A few weeks ago I walked into an art gallery with a section of purchasable antiques. Among them, a Catholic candle with the words “abre el camino” painted on the side. Amidst my preparations for the Camino de Santiago—which as I write this, is one week away—it certainly caught my eye.
“Abre el Camino,” meaning, “open the way” perfectly describes the stage of life I am in at the moment. I have been opening doors, peering in to see what aligns with me, what I would like to pursue, and the space in the world I want to occupy. The last few years I have begun to experiment with the types of relationships I wish to develop, past-times, and dreaming about different career paths, imagining myself in an environment where I could be both passionate and flexible in my work.
The road ahead is open and free for me to carve my own path, but the un-treaded overgrowth is intimidating to say the least. The often crippling anxiety and habituated fixation on the “what if’s” get the best of me at times of uncertainty, but I am learning to release the stronghold I have on needing to know where I am headed.
The truth is, I have absolutely no idea. I spent most of the last year living alone in Barcelona with the intention of beginning Spanish university this fall. An impulsive decision to move abroad which cultivated strength and confidence in my abilities may not have panned out the way I had intended, but it did enable my path to broaden—my mind expanding with potential. I built life-long friendships, learned to (more or less) care for myself, navigate foreign systems, and communicate as if I were an adult, and not withholding the naivety of an 18 year old girl.
As I return to Spain, after spending a summer back in the United States, I have much different intentions. Moving forward, I wish to develop a spiritual aspect of myself and tap into how I can cultivate strength and help those around me, both inside and outside of the career in which I end up.
Writing and hearing the stories other people can offer has always been of interest to me. The expansion of my perspective on western culture as I bounce between Europe and the United States has furthered this desire. The path is wide open as I begin to find a niche where I combine all my interests—climbing, movement, travel, writing, and story telling. I am beyond thrilled to have accepted this opportunity, and with my best friend.
We are both rendered speechless as our departure encroaches—the excitement (mostly) exceeding the anxiety. This trip for her, is entirely new, and new territory for me as well despite some experience backpacking and traveling in Spain. We are young, strong, and most of all, open to the path which will unfold.
I am not Catholic, nor would I label myself as a Christian. I have gone to church, I pray, I turn to religious practices when my life feels out of control and when surrender seems to be the only solution to inner and outer chaos. My mother’s family was Catholic and I attended an Episcopalian school growing up, but was exposed to Buddhist and Taoist principles as I grew older and begun to develop my own system of beliefs. I am still learning and currently hesitant to label myself as anything, but I do believe in a collective oneness, and in our ability to “transcend” whatever worldly troubles we are experiencing through practices of non-attachment. The belief that we are, or working with, something far greater than us, brings me comfort
When I was living in Barcelona after I graduated high school, I would sit in these beautiful, artistically constructed places of worship in both admiration and humility. Churches, especially those with so much history, have an energy which, quite literally, brings me to my knees. The experience of beauty and overwhelming love which often washes over me, is a special one.
These experiences, combined with intermittent practices of prayer, meditation, and yoga have cultivated a desire to further my spiritual practice. It has been my saving grace, and I see those around me with a devout practice able to navigate great devastation because of the strength and love of god (or other power) pouring through them. They hold faith in the unfolding of their life and are able to let go when it serves them.
In observing people and thinking about our historic hold on faith, I feel it is human nature to want to believe that whatever plagues us individually, or is experienced in the collective, are part of a greater plan—and of course, that life is worth living. A spiritual practice which can bear the weight of any peril can be really beautiful.
I will be posting my thoughts and realizations which arise throughout my pilgrimage and hopefully, some of it will resonate. I invite you to follow along if it feels right for you.
Much love,
Isabella
Isabella Elena 