Bill was always present if we needed something throughout our camino. Him being easily contactable was a good sense of safety and support. I enjoyed the writing workshops from Bill during our meetings in Burgos and Santiago, I think these were helpful. I do think Bill had very minimal student interaction, and some people could have benefited from Bill reaching out more.
Self Evaluation
And so there it happened, 57 days on the camino. 8 weeks of walking, chatting, observing, and learning. But what happened with me? I found my wings again- I remembered how to live for myself.
June 3rd will mark three years since my world turned upside down. Three years ago my mom died in a freak accident. I cut ties with all my friends, completely did a 180 with who I was as a person, and my only priority in life was living for my mom. Now I’ve done three years of that. I’ve worked so hard the last three years to stay distant from people, out of protection for myself. I don’t want to risk losing someone that I depend on because of how I felt after losing my mother. I’ve pushed myself to be completely independent and I’ve made all of my decisions in life based on what my mom would have done- I went to Evergreen because I remembered her telling my older sister that she thought it was a good school, I took as many of her clothes as I could and wore them nearly every day, and I chose to follow her spirituality practices of pagan and buddhist practices: burning sage and sitting with crystals, performing ceremonies even when I had no idea what I was doing. But forgetting to consult myself in what I wanted.
In the second week of this camino things started to shift. I tried to chase my familiar independence by taking off out of Logroño on my own. I knew about the sexual predators that other girls had suffered on the trail, but I was too stubborn to let anything squash my independence. And then it was taken from me. I was lying by a lake soaking up the sun when a gardener of the city approached me and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me with him. I yelled at him and we took off in opposite directions. When I got to town I called a classmate and swallowed my pride to admit that I needed to walk with them. For the first time in three years I couldn’t be enough for myself. I couldn’t do it alone. I had to begin to trust and depend on other people, which was unfamiliar and scary, but necessary. At the time it was a small step, but now, 6 weeks later, I can see that this was the beginning of me learning how to trust again. About 4 weeks later I found myself in solitude, just watching a herd of cows. I started reflecting on my life and I felt like I had a smaller support system than most of the people around me. Of course I have people in my life that love me and support me, but I realized that cutting ties and guarding myself from trusting too much left me feeling so alone and without guidance. I know I can take care of myself; I’ve done it for three years, but maybe I would benefit from letting people in. It still scares me because of the pain I felt when I lost someone that I trusted would be there, but little by little I have been breaking down my walls and trusting again. It hasn’t bitten me in the butt yet.
With this, I have been remembering that I should live how I want to. A few weeks ago I had a long conversation with the one person in this class that knew me well pre-camino. He seemed confused with how I had chosen to experience this camino- questioning me in why I was walking with people so different from people I surrounded myself before. He could see that I was less internal and more chasing a good time, which was unlike me. At first I felt guilty that I had strayed away from the Fern that I was familiar with. I was disappointed in myself for prioritizing different things. But the next day I dove into it during my walk and I came to realize that people change. I can change. Change is growth. I have been used to making my decisions based on my mom and now I have been figuring out how to recognize and validate my wishes aside from my mom’s. I wasn’t put on this earth to be a mini-me of her. It has helped my grieving because trying to be like my mom helps to keep her alive for me. But now I see that I need to live for myself. And I know she would be more proud of me for that than anything else.
This camino has played out differently than I envisioned it. I have become friends with people I may not have wanted to be friend with three months ago. I have been chasing a good time and letting people in more than I did three months ago. But I have learned and grown just as much from it as I did spending 7 weeks on the Pacific Crest Trail alone. I have made the decision to take control of how I live and to stop being pulled down by the anchor of grieving my mother. I’m starting with baby steps, but these baby steps have gotten me to Santiago with plenty of learning and growth in my backpack.
