WHILE IN BURGOS - Comfort of Strangers

(09/16/15)

I have learned that the reason I am having trouble carrying my backpack is that it simply doesn´t fit my body. I tried on one of the other pilgrim´s pack and discovered that men and women´s packs are actually shaped differently and the one I am using creates too much weight for me because of the way it fits me. 

I spent yesterday walking all over Burgos from store to store in the attempt to find a different back pack and then send this one home. I was crossing a street in an area that I did not know yet and was searching for yet another store. An older womam - probably my age, caught my eye as I came across the street. If we could have communicated I would have made friendly conversation - but I know that is impossible so I kept moving on with my backpack on my back. I stopped a young woman storekeeper who was sweeping the street walk in front of her store to ask for directions. She began to speak quickly and I was having trouble getting the gist of the directions. By this time the older woman caught up and the two of them had a bit of a conversation. I was feeling a bit overlooked and then humbled when I realized that I was the subject of their conversation. The older woman reached for my hand, the younger woman said to me, ¨She will take you.¨ I wept. She frequently reached for my hand or arm and guided me like a child across streets and down unknown paths until she stood me directly in front of the door and nudged me inside. My heart was overflowing with gratitude. It didn´t even matter that there was nothing at this store either. What matter was the love that was literally taking me by the hand and guiding me through a maze of unknowns. 

Something else that has truly been running through my mind. I have become aware of how comfortable I can become with a situation as I come to know and trust it. It doesn´t even matter if I am in a poor place, a difficult surrounding. Because I know it and it is familiar I find that I am less wanting to separate myself from it. This has given me a new sensitivity to those who find comfort in what they have come to know as their faith and then find it so frightening to think of anything in a way that is not comfortable even if it is freeing and redeeming. I met a pilgrim yesterday and we spent a lot of time together and I realized that we were supposed to meet. I helped her with some spiritual concepts that she hadn´t considered before. What I noticed was that she was hungry, maybe even starved for what we talked about. She would be making some serious shifts and tears filled her eyes on several occasions. Tears are good. They clense and while blurring our vision, open the paths of new understanding - new ways of seeing. 

I think my time on this computer at the Library is up. So long for now. Continue to pray for all of us in the Wind of the Spirit as we continue the journey wherever it leads. 

Pilgrim Carol

BLOWING INTO BURGOS

(09/16/15)

I am working on a Spanish computer and can´t even find the @ sign. I continue to stay today in Burgos. The winds are at a dangerous speed with huge gusts. Pilgrims are flooding into the City to get out of the high wind and gusty rain. I have come to the Biblioteche to use the computer and to see what the Library here looks like. Only difference that I can determine is that I can´t read anything here in the Library - even the computer keyboard is different. What remains quite consistent is the patience and the care from the people. 

On my way here I heard the Church Bells of San Lesmes the Patron of Burgos and I stopped in for noon Mass. I should say I was BLOWN in. The wind is so strong that I think it is Pêntecost again! Or, maybe STILL. When it was time to receive Holy Communion the huge ancient pillars seems to quietly breathe soft mysterious chimes and it evolved into soft electronic harpsichord music. It was delightful and peaceful - lifting of spirits. 

So far along with the walking, getting lost, wandering in wilderness, love of companions, patience of natives, impossibilities of language barriers, ancient presence of ancestral spirits, meeting people from all over the world, walking as best friends with those I have just met, caring for those much younger and in much worse physical shape than myself, having to send my dearest friend home, realizing that I need to claim my Camino and do it a new way starting now. All of this has been my Camino till now. With the realization that I need to slow down my pace and do what I can in a good way. It is interesting that with every step that I match with others I still continue to fall behind. Next life - longer legs. Now instead of feeling pressured to keep up I will slow and allow myself some breathing room. I feel that I have stayed too long here in Burgos. I want to move on and hopefully the winds will let up tomorrow and I can move on. I have set a goal now of 10-15km a day and if I feel like doing more I will. 

The biggest problem has been that one must get to the next destination around noon if you want a bed for the night. So if I go less km I will get somewhere in time for a bed. I wonder about this conundrum. If I have no bed what would happen? I have seen pilgrims turned away. I have seen pilgrims given a space on the floor with no mattress. I don´t know. This is such a unique experience for me. When money and reputation, can not buy a space. I have come to a deeper understanding of the Christmas story. What it is truly like to have NO PLACE, NO SPACE to go. I would be happy with a stable and that could very well be a place for me one night on the Camino. So where will the winds blow me? When I am walking I think of so many things that I want to remember to write down. And when I finally find a place to sit I think of very little of the day´s ponderings. Today it is about the power of the Wind. One of my Native teachers is Grandfather BearHeart who wrote his life story: The Wind Is My Mother. He communicated with the Wind and she protected him and us during a time when I was with him on Vision Quest and a Tornado force wind came right through our camp. When Grandfather drummed and sang to the WIND she lifted off the ground and there where newspaper reports of the devastation of homes in the path before our camp and then after our camp. We received a huge deluge of rain, but no one was injured by the high winds. Often I think of the Wind of the Holy Spirit. I was first ordained on Pentecost which is deeply meaningful for me - the day that the tongues of fire and the wind came to the Apostles. After my Mother died and I was in very deep grief I begged the Universe for healing from the overwhelming grief and I was given a message that my mother would come to me in the Wind. And she did. So now I know that the Wind is also my Mother. And the Fire of Pentecost is another story for another time.