Motivation2Go Blog

October 14th, 2004

During the night I wake up a few times. Strange dreams… I cannot recall anymore.
But the main feeling I get is, “enough, it’s time to go…”
I want to be home again.

As I wake up I choose to leave rainy Finesterre back to Santiago.

After checking out from my hotel, I sit in a cafe next to the bus station, waiting for my bus.

I order hot chocolate and a croissant from the cafe owner. He disappears and 10 minutes later I see him through the window walking down the street, carrying a fresh croissant for me from the village baker… A nice treat… The universe is sending me a message - that I deserve it…?

While eating my croissant, a man enters the cafe, looks around, and walks straight to me.
He says a few words in Spanish and hands me a black plastic bag. When I look into the bag I find inside all my t-shirts, which apparently I forgot in my hotel room.
Another sign from the universe that I’m being taken care of…?

Arriving to Santiago after a long and tiring bus ride. Going to sleep now. Feeling that something has moved yesterday.

Talk to you soon.

October 13th, 2004

As I leave the hotel in the morning, I buy something to eat on the way and I’m heading to the end of the world.

It is sunny and warm. I take a towel with me - just in case I’ll find a sandy beach to sit on…
The road to the end of the world passes through Finesterre and climbs up and up about 3 km away from the village.

On the way up, on the side of the road, gazing into the sea, hundreds of meters down - I find a girl I met before on the camino.
I join her, and we watch, for a while, the waves breaking onto the rocky shore.

The wind gets stronger, clouds are forming above us, and we choose to continue our climb up to the end of the world. On the way, we look for a path that goes down to the shore.
After a few futile tries to go down some goat’s paths, we find one that leads all the way to a huge rock in the water.
We sit silently on the rock for a long while, gazing into the turquoise water, waving to passing fishermen…

When the wind threaten to blow us into the sea and the rain starts, we climb up again - to the road that leads to the end of the world.

The end of the world turns out to be a huge cliff above the water. There’s no more land beyond it - only water.
On the top of the cliff there’s a big stone cross marking the place where, traditionally, the pilgrims that finish in Finesterre burn their walking shoes and clothes to symbolize getting rid of the past and opening to a new beginning…

I’ve heard about the ritual, but until this moment, I didn’t realize that the place is here.

I brought nothing with me to burn. Not even my green plastic lighter - to light a fire with.

I’ve participated in a few rituals like this in the past (once almost burning my house, when the ritual got too intense…). Each one of these rituals was very powerful, and I am sorry for not preparing myself for this one…

As an answer to my sorry thoughts, the rain gets stronger and the wind blows so strong, I need to hold to a rock, not to fall and roll down…
This, at least, relaxes me a bit. I realize that there’s no way I could light a fire now… so, probably it isn’t my time yet…

Instead, I stand on a rock, watching the endless sea below me, letting my hair go, and asking the wind and the rain to purify me.

I don’t know for how long I stand like this, but when I wake up from my trance - I am so cold, I can hardly move, and my hair is so messy I can hardly see.

We go down, back to Finesterre and the sky gives everything it has. It is pouring rain. The wind matures to a storm. I’m so happy again. I spread my arms, looking up to the sky, letting the rain and the wind do what they have to do…

When we get to the village we’re looking for an open café to have a cup of hot chocolate. But, it’s siësta time and everything is closed.

After a hot bath in my room, I fall asleep for a while.

When I wake up I think of going back tomorrow to the end of the world and burn what I need to burn…

I’m thinking - what is it that I need to get rid of, to transform, to change… so I can burn tomorrow a symbol of it…
As hard as I try, I can’t find anything worth getting rid of…
Stubbornly, I keep looking, when a phone rings inside my mind…

