I have done nothing the last month except walk to my next destination each day.
Although, I should say this with a grain of salt because there were days where we exceeded or fell short of our projected stopping place. We were simply walking, always moving forward, but never consumed with the forecast, just the next step ahead…
Thus, in my return to a world which overvalues a five-year plan and every single thing seems to be consumed with the business of everything except itself, I can’t help but feel a bit alien.
It was my intention to record my thoughts and journey along the Camino far more than I did, but I was simply there, trying to absorb every aspect of the experience. From where I sit now, I feel a deeper understanding of the Camino and its significance in my life with come seeping through the cracks during this return to “normal” life.
Now, over a week since our arrival in Santiago de Compostela, I can say with certainty that I feel like a different version of myself—same internal battles, but maybe more strength to overcome them?
Although, this could just be wishful thinking. I still have not been left to face myself for long enough to verify this claim, but it’s an ongoing process either way. For weeks I have been alternating between physical occupation, mental exhaustion, fatigue, elation, irritation, overwhelm, sadness, and doubt, but it was all fleeting. I knew that the pain I felt in the evenings would be gone in the morning, the friendships we had were all in passing, but because if it, they held a deeper significance where presence was of utmost importance.
Not to mention the frustrations I encountered which were, for the most part, of a simpler matter, often regarding the way I improperly fueled myself for the day, maybe drinking too much wine at dinner, or feeling unnecessarily impatient with those around me and noticing my reactivity.
All of these are good things and have instilled a practice of my understanding of self. However, I was on a pilgrimage, but not one which I completed alone. Both of us on our own journey, but in close enough proximity to each other to lean-on whenever we needed.
With that said, I wasn’t left to the (sometimes) destructive state of self which I find myself in when left entirely to my own devices because I had my best friend to keep me in check and challenge the early stages of this destructive force.
Last night when I was entirely alone—left to sleep off the head cold I caught—I was also left with my thoughts for the first time since leaving home. I tried at first to distract myself with mindless scrolling, with pacing my breath, rotating through all the resting positions I could think of in hopes that I’d shake off the anxiety of the “real world” creeping in, but it persisted—thoughts of war, my role in this world, and projections of the future on both a personal and worldly scale.
Just as the quantity of people in the cities which we passed through felt overwhelming, but now feel less-so, I must re-adjust to this internal noise when in the presence of abundant external noise.
I cannot just walk the rest of my life. I cannot just keep moving in one given direction to avoid subjection to my thoughts when the mind finds stillness.
Physically, my body has slowed after so much exertion. Even if we had continued walking past Santiago, my body would’ve forced me to stop. The uproar of the tendons in my feet from carrying me across a nation has now even limited my backpack-less city-strolling (for the time being).
These physical limits allow room for the mental and spiritual realizations to surface. As I mentioned earlier, I feel they will seep through the cracks of this next transitional period.
Again, what makes this readjustment all the more overwhelming—and not necessarily in a bad way because I am filled with so much gratitude as well—is the downfall of the world which surrounds me.
To the east, there are now two, extremely detrimental wars which the country I am from, to my west, is tearing itself apart trying to figure out what the best way is to intervene. Quite literally caught in the middle, I feel helpless, simultaneously grateful and guilty for living in this fairytale where I get to explore ancient landscapes and palaces, but also an obligation to remain as informed as posible in the midst of it all while trying to keep my overly-empathic self from falling into a a depressive state of hopelessness.
At the same time, all of this operates in the back ground. I am still traveling with my best friend, trying to make the most of our once-in-a-lifetime trip and now that we have finished walking, start planning my life afterwards.
My awareness feels very divided in this moment. My physical body is moving towards Spain, my heart towards the Middle East, my mind towards the west, and I’m still trying to keep my energy centered. I suppose this is life regardless—learning to find balance and stillness amidst the chaos.
Isabella Elena 