Sunrises to Santiago: Searching for Purpose on the Camino de Santiago (19 page)

into
your greatest and truest form.

Hector,
Hospitalero

Trail
Day 27

Trail
Day 21

After
another night of half sleeping to the tune of a room full of restless
pilgrims, we get back on the trail. It feels good to be walking again
and the few days of rest have really helped my body. Amy and I both
are already loving this decision and now being able to walk less per
day gives us more time to enjoy. If our walk were a movie, this would
be where the corny inspirational music would pick up after the last
few days of adversity. The walk today takes us through lush green
valleys filled with roaring rivers. Mountains crammed with huge green
trees surround us in every direction, almost encouraging our slow
progress. I can already tell Galicia is going to be beautiful.

“
Only
nine days left,
”
I
say to Amy.
I
try to think of an appropriate mantra for the first day of the
spiritual leg of the Camino de Santiago. I was hoping to be struck
with, well, the meaning of life on this journey. So far it has not
come to me. I ask Amy casually,
“
S
o
let
’
s
figure
this out, the meaning of life.
”

I
must have been high on ibuprofen or something, but as we talk I think
we might actually be on to something!

“
Love,
”
Amy
says simply.
“
I
think love is number one.
”

I
push her a little asking,
“
How
is that a meaning of life?
”

“
Think
about all of the answers to all of life
’
s
problems,
”
she
explains as our walking sticks steadily clunk against the paved
trail.
“
Think
of the kindness of the man who rubbed your legs with olive oil in
Gra
ñ
on.
And The Barista who gave you things from his pack to help you
continue in Pamplona. Love and kindness. That is the path to
happiness, and that is one of my meanings of life. If you truly want
your life to matter, then maybe it is not on the huge grand scale you
are striving for. Maybe you should spread kindness and love to
individuals you meet. You will make small ripples in the grand scheme
of things and your life will have mattered, even if only to a few.
”

The
weight of Amy
’
s
words hits me in the face like a giant gust of wind. I pause, letting
her words sink in.
“
Are
you some sort of guru or something?
”
I
say only half joking.
“
That
actually makes a lot of sense.
”

We
continue on, passing through a small village. I notice the buildings
are built from dark gray stones in this part of Spain. A stark
difference from the light tan rocks we have seen throughout this
country so far, the result of a changing landscape and soil.

“
I
wish we didn’t have to make money,” I say. “Love doesn’t pay
the bills, does it?”

“
Yeah,
but that doesn’t matter. Money has never motivated you or me,”
she replies.

“
Maybe
it should at least a little bit,” I reply. “If we had more money,
maybe we wouldn’t have to work as much.”

“
You
hate trust fund babies, and the rest of the rich work more than you
would want to,” she argues.

“
I
think I hate trust fund kids because I secretly want to be one,” I
reply.

“
Do
you really want to be
that guy
that works all the time, takes
business trips, never sees his family or friends, lives for work,
just so you can buy a nicer car, bigger house, pay for the sports
package cable channels and buy ridiculous things to fill your
ridiculous house?” She asks while pausing to look at me. “Money
will not buy you purpose that is for sure.”

“
I
know. I know,” I reply. “I can’t have it both ways. I just
think money could buy freedom. I should start an app! It will be
downloaded millions of times, and then I won’t have to work
anymore!”

Amy
rolls her eyes and laughs. I have no coding experience at all, but as
usual I am full of ideas.

“
OK,
”
I
continue,
“Money
is not the meaning of life.
What
else ya got for me, guru?
”

Amy
drops another knowledge bomb on me, as if reading directly from some
unseen self-help book.
“
Don
’
t
try to be better than others. Only try to be better than the person
you were yesterday.
”
I
stop walking again and stare at her.
“Wow
.
Who are you,
”
I
blurt out as I try to expand on this thought.

“
I
read that on Pinterest!
”
she
laughs.

“
I
think I follow you, though,
”
I
reply with a smile.
“
So,
let
’
s
see. We are out here walking to Santiago, but I have been feeling a
sense of failure simply because we assume others are doing it better
than us. Faster than us. Or more correctly than us.
”
I
pause in the shade of a giant beech tree. The base of the trunk is
gnarled and as wide as a small car.
“
But
what you
’
re
saying is, it is not about them or comparing ourselves to their
journey. The meaning of life is simply improving yourself?
”

“
You
got it,
”
she
replies.

“
OK,
so far we have love and don
’
t
try to be better than others. One and two. Any more meanings of
life?
”

We
decide to take a break, sitting on a bench on the side of the road.
The trail has followed a paved road thus far, and as we stop, our
line of thought is interrupted by something that sounds like a large
crowd. As we listen, a bit confused, a giant group of high school
kids rounds the corner. They keep coming and stream past us like a
line of human ants. There must be at least 100 kids walking by, our
solitude interrupted by the buzz of chatty youth.

We
let them pass and give them time to get far enough ahead, so we can
’
t
hear them. Finally, we strap on our packs and continue on.
“
So,
where were we?
”
I
ask. “Any more meanings of life?”

“
I
have a couple more that I have been thinking about. How about,
cultivate peace?
”
she
says. I mull over the thought in my head.
“
That
one you are going to have to explain.
”

“
No
matter the circumstances of your life, find peace in yourself,
”
she
says. She sees me struggling to make sense of this and continues,
“
You
know! Make your own weather. You were injured. We had to stop. You
can choose your reaction to the circumstances.
You
can be angry, throw a pity party and stew in your miserable story.
Or, you can
choose
to learn from it, grow and cultivate inner peace.
”
I
understand perfectly now, nodding my head in agreement.

I
guess this is why so many cultures have a pilgrimage of some kind.
You suffer a little bit physically and give yourself the time to
learn the lessons you need to learn, breaking out of the routine of
your life.
“
Why
were you holding out on me?
”
I
jokingly tell Amy.
“
You
had the answers to the meaning of life all along!
”

I
am excited about these lessons and promise myself to focus on them
when I get home. A task that I know will be hard to do. We arrive in
Vega de Valcarce after a much easier day of walking than normal. I
can
’
t
feel my heartbeat in my feet, and my typically swollen limbs are not
swollen. My Achilles
’
tendon did not snap either, so I count today as a big success
.

We
check into a
small
albergue
with only eight bunks in one room. We meet our amazing hospitalero
named Matt
.
A
true Brit, he offers us a cup of tea while we check in and get our
passports stamped. He walked the Camino de Santiago a few years ago
and then decided to quit his desk job in London, move to Spain, and
open a pilgrims
’
hostel. He invites us to hang out
after
we have dinner in the common room upstairs, and we accept, promising
to return in an hour or so.

At
the restaurant next door, we dine on fresh garlic stuffed trout and a
giant bowl of lentil stew. After the meal, we head back upstairs to
find that a few more pilgrims have checked in including Melinda, a
woman from Boulder, Colorado, in her late 50
s.
She is one of the people here who does not have a set schedule
and
doesn
’
t
know
when she will finish. She is taking it slow and enthusiastically
explains her journey so far.

“
I
carried 7 pounds of oatmeal with me from the states,
”
she
laughs.
“
You
know you packed too much in your Camino pack when you have to pay for
overweight luggage charges at the airport!
”

“
How was your meal?” Matt
asks Amy and me.

“
The trout was really good!”
I reply. “He told us it was fresh. He stuffed the fish with garlic,
which is never a bad idea. Do you ever eat there?”