“WHAT?", I bark on the disturbing caller.
“What if there is nothing to change?", asks the voice on the other side.
“Who are you?", I ask angrily the voice.
“God", he answers.
“So what do you want?", I’m still pissed off.
“What if there’s noting to change?", God asks again.
“Of course there is!", I answer.
There’s silence on the other side.
“I’m working consciously on transforming myself for the last 20 years. I’m preaching about transformation for almost as many years. And believe me, even after all these years - there’s still a lot to do…", I continue.
“What if there’s nothing to change?", God asks again. This time, something in his tone of voice catches my attention.
“Then what is the purpose of my life?", I ask.
“What is the purpose of a tree?", asks God back.
“To grow", I answer, trying hard not to listen to my own words…
“And when it is already big, what is its purpose then?", asks God patiently.
“To grow", I answer again…
“And where does the tree grows to?", asks God.
“To the light!", I answer, as a soft, big sun rises up in my consciousness…

I, suddenly, feel peaceful and calm, as I never felt before.
There are no more questions in me.
There is no need for an answer.
When I remember to thank God for this conversation, there is no one on the other side.
I guess he had another call to attend to…

An old pilgrim told me a few weeks ago, “it’s not why you do the camino, but what for. And you’ll know the answer when you’ve arrived.”

Well, I had to go to the end of the world to realize that my purpose in life is not to change or transform, but to grow towards the light. Like a tree…

It’s time to become more like a tree.

A tree doesn’t try to become an animal or a rock, not even another sort of tree.
A tree is just there. With its strength, its shade, its fruits…
A tree doesn’t run after anyone to convince them to rest in its shade or eat from its fruits. Yet it is always there - for those who wish to enjoy its shade and fruits.

It’s time to become more like the tree that is patience and wise. Knowing that after the winter, comes always the spring. And after the fall, there are new leaves, then flowers, then fruits, and then the fall again…

More like the tree that is determined - digging its roots deeper and deeper into the nourishing earth. Keeps growing towards the light… keeps growing…

Only later I realize that this understanding was there all the time during the camino. Yet somehow, I missed it till now…

So many times, the question “what if there is no need to change?” popped up again and again in my mind. And I ignored it or shoved it aside.

And my daily intention “open my heart", which kept on popping up, although it didn’t fit what I thought was “appropriate"… That’s the being of a tree. It isn’t pushing anyone, nor running after anyone, convincing them to sit in its shade or eating its fruits. Yet, it is there open hearted, unconditionally giving anyone who comes its shade and fruits… Open my heart…

I see my words and books as my fruits… I still wonder what is my shade, what is this presence I have or still need to grow…
Time would tell…

I feel quiet now. At peace.
Like a tree…

…

In one of the first days of my camino, a priest in one of the churches asked me where did I start and how long am I going to walk to Santiago…
I answered that I’ve started a few days ago in St. Jean Pied de Port and I have about 40 days to complete my camino.

He said, “Jesus walked in the desert for 40 days… it’s a good number.”

“I hope it won’t take me that long.", I answered.

As I finish my dinner and walk along the small harbor, on the way back to my hotel room, I realize… today is the 13th of October - my 40th day on the camino…

No coincidence really…

October 12th, 2004

Leaving the tourist-flooded Santiago on a bus trip to Finesterre.
Finesterre was the final destination of the Templar pilgrims. In the Templar church in the village they had a special initiation ritual… They say that when you’re doing the camino for a spiritual purpose - this is your final destination…

This two-and-a-half-hour bus ride is a strange experience.
The Eucalyptus trees on the side of the road passes way too fast for me…

In the last weeks I learned to meet individual trees. I’ve got used to watching each tree coming my way on the path, greeting many of them with a silent “buenos dias” and hearing many of them whisper back, “buen camino"…

Today, through the isolating glass window of the bus, the trees are running away from me. As much as I try, I cannot reach out to any of them. They became woods again…

Arriving at Finesterre, I see the sea for the first time. Also the sun shows up for the first time in days.
Finesterre turned out to be a fishermen’s village, built around the little harbor.

After finding a great room watching the water, I head down to the harbor.

Tens of tiny fishing boats rest on the water, wait patiently for the fishermen to complete fixing their nets and setting the shrimps traps.
The fishermen look so expertly, yet leisurely, busy on the docks… I am walking fascinated in the first sunny day in days…
Again, I get the same longing I’ve got before, to join those men in their simple, purposeful tasks.
And again, I don’t dare to ask to join them tonight, when they sail to catch tomorrow’s dinner.

