End of the Road

At the end of my Camino I decided I wanted to take the time to walk to “the end of he world” as many have traditionally done. I made this decision based on one ritual that has taken place for centuries. Druids, as well as Christians believed this to be the place to make sacrifices as well as offerings to whatever they believed in. Sunset is said to be a magical time.
About a month ago, In Pamplona I overheard talk of a prayer journal. It was at this time I thought of doing the same thing, but mine turned out a bit different. After a long and tiring first day, I realized I had a lot of angry and bitter thoughts about my past. I realize this may come off as needing professional help, but often the things that keep me up at night are things that have upset me for years. Even as early as elementary school. I am no longer ashamed to admit that things that upset me even for the briefest of moments have stayed with me.
Every day of this journey I took time to write these things that I thought about while walking. I even took the time to write questions to God about those things as well as others. Why did this happen to me? Why didn’t I have this in my life? Why did so many leave me before it was their time? Why, why, why. Could I have been? Should I have been? Where to go from here? I easily spent 10 to 20 minutes per day writing about this.
I figured out about a week or so back what I needed to do. As I walked away from Cruz de Ferro more bitter than ever, I felt a strong urge to dwell on things. Then after having the realization that I would never get answers, I realized it is better to lose my questions. But can you really do this? I think so. As I prayed and prayed, my journal kept popping up in my mind. One night I even dreamt of being a child and writing in it.
In a more recent tradition pilgrims often burn their clothes, boots, or socks at the shore at Faro. (end of the world) I imagine, especially from looks and conversations, that I am among the few to bring a journal.
As I placed it near a stone cross that had many offerings around it, I could no longer fight the tears. Some because of what I have accomplished and others because of the fact all my pain and anger was poured into those pages. As I watched the pages slowly burn I thought more of my children, as thoughts of being a part time father were a prevalent theme through out my journal. It has always been easy to say that they belong to God and not me. I have to have faith and trust. The years of crying myself to sleep say that I don’t really believe that. I also thought of many other things. But something is different now. I truly believe that something terrible has died inside of me. Something beautiful
and extraordinary has been born. With the ocean breeze and the sound of water crashing on rocks around me, I couldn’t help but smile. I began to walk away. Perhaps my body had just had the realization that i didn’t have my backpack on this walk, but I realized my body felt truly great. My camino friend then broke our long silence. “It’s good. Like 1000 kilos off your back.” I nodded In agreement. “Maybe even 10,000.”

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One thought on “End of the Road

  1. TJHolcomb

    Making it to the end of the world was an added bonus for me. I did not set out on my journey with the expectation of finding release or answers like so many others whom I met, so when I reached Finisterre (by bus) I was truly surprised to find the release that I did. It truly was the end of my Camino, even go more so than Santiago. I am glad you found your rebirth there, too. Our God is a God of resurrection!

    Reply

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