Independent Project- Meditation
The camino has been full of spiritually, magic and miracles. I’ve seen spirituality to some extent in most of the pilgrims walking alongside me. Whether they are walking this as a Catholic pilgrimage to see the destination of Saint James, or walking it as a Grandpa; retired, bored, and looking to find the fire in life again- bringing questions of beliefs and faith to the young people on the trail. Or walking it as a young person; just graduated from college and trying to figure out themself, hoping they’ll get a hint out here. It seems that doing this kind of thing makes most people think about questions like, “Where did I come from?”, “Where do I go after this life?” or “Does it really matter if I don’t pay for this ice cream?” And maybe for some it may just be a passing thought, but others spend weeks of walking dissecting these questions. I tumble questions like these through my head quite regularly, and I believe that talking to other people about them helps. So naturally, I had conversations with other pilgrims about these subjects. These are some of the most influential for me;
Paul, from Great Britain, walks two weeks of the camino every year. I mentioned a meditation practice and he excitedly told me that he has been practicing transcendental meditation (silent, sitting meditation) since 1976. He started meditating on a trip to India with his girlfriend, who ended up leaving him on the trip. He found meditation to be an outlet for stress and and a way to interact more consciously and calmly with the world. When I asked about the label of ‘religious or ‘spiritual’ and asked if he considered himself spiritual because of his meditation practice, he answered, “I wouldn’t be so presumptuous to say I’m spiritual.”
His walking parter, Gray, also had things to say on the subject. Gray practices transcendental meditation as well, but not on a daily basis. He first tried it with a guide because he wanted to become more grounded and says that during his first session, “I completely left myself.” He told me how he can see that it’s so difficult for people today to take even a two minute break for their mind. He says the point of meditation is to stop the chatter so that you can be open to experiencing the present moment. Our conversation turned into philosophy and questions like “What is the point of life?” and “What do you believe happens after you die?” Gray reasoned with me saying that if I didn’t want to know things like what day I would die or how my whole life would play out, why would I want to know what happens after we die or what the point of living is. He talked about how there is wisdom in living with uncertainty; the past and the future are irrelevant to enjoying the present moment and meditation helps us focus on this more easily.
I walked for a day with Jacob, from Denmark. Conversation flowed easily and it was a matter of time before meditation and spirituality came up. I asked him if he had any meditation practice and he told me that no, he didn’t practice meditation. However, in another conversation about walking he talked about loving walking because it allowed his brain to slow down and move at the speed of his body. He enjoyed being able to ‘check out’ and walk for hours- content in his mental state. Earlier that morning he had ‘checked out’ walking and just followed the backpack in front of him. When he checked ‘back in’ he realized that he had been following the person for hours and had gotten way off the camino because of it. After saying this, he realized something and told me. “Well, yes, I guess maybe I do meditate.”
I enjoyed many conversations on the subject with Leonie, the German girl that we walked with for nearly 2 weeks. Leonie was raised catholic, and still has belief and and respect for the religion. Alongside that, she does have a mindfulness practice and enjoys studying the buddha and subjects related, including meditation. Leonie is a high energy girl and said she struggles with sitting meditations. She practices yoga regularly and said that she feels like this is a meditative practice in the way that it connects her mind and body through the breath. I talked to her about the walking meditations I have been doing, thinking she would enjoy this style too.
I also learned mindfulness in the animals on the trail. There was no lack of trailside farm animals to accompany me on this walk. I stopped quite a few times to be with these animals. My first day walking on the Norte was a rainy morning, and as I was struggling trying not to let it kill my mood, I came upon a herd of sheep. They were out in an open lawn with no cover, and yet they were standing in the rain looking completely content. I thought of this as very admirable- they had a achieved exactly what so many people want to achieve through meditation; existing in the present moment with no attachments.
I had a similar experience watching a herd of cows. I sat at the edge of their grazing lands for nearly two hours one day, just observing. I watched the cows interact with each other, and as individuals. I came to see that these animals seemed to be in the same state of present-moment awareness because of the way they could just stand in one place for 10 minutes or make slow movements in a new direction. Maybe it’s because their brains are less complex, but I have learned a lot from watching sheep and cows being mindfulness role models.
I also enjoyed reading the book Siddhartha for my project. This is the story of a yogi along his spiritual journey as he follows different teachers, and eventually ends up following the buddha. This book had many good themes of not trusting or following ideals just because you were told to, but following because you feel that it is right for you. In the book, Siddhartha‘s friend follows him throughout his different exploratory endeavors; following for a while, and then. His friend can finally see that he is not on the same journey as Siddhartha and leaves once starts following the buddha. This book also had simple meditation techniques for transcendental, mantra, and movement meditations which was helpful in expanding my own meditation practice.
