The Camino and Me Counselling and Psychotherapy

The Camino and Me Counselling and Psychotherapy
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    • Cork – St Jean Pied de Port
      • Day 1; St Jean Pied de Port – Roncesvalles
      • Day 2; Roncesvalles – Zubiri
      • Day 3; Zubiri – Pamplona
      • Day 4; Pamplona to Obanos
      • Day 5; Obanos – Estella
      • Day 6; Estella – Los Arcos
      • Day 7; Los Arcos – Logroño
      • Day 8; Logroño – Ventosa
      • Day 9; Ventosa – Cirueña
      • Day 10; Cirueña – Santo Domingo de la Calzada
      • Day 11; Santo Domingo – Belorado
      • Day 12; Belorado – San Juan de Ortega
      • Day 13; San Juan de Ortega – Burgos
      • Day 14; Burgos – Hontanas
      • Day 15; Hontanas – Castrojeriz
      • Day 16; Castrojeriz – Frómista
      • Day 17; Frómista – Carrión de los Condes
      • Day 18; Carrión de los Condes – Ledigos
      • Day 19; Ledigos – Calzadilla de los Hermanillos
      • Day 20; Calzadilla de los Hermanillos – Mansilla de las Mulas
      • Day 21; Mansilla de las Mulas – León
      • Day 22; Leon – Hospital de Órbigo
      • Day 23; Hospital de Órbigo – Astorga – 15 km
      • Day 24; Astorga – Foncebadón – 27.2 km
      • Day 25; Foncebadón- Ponferrada – 25 km
      • Day 26; Ponferrada – Villafranca del Bierzo – 23.5 km
      • Day 27; Villafranca del Bierzo – La Faba – 25 km
      • Day 28; La Faba – Triacastela – 26 km
      • Day 29; Triacastella – Sarria – 25 km
      • Day 30; Sarria – Portomarín – 22.4 km
      • Day 31; Portomarín – Palas de Rei – 24.8 km
      • Day 32; Palas de Rei – Ribadiso – 25.8 km
      • Day 33; Ribadiso – Lavacolla – 32 km
      • Day 34: Lavacolla – Santiago and Goodbye
      • The Camino and Me
  • Themes
    • Stepping into the Ring
    • Enjoying the mystery
    • Fear and Courage
    • Risk and Vulnerability
    • Meeting and Letting go
    • Giving In
  • Tag: Belorado

    • Day 12; Belorado – San Juan de Ortega

      Posted at 4:30 pm by Mary Murphy, on February 9, 2020

      A peaceful and quiet morning was made even more perfect by the appearance of two captivating vistas within the first couple of hours. The first gem was a field of sunflowers still in bloom. Having seen many dead or dying sunflowers already, I paused to move amongst them and examine them more closely. We were almost of equal height! Then soon afterwards, I was gazing into the distance at the simple beauty of a small hermitage built into a rock. The humble structure touched my soul more powerfully than the grandest of churches, including the Compostela in Santiago, its impact being in its pure simplicity.

      When I arrived at my destination, I saw that San Juan de Ortega was pretty much a one-horse town: an albergue, a church and a bar – that was it. While a couple of the Irish/Canadians headed for the bar to wait for other members of their group, I waited with the seven men from Friesland for the albergue, a former monastery, to open at 1 p.m. Once inside I saw that it wasn’t worth waiting for – the accommodation was really grim. The only positive I found was that males and females had separate showering facilities. At least I could shower in peace, I thought. I wouldn’t need to queue behind or among the seven men from Friesland. With that in mind, I went into the ladies bathroom where I was met by one of the seven men from Friesland stepping out of the shower. He obviously didn’t want to queue either! His unexpected appearance ruined the one and only thing about the albergue that gave me any feeling of comfort. I was annoyed with him, and to make sure he knew that, I pointed to the female symbol on the door. What could he do? Nothing! He just muttered something in Dutch and left. After my shower I sank into a deep sleep and when I awoke, I saw Jeanie and Elaine (the Canadians) in bunks next to me while the others (Heather, Eugene and Bob) had decided to walk on further.

      In the afternoon I sat on a bench across the road from the albergue having my lunch and pretending to write in my journal while I observed Jeanie and Elaine in the bar. Although I could have walked over to join them, I resisted. My internal dialogue was preoccupied with thoughts of all the things I didn’t want to do at that hour of the day. I didn’t want to sit in a bar and drink alcohol at four in the afternoon, neither did I want any other kind of drink. This was a regular dilemma – what to do when there seemed to be nothing to do except sit in a bar. What I really wanted was some kind of relief from the monotony, but I didn’t want to sit in a bar to get it.

      Later, at about six o’clock, I relented, and with a glass of red wine in my hand, I joined Jeanie and Elaine. They had booked a table for dinner and asked if I would like to join them. Initially I declined and later I relented about that too. Over dinner I got to know Elaine a little and discovered that she was not as aloof as I had thought. I knew Jeanie better; I had spent more time with her and knew she was a talker. They were work colleagues who had become friends, and along the way they had met Bob, also Canadian, as well as Heather and Eugene, who were both Irish and had begun the Camino travelling solo.

