The Camino and Me

The Camino and Me
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  • My Camino Story
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    • Camino Frances Introduction, Cork – St Jean Pied de Port
      • Day 1; St Jean Pied de Port – Roncesvalles
      • Day 2; Roncesvalles – Zubiri
      • Day 3; Zubiri – Pamplona
      • Day 4; Pamplona to Obanos
      • Day 5; Obanos – Estella
      • Day 6; Estella – Los Arcos
      • Day 7; Los Arcos – Logroño
      • Day 8; Logroño – Ventosa
      • Day 9; Ventosa – Cirueña
      • Day 10; Cirueña – Santo Domingo de la Calzada
      • Day 11; Santo Domingo – Belorado
      • Day 12; Belorado – San Juan de Ortega
      • Day 13; San Juan de Ortega – Burgos
      • Day 14; Burgos – Hontanas
      • Day 15; Hontanas – Castrojeriz
      • Day 16; Castrojeriz – Frómista
      • Day 17; Frómista – Carrión de los Condes
      • Day 18; Carrión de los Condes – Ledigos
      • Day 19; Ledigos – Calzadilla de los Hermanillos
      • Day 20; Calzadilla de los Hermanillos – Mansilla de las Mulas
      • Day 21; Mansilla de las Mulas – León
      • Day 22; Leon – Hospital de Órbigo
      • Day 23; Hospital de Órbigo – Astorga – 15 km
      • Day 24; Astorga – Foncebadón – 27.2 km
      • Day 25; Foncebadón- Ponferrada – 25 km
      • Day 26; Ponferrada – Villafranca del Bierzo – 23.5 km
      • Day 27; Villafranca del Bierzo – La Faba – 25 km
      • Day 28; La Faba – Triacastela – 26 km
      • Day 29; Triacastella – Sarria – 25 km
      • Day 30; Sarria – Portomarín – 22.4 km
      • Day 31; Portomarín – Palas de Rei – 24.8 km
      • Day 32; Palas de Rei – Ribadiso – 25.8 km
      • Day 33; Ribadiso – Lavacolla – 32 km
      • Day 34: Lavacolla – Santiago and Goodbye
      • The Camino and Me
  • Themes
    • Stepping into the Ring
    • Clear Intention
    • Enjoying the mystery
    • Fear and Courage
    • Risk and Vulnerability
    • Meeting and Letting go
    • Giving In
  • Tag: Closed

    • Day 20; Calzadilla de los Hermanillos – Mansilla de las Mulas

      Posted at 7:27 pm by Mary Murphy, on March 30, 2020

      As I stood in the hallway putting the final touches to my departure preparations, the hospitalero came over and thanked me for staying while he hugged me goodbye. This was an unusual occurrence. Then he pointed me towards the much anticipated seventeen-kilometre section ahead without café or shelter of any kind. Thankfully my visit to the local shop the previous evening had provided me with the necessary sustenance for such an adventure.

      Although it was dark at first, in the distance I could see Sergio, a lovely Italian man who had left a few minutes before me. He had very little English, but still we had bonded. We had both received the individual blessing in Carrión de los Condes, and later when we spoke about it, the memory brought tears to our eyes. Sergio was a very purposeful walker so I didn’t catch up with him, nor did I try to; I was happy to walk alone.

      Although the red soil felt soft underfoot, it didn’t support any trees for shade and respite from the hot day. Yet I enjoyed walking and felt an extraordinary peace throughout. In some ways the landscape became my playground and I found myself talking to what was around me. The small creatures and the low-level prickly bushes became my companions. Looking ahead and around, everything appeared exactly the same; without anything to distract my eye, there was infinite nothingness, and in that there was everything. It was the most perfect spiritual container, spiritual in the sense that it was so pure: just me and the Camino. It felt like an encounter with God: on the one hand vast and infinite, and on the other so very intimate.

      After walking alone for five hours, I stopped at the first opportunity – a bar situated at what was more or less a crossroads. Eugene and Heather were already there when I arrived, as they had powered past me earlier. I felt relaxed in myself and had an easier conversation with Eugene than on any previous occasion. ‘This is the happiest I’ve seen you. You’re shining,’ he said. Almost immediately a discomfort arose in me. Even though he had said something nice, I felt uneasy. After lunch we left together, but I was unable to regain my earlier ease and I wondered what had happened.

      At the albergue in Mansilla, the party was in full swing and I felt happy to be there. In the dorms we were packed in like sardines, while outside in the courtyard everyone seemed to be on holiday and I felt my spirit rise. With my return to joy, I began to see the road I had travelled since my Camino began. In particular, I reflected on what Eugene had said to me a week earlier about taking it all too seriously. As I looked back, I saw that my lightness had gone and with it, my light had been all but extinguished. By way of contrast, I thought of Diane, the singing nun from Peru, and how much joy she carried in her soul. What struck me most clearly was the realisation that despite all the people I had met, no one knew me. For the first time I saw how closed I had been to others. So often I had wanted people to move away quickly or I would move myself. I didn’t want anyone to really see me, preferring to be among strangers than people I knew. In hindsight, I could piece together my story and accept without judgement that I wasn’t able to be any other way.