I sit on the dock, feet above the water, daydreaming about a romantic night sail - rolling the nets, sorting the fish, eating, drinking, joking together…

When I wake up from my dream and look at the faces of the fishermen busy with their day tasks, I get the feeling the my romantic view of their life is no more than a dream…

After a long stroll along the beach I go back to my room and fall asleep. When I wake up it’s almost dark outside and I’m ready for dinner.

I avoid the main village restaurants by following two old locals, I guess are going for dinner. They lead me to a small, hidden restaurant at the far end of the harbor, where I eat the best dinner on the camino.
I have no clue what is the fish I’m eating, but it is so good, as well as everything else on my plate, that I refuse the desert - to keep dinner’s taste a little longer in my mouth.

A perfect day, except the fact that I find out that the Templar church is no longer open to the public…

Tomorrow I plan to walk to the end of the world…

October 11, 2004

I thought the last 18 km walk to Santiago would be a piece of cake. Kind of marching easily into town - completing the camino.

Well, I found out that the camino isn’t over till it’s over. These last 18 km are quite a challenge. A lot of climbing up, and then climbing steeply down, just to climb up again.

While walking, I try to figure out what is “appropriate” to think or to feel on my last day, last kilometers of walking….
Nothing really special comes to mind - which is kind of disappointing.

I am not in the mood for a real effort, and that doesn’t help. I get very clear about the importance of attitude. I remember the days I was excited and looking for the day’s walk - and then it was easy, enjoyable, full of insights and fun.
And then there were the times, like today, when I just wanted the day, the walk, to be over. And of course, it seemed like it will never end.

I realize that, just when I can see Santiago, 3 km away, and I choose to change my attitude.
Suddenly I am happy, excited, singing in the rain, and sure enough… within half an hour or so - I enter Santiago.

And, as the camino isn’t over till it’s over… I still have 2-3 km of climbing up and down the city streets - until I get to the center of the old city - to the cathedral (which I do not enter) and the pilgrims’ office, where I get my official completion certificate - the Compostela. A Latin-written document, with my name and today’s date on it, and an official looking signature and a stamp.

I hope it says something about me being officially enlightened now, or a saint, or at least a nice person…
But I wouldn’t know…

After checking into my hotel room, I take a stroll in the city…
It’s a national holiday and Santiago, for me, is way too crowded with tourists and pseudo-pilgrims.
Hundreds of those park their cars on top of the hill, just outside the city gates. They take out of the car a stick, a shell and a small backpack and head down to the pilgrims’ office to get their Compostela certificate.

And in front of the cathedral, where twice a day there’s a special mass just for pilgrims, there are Disneyland-type lines of hundreds of people, waiting in the rain for two-and-a-half hours to get in, be blessed and - poof - all their sins will be washed away…

Instead of joining them, I choose to take the bus tomorrow morning to Finesterre, 100 km away and sit there on the beach until the holiday is over. Then I’ll come back, just before flying home, and get all my sins washed away…

It also gives me a chance to collect a few new sins in the coming days…

Sitting in a restaurant for dinner I do some mathematics…
I’ve just completed a journey of 800 km or so…
And this journey, like any other journey, starts with one step…
I wonder how many steps I did…
Considering that I carry 12-13 kg on my back, mostly climbing up or down, I estimate that my average step is 50-55 cm.
A quick calculation comes up to one million and a half (1,500,000) steps more or less.
That’s a lot of steps. And I walked each and every one of them. One after another.
And I arrived… I did. Yippee!

… but when I drift into sleep, I suddenly know… This camino is not over yet…

October 10th, 2004

Yesterday, expecting the arduous walk of today, I began shooting a personal horror movie.
It was raining all night, and in my movie I saw myself - walking, soaking wet for 33 km.
I ran this movie so many times until I got really bored. At one point I just told myself that I can always stop after 12 km and complete the rest in the next day. Meaning, arriving to Santiago one day later…

It was only when I relaxed my “have to” and turned the movie off, that I could look myself in the eyes and say, “what a lot of bullshit". I did so much these last 5 weeks. What are another 33 km in pouring rain… or anything else…

In my sleep I dreamt about flying…

Morning arrived and the rain stopped. Also the wind is gentler than yesterday.
The path again climbs up and down, mainly among Eucalyptus woods.