As for my own practice, I found it to be very helpful that I had all day to walk. For me, movement meditations are easier than sitting meditations. On this camino I have mostly been practicing walking meditation and yoga for mindfulness. For my walking meditation, I would count 4 steps with my in-breath and 4 steps with my out-breath. This became a little more difficult once I started walking the Norte because it’s less flat, and therefore made my breathing uneven. I would usually do this for about 10 minutes during my walk, and it would always feel good to connect my mind to my body. It’s too easy to walk all day and not realize that you’re walking. I can get so caught up and focused on my conversations or what’s around me that I forget to pay attention to what’s happening with me. How fast are my feet moving? What are my arms doing? Am I walking in a rushed way or a relaxed way? Walking meditations always helped to bring my attention back to this present moment and to be here with my body while I walked.
Daily yoga was also a cherished meditation practice, similar to my walking meditation, I enjoyed this for the way that it connects my body and mind through attention to my breath. I would usually find a grassy patch in the morning of my walk and stop to do my regular 3 sun salutations. This was always helpful in jumpstarting my body for a long day of walking, and getting the oxygen flowing to my brain; allowing me to feel more awake and happier.
Overall, this camino has been helpful in allowing me to establish a regular meditation practice and to connect with other people on the trail with this attention to mindfulness.
Learning How Young I am
As a 19 year-old it’s been easy to be excited about how “old” I am these last couple years. Moving away from home for the first time this fall made me feel like I was launched into adulthood…. And yet it seems that the older I get, the more I learn, the more people meet, and the more experiences I have the younger and more naive I feel. I have been learning that being an “adult” means much more than my preconceived idea of knowing how to cook pasta and remembering to do your taxes. The last week I have been walking with people aged 21, 22, 24, and 26. For most of our days’ conversation I didn’t feel any younger or different than the rest of them, but sometimes politics or careers would be brought up. Although I consider myself to be an informed, active young person I could tell that my age actually made a difference sometimes. I realized that I am still trying to figure out who I even am outside of my parents’ nest. It became apparent to me that my political views were mostly just myself blindly following the people around me without really dissecting an issue. As I listened to the educated adults around me discuss these subjects I could see how they all had reasons for believing the way that they did. And with time, I will as well.
Exciting Hello’s & Bittersweet Goodbye’s
I have been riding the sweet wave of accomplishment for a couple days now. We walked into Santiago de Compostela the morning of the 20th. When I finally approached the cathedral that I have had in the back of my mind for nearly 5 months now I was overcome with a sense of accomplishment and pride. 7 weeks of walking that was filled with blisters, being woken up throughout the night by other pilgrims in hostels, losing belongings, losing my mind here and there, taking a wrong turn and having to backtrack, sunburns, stinky clothes, and everything else that tested my motivation was suddenly a million times worth it. But at the same time time I was overcome with sadness. Sadness that 2 months had flown by so quickly, and sadness to have to say goodbye to Leonie and Mirium, who we had been laughing our way down the trail with for 10 days and had become fast friends. I think the hardest part of traveling is making friends and having to say goodbye with no certainty when you will see them again. But I suppose it’s good to spread your heart out all over the world.
Santiago is full of all kinds of travelers. Plenty of pilgrims flooded the church for mass on Sunday, and the priest read out all the different countries that people had arrived from today; the list seemed never ending. The roads of this sought-after city are rimmed with street performers, artists, and people from almost any background you could imagine. It feels surreal to be in this city that us pilgrims have had as a fantasy this whole walk. But we made it!
We Found Jesus in the Forest
Our walk today brought us by a hidden church nestled in the bright green Galician forests. I thought the church seemed out of place when I first saw it after rounding the corner; the trail lined with dense trees- trunks blanketed in vines and fiddlehead ferns uncurling for summer. But after walking around the aged building it became apparent to me that the church was as familiar with this forest as any of the trees in it. The walls housed old lichen families and insect communities. The cross with Mary and Jesus was covered in nearly enough moss to blend in with its surroundings. It was a sacred place, no doubt: honoring both human-bodied holiness and earth-bodied holiness alike.
The previous evening, as us 5 pilgrims were strolling through town with hungry bellies, we went into a modern-looking burger place. We asked in broken spanish what time they opened, and the owner warmly replied that it was his day off and he was just in to prepare food for the next day. He started proudly talking about his food, and without a hesitation he offered to open his restaurant just for the 5 of us. We all returned at 7 and walked into the place which was filled with the sounds of purple Purple Rain. We sat in a row at the bar and he smiled at us saying, “but first, we sing”. We all chimed in for the chorus before ordering delicious burgers. He told us that he had to quit his other job due to a stroke, and had been slowly remembering how to speak english and spanish and use his body. He continued chatting us up throughout dinner and cracking a smile when we would sing along to his 80s rock and roll playlist. After dinner he insisted on shots for us on the house and a picture before saying goodbye only until our return the next morning for breakfast. His welcoming, caring spirit is exactly the type of thing that makes the camino what it is.
