... Under The Blood Moon

Sunday in Burgos

This journey has been 1000 times more difficult than I ever imagined.  For every oozing, bleeding blister, for every crackling tendon and painful muscle spasm, there seems to be at least a dozen mental and emotional soft spots rising to the surface.  And, as I'm learning on a daily and even hourly basis, there is no escaping either the brutal physicality or the raw vulnerability that this trek demands.

I find myself preferring the company of the landscape, however barren, to the company of others as I walk.  It's more a reflection of my desperate need for quiet and solitude than anything else.  Of course, I remain grateful for my place in our pilgrim community, and continue to enjoy some entrancing group dynamics in the evening, as well as some riveting individual conversations.  As we wear ourselves down, body and soul, it remains one of the undiminished camino miracles, how honest and vulnerable people are willing to be.  Or maybe, how little energy there is to be anything else.

From the Clouds

One of the dearest people I've met this week is a dashing Dutchman who eagerly reminded me of the pending blood moon.  I knew immediately I wanted to try to gain my daily distance to Santiago by the light of this most rare of celestial occurrences, and was grateful that a few others were up to the mystical challenge.

When the night arrived, we made a point to pack our bags and go to bed completely dressed, foot bandages and all, in effort to make as little disturbance as possible for our roommates.  There's nothing like the shuffle-shuffle-zip-zip of others when you're still sleeping to bring out your not-so-pilgrim-like attitude.  We made certain the door was unlocked, as many albergues literally lock you in to prohibit said early departures, grabbed our boots, and quietly slipped into the night.
 

Daybreak

Our 3am departure was well timed for the beginning of the eclipse here in Spain.  It was perfectly thrilling, and perfectly freezing.  We followed the clear path of the Milky Way as so many thousands have done before, as this, the Milky Way, was historically another name for the Camino.  It is also the course by which ancient pilgrims plotted their way to Santiago de Compostela, Compostela literally meaning "star field".

Kissing Shepherd

I think it was an experience that defied clear thinking.  The contrast between the power of what we were doing, and the depth of fatigue we were experiencing was utterly absorbing, leaving no room for anything else.  I was grateful for the distance from my demons.  It's already surreal to recall the long night, but there are a few things that I'm determined to remember.

I remember feeling wonder beneath the different stages of the eclipse, and the consequent illumination or obscurity of the path in front of me.  I remember being in awe of the dark beauty, and the juxtaposing power of light.  I remember my breath catching at each shooting star.  I remember feeling a little like Fieval, heartened by the fact that people I love were watching the same sky, somewhere out there.  I remember fantasizing about warm beds with lots of covers and steaming coffee and wearing my brothers' hoodies.  And finally, I remember feeling grateful to be here, despite and maybe even because of all it's cost me.  So while I continue to not fully understand what in the world I'm doing here, I walk on.