Letters to a Muse: The Week of Walk
6/5/05
It has been awhile since I wrote. I began the pilgrimage one week ago at 6:30 am in Roncesvalles. I´ve been lost in a world of wonder, pain, and glory since. I´ve already decided that long walks must be natural to my soul and that a through hike along the Great Wall of China is next. Every night is a bit of a nightmare. The cheapest lodging (around 6$ US) is in buildings set up specifically for pilgrims. Known as "Albergues" they are, ironically, one of the closest places to hell I´ve ever known. Well...that´s not fair. There are some very beautiful ones; places that most pilgrims don´t find. Small farmhouses and converted barns atop hillsides in the middle of the country. Others, ah, those refuges of the weak mind and maligned spirit. 150 people packed into a small house; farts, snores, foot smells, and general rudeness. Marathons of bad manners. I´m not being fair. I´m bitching. But I suppose I entered this (despite my best attempts to the contrary) with some preconceptions. One of them was that anyone who decided to do a pilgrimage such as this would naturally have to be of a kind, generous, and considerate disposition. That is just simply not the case. I´ve met some real gems in just the first 120 km.
Whatever...
This morning around 3 km after setting out I came across a FOUNTAIN OF WINE. Specifically set-up for pilgrims it is along the pilgrimage route. At 7:30 in the morning there were clusters of people, all ages, all nationalities, on foot, on bike, stopping to drink directly by mouth, then fill up water jugs with wine. I suppose that helps a bit with other aspects...
Right now it´s 11 am. I´ve been walking since 7. I stopped in a grove of trees that are similar to Elm but not quite the same. They drop huge amounts of a cottony substance all over the ground. I haven´t yet been able to deduct the ecology of this phenomenon that is completely new to me but I´m sure I´ll look it up at some point. I´m drinking from my Nalgene bottle of wine, sitting in a grove that looks as though a sleeping bag exploded on it. I´m so content.
It has been awhile since I wrote. I began the pilgrimage one week ago at 6:30 am in Roncesvalles. I´ve been lost in a world of wonder, pain, and glory since. I´ve already decided that long walks must be natural to my soul and that a through hike along the Great Wall of China is next. Every night is a bit of a nightmare. The cheapest lodging (around 6$ US) is in buildings set up specifically for pilgrims. Known as "Albergues" they are, ironically, one of the closest places to hell I´ve ever known. Well...that´s not fair. There are some very beautiful ones; places that most pilgrims don´t find. Small farmhouses and converted barns atop hillsides in the middle of the country. Others, ah, those refuges of the weak mind and maligned spirit. 150 people packed into a small house; farts, snores, foot smells, and general rudeness. Marathons of bad manners. I´m not being fair. I´m bitching. But I suppose I entered this (despite my best attempts to the contrary) with some preconceptions. One of them was that anyone who decided to do a pilgrimage such as this would naturally have to be of a kind, generous, and considerate disposition. That is just simply not the case. I´ve met some real gems in just the first 120 km.
Whatever...
This morning around 3 km after setting out I came across a FOUNTAIN OF WINE. Specifically set-up for pilgrims it is along the pilgrimage route. At 7:30 in the morning there were clusters of people, all ages, all nationalities, on foot, on bike, stopping to drink directly by mouth, then fill up water jugs with wine. I suppose that helps a bit with other aspects...
Right now it´s 11 am. I´ve been walking since 7. I stopped in a grove of trees that are similar to Elm but not quite the same. They drop huge amounts of a cottony substance all over the ground. I haven´t yet been able to deduct the ecology of this phenomenon that is completely new to me but I´m sure I´ll look it up at some point. I´m drinking from my Nalgene bottle of wine, sitting in a grove that looks as though a sleeping bag exploded on it. I´m so content.
posted by Holly at 6:47 AM
4 Comments:
Fear,disappointment and anger come from expectations.No expectation,no disapointment.Anger is from a contradiction of an expectation.
Uncharted Terror
Uncharted terror is when you are completely terrorized. It’s often terror you haven't seen before. It only comes when you stop being completely arseholic and you embrace the feminine spirit. I’ve done a lot of uncharted terror in my life--it taught me to be brave. I found out bravery is not the absence of fear; it’s being able to operate effectively when scared shitless.
Well, I´m glad I´m not the only arsehole around...
Some things to reflect upon on the next leg.
The warrior: silent in his struggle, undetainable because he has nothing to lose, functional and efficacious because he has everything to gain.
“I do my thing and you do yours. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, then it is beautiful. If not, it can't be helped.”
We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
“I am open to the guidance of synchronicity, and do not let expectations hinder my path.”
hurm...maybe there´s some wisdom in what you are saying...I must be incredibly stupid because that´s how I´m seeing "things" right now.
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