      Many times over the previous three weeks, I had thought about a man and a relationship that had ended, but it wasn’t until that day in Mansilla de las Mulas that I acknowledged I was still mending a broken heart. No one knew that; in some ways not even I knew that. I didn’t want my Camino to be about him or about my broken heart; I wanted to be past that and on to another chapter. What I didn’t realise was that I had to go deeper into the pain before I could be free of it; only then could I let go of the hurt, anger and resentment that I was projecting onto the world. Wanting is one thing, being ready is quite another.

      Posted in Day by Day | 2 Comments | Tagged Blessing, broken heart, Carrion de los Condes, Closed, God, infinite, infinite nothingness, intimate, joy, light, lightness, Mansilla de las Mulas, peace, projection, pure, see me, shining, Soul, spirit, spiritual container, the way Calzadilla de los Hermanillos
    • Day 5; Obanos – Estella

      Posted at 6:08 pm by Mary Murphy, on December 8, 2019

      After breakfast in Puente de la Reina, Manoel, Sue and I separated, and until mid morning, which on the Camino is about 9.30, I walked alone. Then I met David, an Irish musician in his mid thirties, who lived in Paris with his girlfriend. We hit it off straight away, and I realised as the hours passed that I didn’t want to share him with anyone else. It seemed we could talk about anything, and our conversation flowed freely. We talked about life, struggles, heartbreak, personal histories, influences; we covered a lot in one day! I usually think of myself as an open person, but on the Camino that was not how I was at all. However with David I was completely open. I let him see me and I saw him.

      After five hours of walking together and only one brief coffee stop we reached Estella. Immediately, I faced a choice between a further uphill climb into town to find a private albergue, or settle for the big municipal hostel that stood in front of me. Despite my preference for small homely places, my tiredness dictated my decision. Initially we waited in the street with a few other pilgrims for the scheduled 1 p.m. opening time, not realising it was in fact already open. While we waited I noticed that the ease I had felt while I had walked with David had gone. I now felt awkward about our arrival together, as that often meant sharing a bunk, or at least ending up in close physical proximity. I also didn’t want anyone to assume we were a couple. Quite why that had any importance I don’t know, but at the time it did.

      Once inside the albergue, David placed his rucksack on the ground before he set about a comprehensive rummage through his belongings. I was puzzled about what needed to be so urgently rescued when we only required the usual items: a Camino passport and €5 in cash. Why anyone would bury them in their belongings I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know whether to wait for him to find whatever he was looking for or not. In the end I decided to register without him, and when I received my bed number I went upstairs, leaving him to continue his search in the foyer.

      Shortly after arriving in the dorm, Dublin John appeared next to me. He had been allocated the bunk above mine, and as we prepared our nests for the night, we did our best to navigate around each other without touching. There was still no sign of David. I thought perhaps the rummaging in his bag had been a delaying tactic, and I wondered if I had lost him. Despite the connection I had experienced with him, or perhaps because of it, I was relieved not to be sharing close physical quarters with him – it was easier for me to share such confinement with strangers – but I didn’t want to lose him either.

      We hadn’t eaten along the way, and even though I was really hungry, I delayed lunch further in favour of chores. That was a mistake! By the time I had finished washing, the supermarkets were closed for siesta, so any ideas I had about making lunch in the homely albergue kitchen were quashed. Instead, I found a soulless, empty bar along the street serving food, and while I could have explored the town afterwards, I had neither the interest nor the energy for more activity. It might have been a pretty town, but I was unlikely to see it, except on the way out in the semi-darkness of the morning.

      Late in the afternoon, I observed a few people, including David and Dublin John, chatting in the garden, and although I wanted to join them, I hesitated. I questioned whether or not I should. Maybe David wants some space, I thought, and as I second-guessed what David wanted, I held back and denied my own needs. In the evening, Dublin John was rounding up people for dinner, but I wouldn’t join them – by then I had lost any ability for conversation.

      With hindsight I have a clearer understanding of the events that triggered my reactions that day. In David I had found a kindred spirit, someone who spoke my language. He was the first person I was willing to confide in, and while we walked I felt held in a protective bubble, without interference from the external world. But when we were reunited with the world, it was a transition I found difficult to make; I felt challenged by the reintegration process. During the day when I observed David in conversation with others, I told myself not to be a burden to him, yet at the same time I felt burdened by what seemed to be required of me – assimilation into a wider group and the ordinary conversations of Camino life.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, Camino, Camino Passport, Closed, Connection, Extella, heartbreak, kindred spirits, Obanos, Openness, pilgrim, Puente de la Reina
    • Mary Murphy

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