Post Camino wrap-up

"Now the years are rolling by me
they are rocking evenly
and I am older than I once was
younger than I'll be, but that's not unusual
No, it isn't strange,
after changes upon changes we are more or less the same
after changes, we are more or less the same"
-Simon and Garfunkel from "The Boxer", live version

Note: It took me a while to try and organize my thoughts on the camino as a whole, and the entry below still feels incomplete. It's complete in my head, where it matters most, but I doubt I'll ever have the skill to express it fully in writing. But this is as close as I've come yet, and in the interest of wrapping this blog up, it'll have to do.

So, it's done. 51 days after Roncesvalles, I could stop referring to myself as a pilgrim. I think back, and while I still recall the hardships too well to romanticize the experience, the bad things don't seem as bad as they were at the time. And the challenges that once seemed so insurmountable were, in retrospect, very doable. The camino is like life in a compressed timeframe: full of hope and happiness and hardship. Full of hellos, conversations, and goodbyes. Full of inspiration and disappointment. Moments of crushing despair and soaring joy. I've felt it all. And I'm eager for more. They say the real camino starts once you arrive in Santiago. That the real camino is about how you take what you've learned here and apply it to the rest of your life. If so, I've got a lot of lessons to apply. And I can't wait to get started.

The things that really stick out for me now, over a week since I arrived in Santiago are the moments that made me feel good; The moments of simple fun, the moments of revalation, the moments of contemplation, the moments of feeling part of something bigger. Like the time in Grañon, with the prayer service and sing-along after the communal meal. Or that second night in León, which was every bit as fun, if a lot less wholesome. Or the moment on the Alto de Perdón outside of Pamplona where I finally forgave everyone who ever hurt or disappointed me. And that time a week later in Santo Domingo when I finally forgave myself. The endless trails of the meseta, which promised an eternity to think and infinite space to grow. Leaving my piece of home behind at the Cruz del Ferro, and realizing that I too was a pilgrim. Climing the mountain in the fog and walking it's crest in sunshine. All these moments wash over me still, like scenes from a vivid dream I once had. They all seem so distant, and yet so recent. So subtle, and yet so very powerful.

I remember also the wonderful people I met along the way: Jose Luis and Aurora, Cecile, Jessica, the two Francescas, Matias, Stephan, Aussie Mike, Toby, Michael, Sarah and family, and so many more that I couldn't list them, even if I had all the time and space in the world. Each of them enriched my camino in some way, and helped me figure a few things out whether they knew it or not. Though I mostly did my walking alone, partly by circumstance, and partly because I really needed to, the people I met while resting gave me a lot of the strength and determination I needed to move on. Both along the camino and in life. They helped to provide the courage I needed to face down my demons once and for all and finally start healing.

So what have I learned all these days? These days of hardship and happiness? In a nutshell, I think I learned what really mattered. And while very little of it was surprising, they are all hard-learned lessons that I'll always keep with me. So what matters? Forgiveness matters. Both of others and of yourself. Learning to let go of a hurt that had become a source of comfort over the years. That matters. Patience and persistence matter. Pride doesn't. Taking another step when all you want to do is rest. Or helping someone along when you barely have the strength to pick yourself up. That matters. Discovering your limits, physically and mentally, and realizing that they're further than you ever dreamed. That matters. Home matters. Family and friends matter. Learning that you can handle just about anything that's thrown your way. That matters.

And what has been gained? I would love to have said that I had a spiritual re-awakening along the Camino, but I honestly can't say that I did. In the end, unlike the Paolo Cuelhos and Shirley McLaines of the world, the camino wasn't a spiritual experience for me. It was a very human experience. But sometimes, the divine is more evident in a human experience than anywhere else. Through this human experience, I think I regained what I needed: I regained my faith and my hope. Faith in myself, faith in humanity, faith in the kindness of strangers. Faith in whatever makes the universe go around. I found hope in the discovery that even someone as lost as I was could eventually find their way. And in the understanding that, somewhere along the camino that I can't pinpoint, I made my peace with god. And more hope still in feeling at peace with who and what I am for the first time in as long as I can remember.

This is the last entry of my blog. I realize it's filled with contradictions and that it might easily be dismissed as nonsense. I make no apologies for that. It might be that camino experiences are one of those things that only have meaning to the person who experienced it. Maybe that's the point of the entire exercise. Many truths in life are subjective, and there are as many ways to interpret them as there are interpeters.

In any case, I do want to thank everyone who's been following along and leaving comments over the last little while. It meant a lot to me to know that people back home were interested in my comings and goings, even though writing the blog itself was a bit of a pain. I started off this entry by saying that the Camino is life in a compressed timeframe. As such, it's often used as a metaphor for life itself. And it is from that perspective that I wish you all a "buen camino".