It is Sunday, and the path is full of Spanish groups and families and foreign tourists - all came to walk the last kilometers to Santiago. It’s crowded and the energy is very different than in the earlier stages of the camino.

After weeks of walking, most pilgrims found a certain silence inside. They walk by themselves. Very few conversation. The short meetings between pilgrims are warm and caring.

The newcomers on the way walk only with their lunch bag, an umbrella and a camera. They are dressed from head to toe in rain gear. And when they’re not loudly talking to their mates, they loudly talk on their mobile phones.
Their energy is different, their focus is different, their purpose, I guess, is different.

And although I don’t want to judge them, as this part of the camino is the most beautiful - still - I enjoyed the energy earlier in the camino much more…

The big loud groups of weekend-pilgrims also causes me to speed up each time I meet them, so I can leave their bubbly noise behind me as fast as possible. As soon as I gain distance from a noisy group, I usually crash into the back of a new group, causing me to speed up again…

As a result, I feel like running most of the long 33 km. When I arrive to the albergue in Arca, I realize I made this distance in 6 hours and a bit - I was… practically running…

During the walk my camino-book is taking more and more life of its own.
It’s too early to share about, but it makes me excited, that for a while, I don’t even notice the weekend-pilgrims anymore.

I’m also trying to figure out how my life is going to change as a result of the camino. Or to be more exact, how have I changed as a result of the camino, and how should I change further.

One thing that comes to mind is that today I know (from experiencing) that any journey, and dream, any project - has a beginning and an end, and in between xxx number of steps that need to be walked.

Today I know, above any doubt, that all I have to do in order to manifest that journey, dream or project is simply to walk all these steps - persistently, continuously, without letting disappointments, setbacks, rejections, difficulties or moods, change my general direction.

That’s a new positive, empowering belief.

I also feel somehow softer. Especially softer with myself. I even think my face softened and rounded a bit.

This is strange, as I was demanding a lot of myself during these weeks. And yet, I took care of myself. I worked a lot on accepting and forgiving myself. I looked myself a lot in the eyes - and either I really liked what I saw in them, or those things I didn’t like - I could finally relax and smile about, hugging myself.

Isn’t that what love is?

October 9th, 2004

Sitting in a restaurant in Melide, trying to recall the events and insights of the day…

Leaving Ligonde after a relaxed wake up and a long meditation. Although it’s after 8:30 it’s still pretty dark. Everything is wet - the rain was pouring the whole night, but mainly - it’s windy.

Today is wind day. Small trees, big branches and restaurants’ chairs clutter the road. Throughout the day I move more from left to right than straight forward as the wind uses my bag as a sail…

After half an hour of climbing the steep road I warm up, but almost every person I pass asks me if I don’t have a jacket… Somehow I feel they really care.

I actually enjoy the new challenge.
After the beating sun and the pouring rain, and of course - the daily challenge the earth puts in front of me - the small continuous hurricane I face today is something new.

At one point I realize that the same sadness I feel when talking to a girl I met on the camino, I somehow feel towards myself, when I react from my fear of “there’s not enough to go around".

As I explore the similarities I realize that when this girl I met is not willing to see her power, her potential, her successes - I’m sad as I can see all those, and I can’t make her see what she’s not willing or not ready to.

When my higher-self that knows, from experience, that abundance does exist, looks at the frightened child inside me - that experienced scarcity and is not willing or not ready to see a different reality - there is the same sadness.

