This is the complementary route that starts 2km prior to Portomarín Spain on the Camino de Santiago Frances. The background is a recording of myself singing and playing the Ukelele. Enjoy!
Tag Archives: Peace
Finding New Life
I’m struggling on this journey with habits and patterns that I have created at home to manage myself and my PTSD.
If I were home right now I would be sleeping, because it’s still morning. I might go out to work at Starbucks today. I may spend time painting or drawing. I would likely sit outside at the picnic table, enjoying the last days of summer with Janelle before she goes back to work. I’d have made a coffee, and then another, and likely a third. I wouldn’t have eaten anything yet. I’d likely spend a lot of time indoors, binging Netflix or reading a novel. Possibly, I would do some household chores and rearrange the living room for the millionth time. Tomorrow I would do the same, just as this is what I did yesterday. Life became stale. I was complacent in my maximum isolation. So full of thoughts, and hopes, and desires, but not moving towards anything, just talking it in circles and writing down ideas.
This morning I had one cafe con leche and a ham and cheese sandwich. I packed my bag and I hit the road. I greeted others in kindness and compassion for our mutual journey and struggles up hills. I drank lots of water. I stopped and meditated in my surroundings, not concerned with those going past at faster speeds than I. I drank more water and ate a small muffin. I heard music and I stopped to sing along as the Guitarist played Stand By Me (Ben E. King). I encouraged myself to keep moving on the hills, but to stop, look around, and look up. I discovered that what I thought were dates were actually almonds. Who knew they grew on trees in green pods? I didn’t, nor did the three French women who showed it to me, explaining in French. I don’t speak French, but we understood each other all the same.
I found an old cistern on the top of a hill and I stopped to meditate again. Maybe someone took my picture, or they were just catching the view. Someone walked by and told me “Namaste”. I continued to meditate and breathe. When I opened my eyes everything was brighter, my sight was clearer. Even the ants on my bag didn’t ruin my day. I wondered why it is that I avoid meditating regularly. Is lack of peace such a comfortable place?
I arrived at my destination and felt as if I had not come far enough today, but I’m learning I must make myself pause, even when my body insists it can go further. I fed, cleaned, and embraced my body for its strength and resilience. I interact with others through smile and greeting, feeling akin. This is a life one cannot find binging netflix in the living room. I do believe this is a life we can find by stepping out our front door. There is no need to travel, though I highly encourage it. Seeing and experiencing other cultures gives us perspectives to grow and love better. I hope and believe that everyone can take their own journey and not only finds new ways to embrace life, but like I have on this trail, find that life is embracing you back.
Here I Sit – Ahetze, France
Here I sit, in the quaint French village of Ahetze.
After two days of airport travel I landed in Biarritz, France. For a moment it felt free to be done with planes. My assumption was to grab a taxi or Uber to the hotel I had booked online. This proved to be more difficult, for several reasons. First, I had completely lost what little French I pretended to learn prior to the trip, not even hello was coming to mind. This kicked my anxiety up. Second, I couldn’t get my phone to connect to the WIFI, possibly because the form was in French and I wasn’t answering it correctly. Suddenly, all the normalcy of airport life disappeared. I was momentarily frozen in a foreign country. I battled the urge to turn my cell service on and took several deep breathes. I wandered around, not finding a taxi stand and too ashamed of my lack of French to ask for help. I tried the WIFI again. Somehow, i muddled through the French form and got it to connect. I opened Uber and encountered my third problem… no Uber drivers. How!?!?!? I checked Google map which insisted there should be Uber cars, it also offered a bus route. The bus station was 20 minutes walk. Without ongoing data I figured I would only become more frustrated trying to find it. I checked Uber again… SUCCESS!
