Greetings from Zubiri, in Navarra region of Spain (Basque country).
It occurs to me that on this pilgrimage there is an overwhelming amount of material about which one could write. The beauty, the people one meets from all over the globe, the creatures great and small and many other aspects of the journey thus far are all fodder for reflection. It is difficult to discern if this is because of there being something inherently exceptional about these or if it is due to one's heightened awareness while on pilgrimage. Probably both of these factor into the equation.
Having read several books/journals of other pilgrims and watched plenty of video clips of the same, there is also the temptation to forget that this Camino is my own (or our own as Jenny is with me) and it is not important to mimic what others have done with respect to where they stayed, the sights they photographed or the insights they gleaned. This also rings true regarding this blog. While I would wish to write as well as others or seem as insightful as they, I am learning to come to terms with who I am and be content in this. And from this perspective I will be sharing from my own Camino reflections in hope that it might bring perspective, joy, insight or peace to some of you who chose to follow. With all this in mind, here are the two themes that have been my companions for the first 2 days of this journey: fog and crosses.
Day one was extremely challenging physically. We walked perhaps 9 kms ascending almost constantly and at an incline that was beyond anything I could train for in the area we reside. For perspective, at my less than impressive height of 5'8" (sorry for mixing metric and imperial measure, but I suspect I am not alone for Canadians my age in this regard), if I looked straight ahead with a level I would see the feet of a person only 12 yards ahead of me. Then we descended from this 1400 meters (4600 ft) also at a very difficult angle for perhaps 9 kms. Finally, we walked relatively flat terrain from Roncesvilles to Burgette and our first accommodation.
Now, aside from the grade, the most prominent aspect of yesterday's pilgrimage was the fog. And I don't mean the kind of fog I might encounter at home. I mean the kind of fog in which at 25 meters you begin to suspect an animal nearby but cannot discern if it is a cow or horse, at 20 you cannot seen another human at all, and the kind that makes your hair drip as though in the rain. This kind of fog was our constant companion all the way up and part of the way down our first Pyrenees experience.
The fog was disappointing: we knew we were surrounded by spectacular beauty, high peaks, deep and lush valleys in which we could hear rushing streams and we typically would see great distances and tiny villages below. However, we saw none of this. Part of my daily prayer includes asking God to help me be attentive to what is real, to what or whom is present rather than living in the realm of "if only", or "I wish". Panting and stumbling I began to let go of the disappointment of what I could not see and began to attend to what was. And it turns out that what was, was sounds. Bells worn by flocks of sheep, by horses and cows. Voices and the click of trekking poles hitting rock. Fog was our constant companion but so was sound, so were people and animals. This awareness began to give me this odd joy, delight and peace. The bells made me smile. The voices reminded me that we were part of a large company of pilgrims. My mind went to the "great cloud of witnesses" of Hebrews 12 and the comfort of those with us, even if not always visible as well as those who have previously travel this pilgrimage, both the physical Camino de Santiago and the more general walk of faith. I am thankful for the fog now, it occluded some things but revealed others. The former make great pictures, the later make for great "travel" companions in life.
Crosses. They exist back home, but are ubiquitous here. In two days I have viewed more than I can recount. They are on churches, monasteries, chapels, monuments, memorials, Camino markers and on homes.
"So that as we draw near to Jesus Christ lifted up, His cross becomes for us the axis of love expressed in forgiveness that reforms the world."
Here is another example:
"Lord Jesus, you stretched out your arms of love upon the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your name. Amen."
These prayers have been shaping me for some time. And as a Jesus follower and pastor the crucifixion of Jesus is obviously central to my life. Yet, somehow seeing these crosses, these prominent visual reminders of stone, wood, metal and paint seemingly everywhere in Spain, have magnified the outrageously generous love of God expressed in the embracing arms of Jesus and have, by extension, been challenging my lack of wide eyed, generous hearted embrace of all God put in my path. Lord have mercy on me.
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I found it interesting that the fog limited what you could see but in reality there is all the beauty around, just out of sight. Sometimes we just have to wait the fog out and keep moving forward sista Sharon
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your journey and the lessons learned🙏🙏🙏
ReplyDeleteWe dont have to see everything, just the sound, smell is plenty full
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