I wish I could find a way to bridge between those two parts of my consciousness…
I guess mainly I need to pay more attention to my inner, scared child, after years of neglecting it in favor of connecting and communicating with my higher self…
I need to find a way to do that…

Later I spend a long time realizing and enjoying the feeling that I’ve created a wonderful life for myself. Relationship, daughter, friends, home, work, lifestyle, values… I’m happy with what I have and what I do.
I feel so grateful. To me, to the universe, to everything that is in my life…
It’s a good feeling.

A long, arduous day is in front of me. Tomorrow - more than 30 km, mainly over a very rough terrain to get to the only albergue in miles. It will be my longest walk, except my night walk. As my body usually screams after 22-24 km, I’m a bit concerned…
I wonder, though, does my body screams when it knows there are 2 km more to go, or is it really the distance…

In any way, I’m after a few physically difficult days. It’s supposed to rain all day. And there’s the feeling of ‘I have to’. All together make me want to be already at the other side of tomorrow.

I’m almost finished with this great dinner.
I hope it’s not raining outside, as the albergue is 500 meters away…

No more challenges today, please! I just want to relax now…

I think this is my overall feeling right now.
I just want to relax now.
In two days - I’ll be able to relax.
No more walking to do. Hardly any weight to carry.
I’m manifesting a sunny weather again, so I can just sit on the beach in Finasterra and relax.
Later I’ll take an easy day in Madrid and back home to Vered and Thom. To hot water and a big bath - whenever I wish. To a clean, soft, big bed. To clean clothes…

It’s amazing how small things I always took for granted became so important…
I never liked to do the laundry.
Now, I’m just looking forward to the opportunity to do my laundry by hand (in cold water)…
I’ll never complain about doing the laundry again… promise…

And I wonder, would I be any different than before?

What I can see clearly now is that I’m so much more easier today, when anything goes wrong (wrong being defined as anything different than the way I planned it to be… ) It’s not only the outside flexibility I mastered a few years ago… But also the ability to just flow with whatever happens without getting upset, tensed, stressed or resistant.
I like that!

I also think that somehow, my view of what difficult is - has shifted. I know today, in each one of my body cells, that I can do whatever I’m challenged with. I believe this knowing is here to stay. Which will influence my way of dealing with any challenge in the future.

We’ll see. Time would tell.

I’m going to ask for the bill and get away from here.
I want a bed and a good sleep, before tomorrow’s challenge…
Sweet dreams…

October 8th, 2004

I wake up to the noise of everyone dressing up, packing and leaving the albergue as well as the occasional thunder.

It’s pitch-dark outside and pouring rain. I try to ignore the noise and do my meditation. But the more pilgrims leave, my awareness shifts to the thought that where I want to go today, there are only 18 beds in the albergue and the next one is 12 km further.

If I won’t move now, I might sleep on the floor (with no mat or sleeping bag).
Again, this thought of lack makes me act.
I do my thing quickly and at 8 AM I’m ready to go.

I say goodbye to Fritz and Alice, knowing I really am going to miss them, and grateful for the little time we’ve spent together.

As I go out, the rain has stopped, but it’s too dark for me to walk. As I step out of the albergue light, I’m can’t see the road anymore.

I think of going back to the albergue and wait for a while, when I notice that yesterday’s restaurant’s light is on.

As I get closer I see that the restaurant is open and serves breakfast. I enter more to run away from the darkness and wish to meet the girl from my dream - than from being hungry for the usual Spanish breakfast of toast with butter and marmalade and a cup of hot chocolate.

As I enter, the mother recognizes me and enthusiastically invites me in.

I look around but my dream girl is not there. I assume she is at school or… and then she enters.

She sees me and greets me so beautifully, so enthusiastically I get the feeling she feels like me.

I sit at the bar to have my breakfast, so I can be close to her when she prepares coffee or washes the cups.

We are 40 cm away, but the easy, light chat we had yesterday disappeared. I’m a bit embarrassed, she looks shy now, and we find anywhere else to focus our attention on than on each other, although we stay physically as close as the bar between us allow it.

I keep trying to find in my head the right way to ask for her name. A question I was somehow longing to ask since yesterday. When I finally ask her, she answers “Natalia” so immediately, it seems as if she was just waiting for me to utter the question.