Marc, my Uber driver, spoke enough English to tell me I was going to a small country village. This was not what I had expected. My mind raved as I tried to remember to breathe. This is okay. I’ll be okay. I’m resilient. Then Marc tells me the only way back from the village is by rental car or motorbike. My internal panic continues as my external self attempts neutrality. A moment of brevity arrives when we approached a round about, where Marc begins yelling in French and honing his horn because no one is letting us merge into the round-about. Finally, he cuts someone off, at which point north drivers go halfway put the window to yell at each other in French. It didn’t sound like kind words. Thankfully, Marc came back into the vehicle when it was time to start moving. He promised the rest of the trip would be much more pleasant.
Marc spoke enough English to drop some knowledge on me. The G7 Summit would be in Biarritz in late August. There are normally more Ubers but it’s been a bad summer for biarritz, so less business means less Uber. Also, somehow the G7 Summit is affecting the Uber business in the area. Spain has the most taxi’s of all the Western European countries, but France comes in second. He also shared many other things which I did not quite understand, but I nodded along pleasantly. It never fails that people think I’m from Kansas, and Marc did not let me down. He asked where I’m from, then said he has heard of Kansas City, it’s in Kansas, then asks me what the capital of the state is. I get that question a lot, or so it seems, I usually guess Topeka, but I’m still not sure. I tried to explain how I’m from Missouri, not Kansas and how KC is in both states, but it fell flat. I gave up with an internal chuckle.
At Hôtel Harretchea in Ahetze, Fr the woman who checked me in didn’t speak English. We got through it and she should me my beautiful first floor room. The door to the back patio sat ajar, flanked by beautiful rustic red shutters. I was very glad it was such a comfortable room for my first night in Europe. I got straight in the shower and sink washed my clothes for the first time. I managed to flood the bathroom because there was no edge to the shower to hold in water. It was odd, but survivable. They had a towel warmer that I used to dry my clothes. Maybe that’s its purpose, we saw them in Scotland last year too. It could also simply be a heater that becomes multi-purpose. 
By this time, I was exhausted and without a common language. My resiliency and stubbornness were fading fast. I needed food. I opted to wander and try to find dinner. The main restaurant in town didn’t open till 2000, and it was only 1800. I eventually found a grocery store and opted to simply buy some food to hold me over. I was beginning to feel stabbed and ill, the jet lag (8hrs ahead of Colorado) was starting to catch up to me. After eating I fell asleep watching some Netflix, a very home thing to do. I woke up at 2300, feeling rested, and glad I’d bought those groceries. I found out I could make phone calls over the WIFI also, so made a call home. I needed that call to make me feel better, less alone, less miserable. The call didn’t last long as my energy started to wane pretty quick. As I laid back down to sleep it occurred to me that the trail hadn’t even started yet and I was already questioning my reasons to be here. I missed the familiar and a common language.
In the end I slept well, with the patio door open, letting in the fresh air. In the morning I had a proper European breakfast (Petit dejuenes) made primarily of a dozen types of pastry, but don’t worry, I only ate 5! This was what I expected when I joked about not losing weight. I’m sure I’ll burn the calories and more on the trail. My saving grace was, of course, the coffee, though no milk, but still my elixir of life.
I went to check out and was reminded I needed to pay. This morning the woman at the desk spoke English, thankfully, otherwise I may not have realized I didn’t pay when I booked. I told her that nowhere in America would they let you stay without paying upfront. She just smiled at me. It is interesting the level of trust given here. I also felt no hesitation in leaving my patio door open all night. It was a very small, rural village. I’m sure my mom will have something to say about that. I figure verbal language is only 7% of communication, and my spidey senses are pretty sharp. I trust my intuition, but I digress.
The woman said I could stay till my bus, but I told her I wanted to explore town. She laughed saying there isn’t much to explore. I agreed but still chose to go. I took some photos and found my way back to this spot to write. It’s a stone picnic table in a community parking lot. There is traffic going by, but otherwise not a whole lot of activity, except for those visiting the grocery store. The sun has finally come out and shortly I’ll return to Biarritz and catch a train to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.
