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: grace

    • Day 32; Palas de Rei – Ribadiso – 25.8 km

      Posted at 7:39 pm by Mary Murphy, on April 11, 2020

      My plan for the day was clear: I was going to walk to Arzúa and spend the night there regardless of what anyone else was doing. Why? The answer to that question lay with my experience of attending Mass in Arzúa the previous year.

      On that occasion I knew I was in a special place when I heard the soulful sound of a singing congregation as soon as I entered the church. Then without any knowledge of the language I felt completely enthralled by the Priest when he spoke. It wasn’t what he said as much as where it came from, and I knew the scene was set for a powerful experience.

      Moving towards the altar to receive holy communion I felt a oneness with the community of people around me. As I met each person, I watched their facial expressions and the devotion in their movement as they returned to their seats. I experienced a level of grace and connection that is impossible to describe and out of that space the words came; ‘if I die now it’s okay’. It would be okay because I had experienced everything.   

      Later the Priest invited the pilgrims amongst the congregation join him at the altar to receive a blessing, and we stood before him in a semi-circle whilst he searched internally for his words. When he spoke, my mind had no idea what he said but my heart recognised their source and tears streamed down my face. I felt loved absolutely.

      Mass in Arzúa is a nightly event, just as it is in most towns along the route. The blessing is a nightly event too, yet its impact was such that I felt it was the one and only time it had ever been given. Of course, I wanted to return in the hope of the experience being repeated, without any guarantee that it would be.

      During the day I talked to Leo, who was part of the Spanish/Limerick contingent I had met a couple of days earlier in Samos. He told me that he had received reports advising that accommodation in Arzúa was already fully booked. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear and initially I blocked it out. I wasn’t going to be easily diverted from my goal. However, as I thought more about it, I realised that I ought to listen to what I was being told, even though I didn’t like it. The prospect of not being able to get a bed in Arzúa was not one I really wanted to test, and although it wasn’t easy to let go of what I wanted, my day became a lot easier once I did. My Camino was teaching me about flexibility; without realising it, that had been a persistent challenge for me over the previous thirty-two days. By letting go of my fixation on a particular outcome, other things became possible.

      That night I stayed in Ribadiso, a hamlet with a couple of albergues two or three kilometres from Arzúa. After the initial relief of checking in and completing my chores, I went to the bar with my journal and a beer, and I noticed how lost I felt without my new friends. In Mike, Jackie, Frank, Jill, Brett and a few others I had found an inclusive circle where I felt safe. I didn’t know where any of them were and I was afraid of losing them. With only two days to go before arriving in Santiago I was afraid that I would be celebrating alone and I didn’t want that.

      However, as I sat there Leo came in and joined me at my table while Javier joined some friends he knew. Soon we expanded to become a trio when a UK pilgrim joined us, and when I spotted Heather and Eugene arriving, I invited them over to join us for dinner. The things I worried about sometimes manifested into being while probably mostly they did not!

      Posted in Day by Day | 2 Comments | Tagged albergue, Alone, Arzúa, Blessing, Camion, Connection, devotion, flexibility, grace, journal, letting go, love, Mass, oneness, Palas de Rei, pilgrim, Ribadiso, Samos, Santiago, Soul
    • Day 6; Estella – Los Arcos

      Posted at 6:46 pm by Mary Murphy, on December 15, 2019

      There was an amazing still quality to the morning as I walked through the town of Estella. I felt present to the awakening of the day while the town’s residents were still mostly asleep, except for the early morning delivery workers. In my normal everyday life, when I step out of the house the city is already fully alive and active, whereas on the Camino, I got to experience each day slowly unfolding, and it was a beautiful, precious thing to witness.

