Walking the Camino Frances requires an endless number of choices that must be made every day.
They start with:
Continue readingTaking responsibility for the choices you make
Tag Archives: magic
Well, Bob, almost half-way, what have we learned from the Camino?
Today was only a 20-kilometer walk from Hornillos to Castrojeriz, but I still left long before sunrise.
There is something primal about walking alone in darkness, assisted only by a headlamp or the full moon.
Continue readingA layover day in Burgos leaves me exhausted
You’d think a day off would mean rest and relaxation. But no.
I spent nearly the entire morning walking about in the massive cathedral. It is not so much a place of worship as a … well … I don’t know what.
Continue readingWalking into the moon
My bunk-room mates settled the issue for me this morning in Belorado: Should I get up early for the 18 mile walk to Ages or start late and cope with the afternoon sun?
The rustling and zipping of bags, dropping of electronics in the dark, scurrying to the bathroom, the burst of red light from headlamps — it all began before 5 a.m.
That’s ok. I wasn’t sleeping much anyway.
Continue readingSomething is happening here …
Today was a long one — 18 miles from Los Arcos to Logroño— but it felt like it took no time at all.
It was different from the start.
Continue readingGive us this day our daily mariachis
Not every procession in Parque Juarez has to do with a wedding. Tonight an exuberant crowd of teens, parents, and friends followed a donkey, two mojigangas, and the Amistad band through the park and eventually back to the gazebo.
A lot of the processioners were carrying paper mariposas on sticks. At least, I don’t think it was a wedding.
I can’t begin to explain the purpose of the procession but it seemed quite life-affirming and the enthusiasm of the group was contagious.
Certainly, the Amistad band’s infectious rhythms and glittery-pink jackets helped spread the joy.
Here’s a sample of the music.
Enjoy.
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In the Garden
And I turned to you and I said No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature And the father in the garden
–VAN MORRISON, “IN THE GARDEN”
So I sit here in the garden, in the early summer light
A cup of coffee grows cold beside me
In the stillness that morning brings, fleeting stillness
The workers next door have not yet stirred to break the silence
With their hammers and saws and boisterous shouts.
There is still room for the birds in the dense green
To sing their songs, perform their magic,
Find love among the branches.
I don’t know the geography of this garden by name,
Only by the heart, defined by what my eyes take in:
The delicate flowers, the flirty birds, the twisty vines,
The shaded coolness of the branches. So many voices
of green, vying for my attention. I know
Only that it is too beautiful for me to rise and exert my will
Where it is unwanted, unasked for, upon another day.
An empty bag awaits upstairs with a ticket to somewhere far
And I only know I don’t want to leave the garden.
I want to sit here in the peace, in the coolness,
Listening to the plants breathing ever so lightly
Parsing out their secrets ever so lightly
Unlocking a state of grace ever so lightly,
Grace I can not achieve no matter how hard I try.
Outside, mothers and fathers walk their children
Hand in hand to school as church bells chime,
A touch of grace all its own.
I see their shadows pass on frosted windows,
And I sit and listen to the plants.
And listen to the birds.
And listen to the silence.
And my coffee grows cold for I dare not move
I can not move,
I don’t want to move.
I want only to become one
With the stillness.
In the garden.
While there is still time.
What Hermann Hesse taught me
To the man whom I almost knocked over rounding the corner of Nemesio Diez and De Los Suspiros, thank you for reviving my interest in a novel that I put down many decades ago but never forgot its influence.
Early Tuesday evening, Moppit and I were walking on Nemesio Diez, past the public parking lot at the corner, heading for home at a brisk pace. Brisk for an old man and a dog with very short legs.
As we reached the corner of Suspiros, a man walking at about the same pace nearly collided with us. Or we nearly collided with him.
Continue readingThese are a few of my favorite things, Part II: Finishing off 2020 with dignity and grace
Confinement. Isolation. Sequestration. Lock down. Quarantine.
Of all the words to describe this peculiar existence we are in today, I have the most trouble with “quarantine.” I simply can not recall this word when describing how we are living these days.
It is blocked from my memory. Unlike the actual quarantine which we live minute by minute in our homes.
Ah well, I’m not here to summarize 2020 — nor analyze. I can offer no grand insights, survival tip, recipes, bromides, earned wisdom, nor life lessons. It happened. It ran over us and didn’t even honk the horn or stomp on the brakes. There were no skid marks. We just took the full brunt of its force.
And here we are. Hello, 2021. Show us what you’ve got.
Continue readingThese are a few of my favorite things, Part I: Salvaging love and beauty from 2020
Well, thank god that’s over. The year, I mean. 2020.
I’ve had just about enough of it and I suspect you have too. Not that 2021 will start off so terribly different. Well, there is the regime change, an inauguration, and the eradication of four years of shitty people running the country.
It will take time, lots of vaccinations, still more wine than we should be consuming, and a Democratic majority in Congress — up to you, Georgia.
Was 2020 really all that bad? Yes. Yes, it was.
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