      We were joined at our table by a lady from Australia who was staying nearby at a Casa Rural. She was doing the Camino in more comfort than us, which for her was important, but she realised it meant that the camaraderie that resulted from albergue living was something she missed out on. I completely understand why people choose to stay in hotels, but having had the albergue experience, I know something huge would have been missing without it.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, Belorado, hermitage, humble, journal, monastery, peace, resistance, San Juan de Ortega, Santiago de Compostela, Simplicity, Soul, sunflowers
    • Day 11; Santo Domingo – Belorado

      Posted at 4:25 pm by Mary Murphy, on February 9, 2020

      As I left Santo Domingo I began walking with Wolfgang, a young German man in his mid to late thirties. Although initially I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to walk with him, I allowed myself to find out. The previous evening we had sat across from one another at the dining table in the albergue. He had tried to include me in conversation with the people he knew at the table. However, I had retreated back into myself and it wasn’t easy to draw me out. It really says a lot about someone who continues to act kindly in the face of little encouragement. So having had that experience with Wolfgang I was positively predisposed towards him. After three or four kilometres together we were joined by Eugene, an Irishman from Cork who lived on the Isle of Man. He was walking the Camino with an Irish woman and a group of Canadians.

      As we approached the first village I could see the bar was busy and some people were sitting outside, amongst them the two Dutch ladies I had paid little attention to, as well as members of Eugene’s walking group. Instead of heading straight for the bar as I hoped, Wolfgang unexpectedly went into the church, and as soon as I saw him disappear, I felt lost. I wasn’t sure what to do. Although I wanted a rest over coffee, suddenly that seemed next to impossible. For some unknown reason I felt unable to walk into the bar with Eugene. To buy some time, I went into the church too. Really I was just hiding while I tried to work out what to do. In the end I decided to walk on.

      At the next village, four kilometres later, I stopped for coffee and within about ten minutes I was joined by Eugene while he waited for one of his group. He began by asking why I hadn’t stopped to join them earlier. In the face of his challenging enquiry, I lied and said I hadn’t felt the need to stop then. I decided it wasn’t a moment for truth. My experience of Eugene had already made me wary. I had the feeling that however unintentional it might be, he could trample on my sensitivities. In contrast, I felt safe with Wolfgang. With him I experienced kindness, gentleness and a respectful distance, while Eugene was a bit more of a bull in a china shop.

      In Belorado there were lots of places to stay, and as a result, the hospitaleros competed for pilgrim custom. One enterprising albergue owner came out to meet us, offering bottles of water while advertising his albergue at the same time. By coincidence it was his albergue that had already caught my attention so in my case his advertising wasn’t necessary. On the way inside, I met Elaine, one of the Canadians, and we both made reservations for the dinner the owners provided on site. Almost immediately I became aware of my attempts to ingratiate myself with Elaine. I was fully aware of what I was doing: I was trying to ensure I was part of the Irish/Canadian party for dinner.

      In the evening while we waited in the foyer before going in to dinner, I overheard someone say that Elaine had booked a table for six people. That worried me a little: I didn’t think it was necessary to book a table; I had assumed it would be a communal meal. Then I hoped I was the sixth person, as there were five members of the Irish/Canadian group. Wrong – it was a New Zealander named Les. I made the discovery while we waited in line on the stairs, and when I entered the dining room they were seated at a table for six. Other tables were set for smaller numbers and I wondered if they had also been reserved. I felt like a spare part. But more than anything I felt hurt by what I saw at the time as Elaine’s meanness. In the awkwardness of the moment, Les rose from his seat quickly, insisting I take it, saying he was the imposter. But the staff sprang into action and placed an extra chair at the end of the table, which I took. By then, whatever confidence I had about being there had evaporated, and in my mind I blamed Elaine for my discomfort. On more mature reflection, I know it would have been so much easier if I had asked to join them, thereby taking the power into my own hands, rather than placing it in someone else’s.

      With Eugene and Les either side of me, we talked about a variety of subjects. Les seemed a gentle, open soul, whereas I found I had little in common with Eugene. His conversation focused mostly on business, which is not something I have much interest in, and I had even less interest in what he had to say when he told me I was taking the Camino too seriously. His judgement felt really hurtful and stayed with me for days, although at the time I tried to conceal my feelings. I felt hurt because I knew I couldn’t have been more sincere in my endeavours, and yet somewhere within me I also knew there was a truth in what he said.

      Although I don’t know what prompted his comment, I imagine it may have been because of something repeated to him by Jeanie (one of the Canadians). When I had walked with her earlier in the day, I had told her I was seeking to experience a depth of inner aloneness, and that I was willing to tolerate the layers of vulnerability that came with it. On reflection, I realise that in some circles that makes me a little unusual. The notion of inner aloneness had come up at a retreat I attended a couple of months earlier. I understood it to mean the place beyond the illusion of separation, where inner aloneness is in fact experienced as unity with the Divine, rather than the aloneness I was more familiar with. And to experience unity I would need to dissolve the layers of separation.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, Belorado, camino de santiago, Camino Frances, Divine, hospitaleros, illusion of separation, inner aloneness, lost, pilgrim, Santo Domingo, sincere, Soul, truth, unity, vulnerability
    • Mary Margaret Murphy

    • Recent Posts

      • Taking the plunge! 30/01/2021
      • Guided by Intention 30/01/2021
      • Day 34: Lavacolla – Santiago and Goodbye 13/04/2020
      • Day 33; Ribadiso – Lavacolla – 32 km 12/04/2020
      • Day 32; Palas de Rei – Ribadiso – 25.8 km 11/04/2020
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