Culture Mix!
Harry and I have been enjoying the company of two German girls; Miri and Leonie. They both started walking the Norte solo, and met each other along the trail. Miri, a vegetarian, shares my need for veggies (which the country of Spain doesn’t) and my post-vegan self has been enjoying splitting loaded salads and veggie pastas with someone. Miri just graduated with a bachelor’s degree and has unmatched enthusiastic throughout the day. Leonie has an energetic, humorous way of going about life always finds good conversation for our days. It’s nice to be with other young people, because it seems like a good majority of pilgrims are over 50.
We strolled through the town of Abadín in the afternoon. It seemed like an average quiet town until we were snacking on a bench and a parade started to come around the corner. It had bagpipe players, drummers, dancers, and a float with Mother Mary in it. After the parade passed, a Reggeton band started playing and families started flooding in to the town center. We learned that they were celebrating the day of Saint Fatima. It was a festive sight to see!
I’m Still In Awe of You, Spain
Suddenly the destination seems to be comprehendible for the first time. I am 150 kilometers from Santiago; 9 days of walking left. I’m sitting in the plaza of Mondoñedo, under yet another mind boggling cathedral. Intricate carvings inviting me in through the ancient doorways and some chipped corners and splintered wood showing the time that the building has withstood. Although I’ve been in europe for seven weeks it still seems so surreal to me to even be here. I still get taken aback by the old Spanish ladies smiling from their well-loved gardens, more than willing to point us pilgrims in the right direction. I still seem to be surprised to walk into a market and see 2€ wine.
I said ‘see ya later’ to the ocean two days ago, by frolicking along a sandy beach and then running into the powerful waves for another big ocean-hug, despite the drizzly clouds above me. The trail is making its way inland towards Santiago now and we have been tromping through more luscious rolling hills.
Am I Home?
It’s funny how the sound of powerful waves crashing against rocks is both the most intimidating and comforting sound known to me. Visiting the ocean is always so humbling for me; and now, traveling alone along the coast of a foreign country is no different. Being at the ocean has made me feel strangely at home, 5,000 miles away from home. Beach-combing for little heart rocks brings my mom right next to me, reading Siddhartha is no different than an average summer evening having a conversation with my dad by the river, and skipping through the glittery waves transports me to being 7 years-old skipping along the Washington coast. It’s strange to feel so at home here. But I’ve come to realize that this little blue backpack I carry everywhere has become as much of a home to me as the little white house in Leavenworth that I grew up in for 16 years is. Home sweet home.
I’m met with solitude once again, but for the first time on this camino. After a month of walking with classmates I was itching for some time on my own. Yesterday was my second day on my own. I left the city of Aviles and got lost in the familiar rhythm of walking until a few miles in when I stopped for coffee. I decided to check on the map where I was and learned that I was far from the Camino. Luckily, thanks to living in the age of technology, I was able to Google maps the little beach town I wanted to sleep in and I followed that the rest of the afternoon. As I was walking along the road, I took a detour down a gravel road for a pee break. A little bit down this road I saw another little trail leading to a small shack and I followed my curiosity down the trail. To my surprise I stumbled upon two heartbroken and neglected dogs. Their toenails were long and curled over, the ground was covered in poop and the one water bowl inside was mucky and filled with hair. I could see infected sores on one’s belly and so much sadness in their eyes. I broke down at the sight of them and started crying right in front of their cage. I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do which was almost the worst part. I spent the next few miles trying to understand why I have been so lucky in this life, but others have been dealt so much pain. I never came to a conclusion.
Hitchhiking Abroad
I got into San Juan De La Arena, where I would stay, in the early afternoon. I spent the rest of the sunny day playing and swimming at the beach. When evening rolled around I decided I would go check into the albergue only to find that it was closed. I scrambled around town trying to ask locals what to do, but being unable to understand their replies. Finally, I decided my only option was to sleep in the next town, 7K away. By this time it too late in the evening to walk there before dark. So I had to trust in old-fashioned hitchhiking. Not even a second after sticking out my thumb, a car pulled over. The driver was a friendly guy who was going to university in Gijón and had no problem taking me to San Estaban. By 7:30 I had a bed and could enjoy my dinner. Now I know to check in to my albergue BEFORE I play!