I arrived in Santiago yesterday. After not really knowing what to do with myself as I stood in front of the cathedral, exhausted, I ended up getting my certificate of pilgrimage completion at the Pilgrims Office. Then I went to the five-star hotel called Parador de Los Reyes Catolicos, deciding to ignore my feeling of awkwardness, and moments later I was soaking my aching body in a hot, lovely bath. The journey is not complete until I reach Finisterre however, as I promised I would go to the ends of the earth.
I’m halfway through writing 34 postcards to friends, family, and the people who have been following and supporting me on Facebook. Each postcard receiver is also getting a yellow arrow magnet or pin badge, with my wish that it help point them in the right direction. Traces of this journey are going out to all corners of the world: Australia, USA, Canada, Switzerland, Belgium, Turkey, Denmark, England, Andorra, Sweden, the Netherlands, and possibly a few more.
Finisterre
I reached the town of Finisterre, walked to the lighthouse on a hunch, and enjoyed the strange familiarity of the landscape: pine trees, frothing ocean, savage cliffs, and an unusual magical light that made all the colours seem slightly otherworldly. I thought to myself: I could live here!
I reached the 0.0 km seashell marker stone at the lighthouse, and found the place where pilgrims burnt their boots on the cliffs beyond. I felt lighter and lighter as I reached “the end of the world.” I felt an almost alchemical process of the elements coming into balance on that last journey out there: solid earth under my worn feet, crashing ocean next to me, salty wind on my face, and fire burning brightly in my heart.
I wrote our names on the aerial mast base out there: my one graffiti on this 300km journey. I felt enormously expanded, and also humble and human.
Airport
I’m writing this at Santiago airport on March 9th 2012, feeling my world rapidly shrinking after all these extraordinary experiences. I try to see it as a piece of delicate multicoloured paper being folded inward in an intricate pattern, smaller and smaller, as I contract back to my core. It feels like a chapter is over, a brightly coloured kite that I have let fly, and there is sadness in my heart.
My gratitudes are many. Here are a few:
Having experienced my heart as open.
Going on journeys I never expected.
Connecting sincerely and vulnerably with so many.
Not knowing what happens next.