      After a gentle start to the day I came upon a painted yellow arrow that didn’t fulfill its promise, which is to direct pilgrims out of town while remaining on the Camino. As I stood trying to figure out the direction it was pointing towards, Monika from Brazil arrived on the scene. She was on her own that day, whereas normally she walked with her boyfriend and his father, and until that morning we were Buen Camino acquaintances only. Without a common language we communicated with gestures and a few words agreeing which road to take, more in hope than certainty. After a couple of kilometres, the absence of Camino signs and other pilgrims became concerning, as we found ourselves in a part of town that was as dead as a dodo. There wasn’t a living soul to ask directions of, but rather than retrace our steps, we kept going in the hope that once we reached the edge of town, we would be reunited with the familiar yellow arrows of the Camino. It was a risk that paid off, as soon afterwards we knew we were on the right track when we reached the Bodegas Irache landmark.

      Mid morning, when I was alone again, I went into the church in the small village of Villamayor de Monjardín. Inside I rested my rucksack against a pew and waited as my eyesight adjusted to the darkness. The church was held in near total darkness as the narrow windows were more like slits that allowed in very little daylight. Gradually three men came into focus: two pilgrims and a man with a Camino stamp standing alongside an altar of lighting candles. While I searched for my Camino passport, the two pilgrims left and I walked over to present myself to the man with the stamp. He immediately clasped my hand and held it while he said a few words in Spanish. I beamed as the sincerity of his blessing landed within and I felt elevated to another world by his powerful, loving presence.

      Walking away from the church my heart felt full, and as I looked across at the vines in the fields, I saw what was around me through new eyes. I felt oneness with nature and I wanted to walk alone to savour the grace of the moment, however I could see Swedish Ann just ahead, waiting for me. When I reached her, I didn’t have the heart to say I wanted to walk alone. I told her about my experience in the church, but I felt a bit cheated that the spell I was under had been broken.

      Soon afterwards I walked ahead of Ann; her pace was too slow for me, whereas the previous day I had willingly fallen into step with the quite gruelling pace set by David. That hadn’t suited me either, but I had stayed with him and as a result my left leg was sore.

      After lunch I caught up with Manoel who was also walking alone. At first I didn’t know if I wanted company, but I discovered that walking with Manoel was actually very comfortable. He was undemanding company, and it was easy to walk with him in companionable silence or talk as the mood took me. When we arrived in Los Arcos, Manoel phoned Sue to get her location and we followed her directions to the private albergue where she was staying.

      The hospitaleros, a husband and wife team, had converted a house previously owned by the woman’s grandmother and had named it Casa de Abuela (Little Grandmother). As soon as I stepped into the intimate family kitchen it felt familiar and homely. Bread was baking in the over and through the glass oven door I could see that it looked like a large doughnut. Upstairs I was sharing a small dorm with Manoel, and Elisabeth from Paris while Sue was in another room. We also had the luxury of having the hospitaleros do all our washing by machine for an extra fifty cents. Washing clothes each day is very much part of the daily ritual, but washing by hand doesn’t really get clothes clean – at least, not the way I washed them.

      The afternoon was comfortable, lazy and carefree. I had lunch in the albergue kitchen, followed by conversation and map reading with Monika, my Brazilian friend from the morning’s adventure, along with Sue, Manoel and Elisabeth. Afterward I went for a walk, found a bank to get some money and sat in the square with some Australian pilgrims having coffee. When I returned to the albergue, the kitchen was quite and I chatted to the male hospitalero while he did his chores. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated what they offered, in their attitude and their facilities. I also wanted to know more about the bread! I was in luck – he was about to make a second loaf for our breakfast in the morning. This was a level of hospitality that I hadn’t experienced till then and that afternoon I became the apprentice bread maker at Casa de Abuela.

      Looking back, I can see that Day Six had everything!. In particular staying in Casa de Abuela was one of the most relaxing and enjoyable experiences of the whole Camino for me. A week in, I was beginning to find more of myself, I felt more available to others and sharing the journey changed it completely.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged altar, awakening, Blessing, Bodegas Irache, Buen Camino, Camino, Camino stamp, Casa de Abuela, elevated, Estella, grace, heart, hospitaleros, Little Grandmother, Los Arcos, oneness, pilgrim, Sincerity, Villamayor de Monjarin, wine fountain, yellow arrow
    • 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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