I’m at peace and looking forward to staying the trail tomorrow. It was a good idea to take a few nights before starting the rail. I’m working on getting my shyness in an unfamiliar culture out of the way. I’ll start using my Spanish more moving forward. It seems they speak Spanish here as well, being just a few miles from Spain.
The Path I’ve Walked
I had a lot of built up anxiety prior to getting on the plane Wednesday morning. This trip was 6 months coming and then it appeared all too quickly. It’s interesting to reflect on the path I’ve walked which led to me walking a literal path in Spain. The mindset I was in when I bought the tickets and how my world changed since, well, it feels like two different worlds.
February 13, 2019 0500 CST
I bought the tickets in a haze of sleeplessness. I was unsettled. The nightmares were creeping in on my periphery. They were alive in my mind without me even closing my eyes. I couldn’t, no wouldn’t, allow myself to sleep. The fear if entering my never ending nightmares spurred me on to practice one tool after another, but nothing calmed them, or me.
I, finally, took my mind back to the Camino de Santiago I did in October 2018. I recalled the smell of the eucalyptus trees, still wet with dew. The quiet of the rail, the only sound was the crunchy of my shoes on the path. Singing in the rain, getting caught, and being asked to keep singing. The sense of freedom and no restrictions. The lack of my story holding me back. This was what I most wanted as I looked at ticket prices.
I hoped to find those same senses by returning to the trail. Last year I used the trail to hold onto through the struggles. On this particular February morning I once again needed something to hold onto, to keep living. I wanted to escape my pain, back to the last place that I felt peace.
After February 13th
It’s not that I don’t have peace in my daily life. I’m just constantly looking for the next danger, the next repeat of my trauma. I’m always on alert. I wish I could better embrace the peace and joy that occurs in my daily life. I also have this wanderlust inside me, and perhaps that makes me restless. I’m great in a crisis or a high adrenaline event, it’s the normal where I begin to fall and fail.
So what changed, what happened since that rough February night, which made it so difficult to actually come on this trip? Just buying the tickets I had felt i found my escape, something to look forward to, hold on to. It wasn’t a foolish choice, it was quite informed of me. I lined my date’s up with when my lease ended. I found a balance in my desire to escape and my life responsibilities. Giving myself this time was important. It offered me the space to process, connect better with others, and make a healthy departure.
For almost as long as I can remember, I have had this unhealthy desire to just up and disappear, to run away from everyone. It often has strong emotional ties to shame, guilt, pain, and other dark emotions. As an adult, I began struggling with thoughts of suicide. Suicide: the ultimate disappearing act. When I think about my struggles it is hardly ever a reflection of others. It is a reflection of how I can’t stand myself, occasionally informed by the opinions of others. The thing is I can’t escape myself anymore than you can escape yourself. So my urge to disappear doesn’t work, I can’t run from myself. That was where the permanence of suicide began to feel attractive.
Luckily, for me, I was born with this little flame in my soul, called HOPE. Sometimes, I am in awe of how strong it is. It keeps me going in the darkest of times. It is what gets me to buy plane tickets so I can walk across Spain. Once the tickets were bought, life started to get a little easier. I had an egress plan. Rule #1 of combat, know your egress points. Okay, maybe not rule #1, but it’s up there for sure. It’s as if I can handle anything as long as there is an escape route.
Funny thing happened though, I made my escape plan and then began to experience a life I didn’t want to escape from. Every day wasn’t perfect, but life felt good. It felt possible. I let myself be more vulnerable. I began to accept the love others kept trying to share with me. I leaned into my art and my dream of building a non-profit. I built deeper relationships with neighbors, coworkers, customers, and friends. Instead of thinking I could go nowhere with my dreams, I just started doing it. It was as if I suddenly had nothing to loose, so why not try. To my surprise, people really supported me! I even met someone special who has made my life even better. It turned out I didn’t need to escape my life. I needed to be embracing it.