“Natalia", I repeat aloud, enjoying to hear the word coming out of my mouth. She smiles and looks away.

When I finish my toast, I pay and say goodbye. Natalia’s concern, if I’m not cold with only my t-shirt on, makes me feel warm inside.

We say goodbye again and again, and thank each other again, and I have a chance to say one more time her name…
She wishes me “buen camino” from the door, and our short and sweet love affair is over.

Outside it’s a bit lighter and I can easily find the arrows leading me away from Ferreiros.
I’m actually pretty amazed from all the arrows suddenly.
In Galicia - the signaling system is at its worth. The arrows are far away from each other, often fading away or almost hidden behind bushes and walls.

And now, when I need them to be as clear as possible because of the darkness and the heavy fog - they are everywhere. There’s a big, bright, yellow arrow every few meters, and in places that might be confusing - there are multiple arrows, making sure I won’t get lost.

Maybe another message from the universe, trying to tell me to trust its abundance. Whatever I need shall be supplied - when I need it…

As I relax about finding my way, my thoughts go back to Natalia. I’m trying to figure out what was it that attracted me to her.

The answer is clear. She’s alive. She’s alive like Fritz and Alice are alive. Like not many other people I know are alive, unless they just did the One Experience or something similar. And her aliveness is spreading around her like an aura that affects everyone around.

Almost anyone else I’ve met on my way, in these small villages seem so dead. So disappointed of life. So lost of any hope. Any dream…

Seeing these people, some of them as young as Natalia - so bored, defeated, dead - is painful.
And yet, here, in this little cow shit stinky village, working in a bar-café-restaurant, which her mother is probably working in for the last 50-60 years - there’s a young girl who’s alive and kicking.

Somehow I know, as a professional dreamer - this girl still has a dream.

I spend some time trying to guess, what can be her dream, her passion.
As hard as I try, I can’t penetrate into her world, her past, her upbringing and conditioning and I remain blank concerning her aspirations and dreams.

I make an agreement with myself to ask everyone I meet, I mean really meet, what is their dream.
Maybe that is my next mission - to awake people to think about and manifest their life dreams.

And then, an idea I entertained a few times before, becomes more and more alive.

What if I will offer myself as a “life dream coach"?
I can offer a process where anyone who has a dream, but doesn’t dare or doesn’t know how to make it happen, can take the next steps to realize his or her life dream.

The idea excites me. I know I have what to give.
While developing in my mind all the details - planning, promoting, methods, etc… the sun shines out for the first time in days - and I take it as a personal sign from the universe. An approval or reassurance that I’m on the right path.

Talking about the path… today’s path continue to climb up and down with very few stretches of flat ground. It’s pretty tiring, but it deepen an insight I’ve got already, a few days ago.

I climb up and down with much more ease, less pains and less tiredness than similar climbs in the first days of my camino. I have no doubt that my legs’ muscles got much stronger and more flexible with this intense, daily, in-life training.

Actually they get stronger especially when I walk the more difficult parts - especially climbing up and down.

And as I’m so wise suddenly, I wonder - how come in life, when the same process apply - I choose many times to take the easy way, or the shortcut.

Meaning, if I wish to strengthen my writing muscles, I should tackle daily the more difficult writing tasks… So how come I choose not to do it, in one way or another…

Something to look at… and change.

…

There’s a lot more that I saw for myself today, like in almost every day…
But I choose to share here only a few paragraphs out of the 12-15 pages I fill every day.
I thing it’s enough.

75 kilometers and 3 more days to Santiago.
Maybe later will come the time to find a way to share all that I saw for myself in this inner camino…

Have a good one yourself.

I love you…

October 7th, 2004

25 kilometers from Samos to Ferreiros.
Wonderful nature almost all the way.
The path keeps climbing up and down among bountiful oak, chestnut and other fruit trees.

There’s not a moment of boredom in the way. It keeps on changing - going up, going down, the path widen then narrow again, the terrain keeps on changing…

Very few people on the way. Most of the day I walk totally alone.

