Posts Tagged With: Thin Places

To Sahagun

When I left Albergue Jacque de Molay I had one of those first thing in the morning thrills of freedom. The day was wide open, and exciting. I love that feeling! Zing! My legs felt strong, and everything I had was on my back. (Well almost everything. My daypack  in the vestibule waiting for Jacotrans.) I wonder why I don’t feel it more often. It must be all the endorfins. 

The Camino followed the Autovia for most of the day. I enjoyed the huge directional sign that pretty much described my Camino 3.0: Burgos to Leon!

We also passed out of Palencia and into Leon. The way marker looked like it predates the Autovia.

I love the layers of ancient and modern along the Way.

A little farher on, I ran into Tami again. She had ended up at the other Albergue in town for the night. (There are less than 100 people in the village. The Albergues are the only businesses.)

It was good to see her, and we walked all the way to Sahagun together. We’d only met a few days ago, but it felt like I’d known her a long time. She and I were comfortable saying hello and good-bye, and wordlessly knew when to give each other space. We both wanted to experience the Camino solo, but enjoyed each others’ company. She had walked the whole Camino multiple times. The rigor and beauty of the Camino challenged her and gave her peace, as it did for me.

Her more evangelical vocabulary of faith was different than mine, and yet we talked about God and I enjoyed her perspective. She talked about “knowing Christ,” and it made me think, “do I know Christ? I strive to follow him, and worship him, but do I know him?” Thought-provoking.

The last few kilometers to Sahagun were tedious. The Camino wound through a lot of indescript and abandoned houses with “se vende” signs. Just as I was going into “grind it out” mode we came upon a spot that had a strong spiritual energy.

It was a like a place out of time: a little Roman bridge that crossed a fast-running river. The weeping willows were leafing out and there was an ancient (locked) chapel on the other side. We stopped and took pictures.

There’s that saying that pets cross over “the rainbow bridge” when they die. I wonder if I’ll cross over one of the many beautiful bridges on the Camino when it’s my turn.

Categories: April 2015, Santiago de Compostela | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“Thin Places” on the Camino; a Reflection on All Saints

Grave along the Camino

Grave along the Camino

I love the convergence of Halloween, All Saints and All Souls this time of year, as summer moves into fall.

Walking alone through ancient forests in Galicia

Walking alone through ancient forests in Galicifall.

In the Celtic tradition, this sequence of days at the turning of the seasons is considered a “thin place” when the veil between our everyday world and the world of the divine is especially thin.

I found the whole Camino to be a series of thin places, as if All Saints was stretched out over the north of Spain for the month of October. I had a series of unexpected moments when I was touched by the beauty of nature, history, art, and fellow pilgrims.  I also had several mysterious encounters that brought me close to loved ones who had died.

When I was resting and icing my ankle in the Albergue in Astorga, a Scandinavian man about  my age checked-in, and visited with me for a few minutes. He was a quiet person whom I later saw contemplating chess moves in the common room.

He seemed familiar, but I knew I hadn’t met him before.  Then it dawned on me that he looked just like my cousin from Sweden, who had died in the 1980’s.  If he had lived into his 50’s he would look a lot like this man at the Albergue.  I realized that I had not thought of my cousin in any serious way for many years.  Seeing his “double,” made me remember him with fondness.

A similar thing happened when I was walking one day, and noticed that my companion reminded me of someone.  She was forthright, and very down to earth.  We had a fun day together.  Later, I realized she reminded me of a relative who had passed away suddenly last year.

She and I had been close, but never seemed to make time to see each other.  I regretted now that we had only seen each other for holidays.  Spending the day with my Camino friend was like having some of that unstructured time I’d missed with my dear relative.

In 1996 my brother, my only sibling, died at 35 under sad circumstances.  There was mental illness and alcoholism involved.  By the time he died, we had not seen each other for a long time.

Tom Petty lyrics on the outskirts of Santiago

Tom Petty lyrics on the outskirts of Santiago

All along the Camino someone had posted Tom Petty lyrics on the backs of traffic signs, and on mileage markers.  It made me laugh because my brother had been a Tom Petty fan.  It made me remember a good memory of my brother as an adult.  There were times as I was walking alone that I felt a closeness to him, that he’s in a much better place.  Happy.

These experiences brought me to tears.  They were tears of sadness, and loss.    Perhaps I had not really grieved for these dear people? But also tears of joy and awe.  Maybe the Camino presented me with enough time to have an open heart so that I could feel more deeply, and could remember my loved ones in a fresh way.

Tears of amazement, too.  On the other side of the veil, my loved ones are alive in the Lord—I saw their reflection briefly in my fellow pilgrims.

Categories: Camino, Conversations on the Camino, October 2013, Reflections, Spirituality, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 7 Comments

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