So, then I considered not going on this trip at all. I balked at the risk of leaving a good life, finally, a good life. The thing is, I had heard this call to adventure and I accepted it. My current level of comfort at home should not hinder me answering the call and stepping into the unknown. A person won’t grow well unless, from time to time, they face the unknown and seek the new knowledge and wisdom it has in store.
The beauty to this evolution is that I don’t know what I’m walking the Camino for. I am no longer escaping. I’m not appearing, like the last Camino, for myself. They’re is no record breaking, comparing, or competing. I’m simply embracing the unknown by putting one foot in front of the other, and continue to walk.
2am and Sober
Sometimes I like it here, in the deep of the night. The 2am without alcohol. The alone-ness of my apartment. Everything around me is silent, except the fan on my ceiling and the low hum of the refrigerator. If I sit quiet enough it becomes like I don’t exist. Slowly without thought drinking cold water from a glass. I can feel my muscles tense and move in my shoulders as I lift the glass to my lips. The silence is almost deafening.
The small sounds are present like white noise in a mothers womb. It is as if I am encapsulated in a bubble that is safe, serene, and without emotion. My mind clears itself to match the silence outside my body. It begins to drift, not to anything in particular, just to drift. My mind samples this thought and that, but has no attachment to any of them. I consider going to bed, but I can’t, because in this moment I just am. I won’t go to sleep yet, because I want to hold on to this peace for as long as I can.
It is in this moment of peace that I plan for tomorrow. I plan to be tired in the morning, but recall this moment where I just was. I will recall how I felt a part of everything and nothing all at once. I will recall how this moment is different than the 2am’s where I drank till I couldn’t remember what time it was. How this moment is different than other 2am’s sober. This is a different moment, where I am not haunted by the dark. Where I cannot be scared by visions of my past, present, or future. It is a place where I can know that the dark is not always to be feared and full of enemies.
I think of the quote that I keep saying over and over, “Be so full that even if they take and take and take you can still be overflowing.” (Alison Malee)
It comes to me in this moment of silence, at the end of the night, when I should have been in bed hours ago. It makes me think of how just at this 2am moment I am in a place that I can refill my cup. I don’t want to be anything but a giver, and so I must continuously learn to find new ways to stay overflowing. In the moments where my vehicle won’t move in traffic and I see the shadow of the clouds shift on the trees around me. In the moments where I take a break to walk or just stand and stretch during a conversation. It is the 2am moments where I feel that I am a part of the whole big world, but nothing in it at all.
I have seen many 2am’s where it’s all hazy and exhausting and often forgotten or needed to be pieced back together. I don’t know who really enjoys that kind of 2am. I could be found crouching somewhere crying or would have disappeared all together. My feet always hurt and often my face was tight from the make-up and the cigarettes. I would drive home hoping to not get pulled over or hit anyone and it was a miracle when it never happened. I hardly felt safe, never serene, and always filled with too many emotions. It is amazing I survived those roller coaster nights. It is amazing that I was too drunk to suicide, though often the thought crossed my mind. I would pass out before I could do anything else. It is amazing I am giving that up, no matter how hard it is to not drown my sorrows.
A character in a television show was asked why he did drugs and drank. His response “I suppose it was because I did not like myself very much.” That stuck with me. I like myself very much now and I work very hard to love myself as well. There are a million reasons to run from having to like and love myself, but they are merely excuses. So when I sit here at 2am and am Sober, I know that I am breaking down my own barriers to being overflowing in my life. With this serenity and fullness comes happiness, joy, and prosperity in my life. The person that I did not like very much is not really here anymore. I don’t want to forget it, I won’t let myself, and so I write to record the person who I am becoming.
The person you are at 1:59am is not the person you are at 2am. I hope that in the change of a moment you grow and do not whither. That you find hope and not fear. That you find peace and not conflict. So stop at any moment, and pause, look around you, take a deep breathe, listen to what you can and cannot hear. Search in the moment of silence for the sensation of how you are a part of everything and at the same time nothing in this world. Just be.
Original Post on Medium.