I’m still very quiet in my mind. Not many thoughts. Not many insights.
Even the impressions of nature just leave mental pictures without words to describe them.

In the back of my mind I keep remembering that I need to walk these 25 km, and that the albergue in Ferreiros has only 22 beds, and the next albergue is 10 km further, and that I left Samos around 9 AM - almost 2 hours after everyone else…

The longer I walk, the more I’m busy with it. I speed up and try to manifest an empty bed.

Sure enough, around 14:30 I get to the albergue - the first one. I take a hot shower, climb on my bed and fall asleep. I wake up 2 hours later to discover that the albergue is totally packed.

I choose to focus on my need to be the first, the need that comes from a deep fear that there’s not enough to go around. In this case, not enough beds for everyone, not enough hot water, etc…

I try to find out the source of my fear, but I can’t. As long as I can remember it was always there.

I get the idea that in this life I have an opportunity to transform this deep belief, through experiencing the universe’s abundance.

When I look at the room - it is quickly filled with pilgrims putting their sleeping bags everywhere. I guess there are twice as many people as the space can actually hold.

And the fact is in my face. There is not enough to go around… And my pattern of behavior brought me to get a bed and a hot shower, which 20 other people didn’t get…

What is the universe trying to tell me?

Which is the moment when Alice and Fritz are entering into my life out of the blue…

This Swiss-German couple is almost 50. They live a life of freedom most of us can only dream of. After 17 years of living in Australia (no kids - a conscious choice for freedom) they stopped liking the political situation anymore, so they sold everything, packed everything that left (16 kilo each), put it on their back and started to travel the world.
Eleven months is Sri-Lanka, India, Nepal, Syria, Lebanon, Portugal… and now… the camino - from Santiago - backwards…

Fritz was a pacifist 30 years ago and refused to serve in the army. In order to avoid a criminal record, he fled the country for 8 years. Today, he says, he changed his mind - and he’s more of a moral terrorist.

I like that. A lot.
From a pacifist to a terrorist.

They look good together. Joking and laughing a lot together.
They say they’re happy with their lifestyle.
I don’t believe many of the people who tell me they’re happy.
I believe Fritz and Alice.

I’m trying to figure out again, what is the universe trying to tell me.
I know I get the answers to my questions.
I just don’t get them… yet…

…

It’s dinner time. I eat with a couple I’ve spent some time together before.
The food itself is not heated enough, but the waitress is hot and alive.
It is a long time since I’ve seen, in any of these small villages, someone who is so alive.
She speaks a bit of English, but struggling in Spanish and get her to laugh each time I mess it up, is so much more fun…
Her mother, who runs the place, is also alive and fun to be with. I guess they keep it in the family.

I decide to stop this bullshit wine-drinking, which I started entering the camino.
“In Rome behave like the Romans” and the cloudy feeling when going to sleep have lost their charm, and I was left with an empty feeling, a sensation of dryness in my body and mouth, dreamless nights and a feeling that my body cannot heal and recuperate when it is filled with alcohol.

So I drink a big bottle of water, which feels healthier and in a way - tastier.

The talk is good, and I feel the three of us touch each other in our own special way.

Going back to the albergue and entering quietly into bed in a room packed with snoring people, I stay awake for a while, thinking mainly of the waitress, who disappeared before we left - and I didn’t get to say goodbye and thank her.

Just before leaving the restaurant we learned that the weather forecast for the coming 2-3 days is rain and more rain… Well, well… More stuff to wash away, I guess…

October 6th, 2004

From my hotel room to Samos, it’s about 22 km.
The walk starts with a thick fog that continues for most of my way today.
I have very few thoughts during the walk.
I’m quiet inside.

October 5th, 2004

This is the SMS I’ve sent Vered today at 2 PM:

I’m resting now after
a hot bath in a hotel
in nowhere (Padornelo).
I walked today the
hardest part of the
camino - 20 km up the
highest mountain, in
pouring rain, half
naked, singing & flying
all the way.
Don’t worry, I’m not
losing it. I’m just soooo
happy.
I wish u were here with
me. Love u.

