front stretching my tensed calves. We're dripping all over the tile, soaked from walking the last 3k of the day in the pouring rain.
"You wanna get in on this?" Ruud asks, indicating the step in front of him, and I wonder briefly if I've misread their closeness. Assumptions make an ass out of you and me. But I'm too tired to question it, and sit in front of him. I feel both their hands on my shoulders and lay my head on Ruud's knee. It was my longest day yet at 33k, and I feel it in my whole body.
"This is so cute," I hear Eli say from the doorway, and I reach my hand out blindly. He takes it.
"You made it today, Maia, you should be proud," Eli says, knowing I'm the least experienced walker in the group. The least kilometers under my belt. "I'm really glad you're here." I smile sleepily and squeeze his hand. We all sit in warm-hearted silence.
Quit running from the people who love you, Maia.
I find myself alone with Ruud before dinner, and decide to voice my thoughts instead of letting them brew into something poisonous.
"Hey, can I ask you something? Am I in the way of you and Mire? Because I was thinking maybe it's time for me to move on to a new group. Give you guys some space with each other."
"Oh..." I've taken him by surprise, it seems. "I mean...of course you can leave if you want to, you have that freedom. But I really hope you don't go, I wouldn't like that at all. We are a team of three. Together we're something special, and you are a part of that."
Oh. Well...that's why you ask.
I'm glad I didn't run.
Day 8; 37km
Despite their reassurances that we're all in this together, I made myself scarce after dinner last night. Even if we all love each other, why should that need to inhibit them?
This morning I start the walk with Mire, and I'm not surprised when she tells me they kissed.
No, not surprised.
I am, however, relieved when this news from her makes me feel happy for them instead of scared or jealous. Finally!
I guess my lesson for myself in this situation was...if you're unsure...just ask. Don't get too into your head. Thinking thoughts in circles rarely helps anyone.
"We have something special together," Mire says after a while. "Something different. When I walk with him, I miss you, and when I walk with you, I miss him. We are best together. We are a team of three."
I smile in agreement.
I am full in my heart.
We're still 10 kilometers out, but when we see the first beach, we can't help ourselves. I approach slowly at first, on tired feet, but as the water comes into focus, energy bursts through me, and I'm running. I drop my bag, yank off my shirt and shorts, and kick off my shoes, all still in motion. I can't waste a second between me and the ocean. I crash clumsily into the salt water and my whole body is alive. Silvia and Ruud are right there with me, on the same wave, and I yell back at our new friend, who's protesting the temperature of the water.
"Come on, Lukas, show your German pride!"
I could freeze in this moment.
Content.
We sleep on the beach.
"The Wild Beach," the locals call it.
Real pilgrims.
We came all this way to be at the sea, shouldn't we wake up to it?
I take my pine cone out of my bag and climb barefoot along the edge of the sea on giant boulders. I sit for what feels like eternity, reflecting. The sun slowly lowers itself over the ocean. Ready to kiss the water and say goodnight.
I hold the pine cone with both hands and think of every single negative emotion I've had on my Camino.
Insecurity. Jealousy. Fear.
I think out farther then the walk. Over the past months. Over the past years. I think of why those emotions have existed in my life.
I pour everything into my pine cone. I dub it, "The Seed of My Insecurity", and as I watch the tide come in, covering the rocks I'd used to climb to this point, one very clear thought strikes me.
If something as profound and magnificent as Nature created us, then what does that make us? Profound and fucking magnificent.
And with all the strength inside of me, I fling my pine cone off the cliff and far into the ocean. The Seed of My Insecurities. I have no use for you anymore.
As I climb back down, I see Mire standing on the beach watching me. She seems to be waiting for something...an invitation? I wave to her and she starts running toward me full speed. I laugh, mirroring her actions and we crash into each other full force. We're laughing, and I'm shaking, on the verge of tears, but I feel stronger than I've felt in...well, maybe ever.
And I'm high on life...again. God, why did I ever need drugs? Happiness is so much better.
My two days in Finesterre were beautiful. To due them justice in words would take a few more posts, I think, so I'll give the briefest of summary's. I'd hate to cheapen the experience.
Finesterre was campfires on the beach, sandy yoga at sunrise, freezing our asses off under the night sky, barbecue, cuddle puddles with friends, singing my soul out in front of strangers, being open, bear hugs, laughter, meteor showers, watching schools of dolphins play from the cliff side, sharing everything...including, but not limited to; kindness, love, food, drinks, stories, hugs, massages, fires, sleeping bags...Finesterre was glasses of Sangria, walking barefoot through the water, turning strangers into friends, honest words, remembering to trust the moment, crying from the beauty that is life (pain included), singing together as we walked down a mountain, feeling content. Finesterre was completion. The end of the world. The end of a journey. The start of another.
But I suppose, seeing how fast they got started, it makes sense. The four of us, the power team plus our newest member, Lukas, put our packs on one more time and hike the last four kilometers to the zero point. The End of the World.
We sit huddled together as a tangled mess of bodies, despite the heat, and stare in wonder at the beauty around us.
And in the words of Jim Morrison, "This is the end...my dearest friend, the end."
 |
| We were overwhelmed with emotion. |
Mire leaves soon after we've returned from the end point.
And then there are three.
We jump on a bus back to Santiago, and Lukas leaves us once we arrive.
Then there are two.
I crash hard after dinner, the exhaustion I haven't felt through the journey finally catching me. At four AM, Ruud wakes me up to say goodbye, and after whispered farewells in a dark dormitory...there was one.
A weird feeling. To wake up, and once again, be on my own. After so much closeness, friendship, love, caring for one another. We're back to just me.
But as much as I already miss all my beautiful, light-bringing Camigos, I find I'm not sad. Though I do seem to be floating through a dream-like state as I revisit many of the places we discovered together. Perhaps it's a little dimmer now...or maybe it's just a different filter on the camera of life. Who knows.
I retrieve my pack from the post office where it's been waiting for me, and for the first time in weeks I put on regular clothes and shoes. I step out of the hostel and immediately I'm stopped by a Spanish family, asking for directions. To my surprise, I actually understand and know where they need to go. I direct them, and when I turn away, I can't help but laugh. Nobody asks pilgrims for directions, we're just as lost as you. I guess it's official...the Camino has come to an end for this pilgrim.
So what was the Camino for me?
The Camino was putting my trust in strangers I would never meet. Ghosts in the night, painting yellow arrows in all the right places, so that just when I was starting to think I was lost....bam! There is the way.
The Camino was opening myself to new people, new love, new experiences.
It was proving to myself that I am capable of such a task. But not only that...it was showing myself that Everyone is capable of such a task...you just have to be determined enough.
It was remembering that it's okay to ask for my space...to say I want to walk alone, or be alone. It was learning that the people who respect and love me will be okay with that space being necessary.
It's not personal.
We all need space.
And that they will be there for me when I've had enough for the time.
It was remembering to be honest. With everyone, but especially, with myself.
To examine, accept, and challenge my emotions as necessary.
To slow my steps. Considerably.
To stop rushing toward the finish line.
To enjoy every second of the journey.
To put it simply, the Camino was an incredible experience. Challenging, beautiful, and certainly an aid for growth.
Thank you to every amazing soul I met along the Way. You showed me that the light hasn't gone out in the world. That all we have to do is open our eyes for it.
As Ruud so beautifully wrote to me before we separated, "Wherever you are, you will never be alone, because I will be somewhere in the world, loving you." And I feel this for all of you. Thank you. From the bottom of my soul.
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