It pretty much summarizes where I am right now.
But for the record, here is what I recall:

I’m sitting in bed in my room in a small family hotel.
Listening to a symphony of Gustav Mahler that is playing with my heart, making me feel as if my heart is the leading instrument…

The day started a bit later than usual. Everyone in my room overslept.
Usually, everyone is awake at 6:00 and by 7:30 I’m among the last ones to still be around.
Today, when my alarm clock went off at 7:30 I was the only one awake.
It is dark and quiet and I sit in bed and meditate on opening my heart.
It becomes easier each time, and I immediately find myself bathing in the center of my enormous heart.
Around 8 AM I get up, do my morning routine and at 8:30 I’m out - going to conquer a mountain.

The climb starts immediately and keeps on going.
It is a slow and gentle slope, but after an hour or so, I understand the saying, “killing me softly".
I’m sweating heavily and the cool morning breeze almost freezes me. My heart is pounding fast, my legs’ muscles are complaining and my hands are so cold I can hardly move my fingers.

At one point the camino takes me off the road and into a side path leading up the mountain through the forest.

This is the beginning of the real climb that will continue, according to my book, for 5 long kilometers.

As I climb the rough forest path, the forest immerses me. It’s magical. It’s ancient and dense and almost dark.
The drizzling rain that was accompanying me all morning changes into real pouring rain.

I can hear the rain drops falling on the tree tops, but under the trees - it’s almost dry.
I can feel a drop here and there on my nose or my arms, but the forest creates a magical bubble around me.

After another hour of hard climb I am panting hard and soaking wet. Sweat and rain drops, that penetrated my bubble, are mixed together and washing me.

Coming out of the forest path at La Faba I enter the local café/bar for a hot chocolate and a toast.
The café is crowded with pilgrims, putting on their rain gear, ready to fight the rain again…

I contemplate getting my rain gear too, but the little child in me refuses. He wants to feel the camino and nature as they are. Not to run away and avoid…

I was arguing with my little child earlier this morning. Most of the pilgrims left their bags in the refuge, for a local taxi to take it up the mountain. My little child refuses to take the easy way…
And he’s quite stubborn today…

I leave my rain gear inside my bag and after paying for my breakfast I’m out again wearing only my short-sleeves t-shirt and shorts.

Stepping out into the rain again I realize, that the 20 minutes inside the warm café cooled off my body, and I’m freezing again. I’m almost sorry for listening again to my little child, but after a few minutes of hard climb, I gain speed and my body warms up quickly.

Going up and up, mountains all around, the view is phenomenal. Red and green mountain tops peeking through layers of clouds underneath me.

For almost the first time during the camion I use my camera again and again to try (in vain, I think) to capture the magic.

Another hour of climbing and I enter the clouds. Visibility drops to practically zero, but I’m surprised - it doesn’t rain anymore. It’s cool and wet, but no rain…

I feel cleansed and pure and I want to walk totally naked, to feel the clouds caress my body.

As a compromise with my inner judging grownup, I take off only my wet t-shirt. I walk half-naked and feel each step as walking inside a gentle car washing tunnel - feeling lighter, cleaner, happier each moment.

Suddenly, the path enters a square. I’m inside a village. I can’t see more that a step or two in front of me. I put my shirt on again…

I find out that I’m in O Cebreiro - the village on top of the mountain. My destination for today.
It was so easy, so pleasurable, I just want to go on and on, not to loose this feeling.

I enter the village café after almost mistaking a big brown horse to be the wooden door of the café…

I get a wonderful warm empanada that creates a taste explosion in my mouth with each bite. The same does the fruit juice I drink.

I can’t stop smiling and humming to myself.

I choose to go on until I drop. I don’t want to stop…

I look to the bar and the sexy bar woman is wearing a white t-shirt, with black print covering her big breasts saying, “don’t stop… go on…”

I can’t believe it. God is now sending me messages written on girls breasts… Good times indeed…

I can’t hold my laughter, causing a few people to look at me, kind of weird. I put my bag on again, step into the rain and the zero visibility, singing Queen’s “Don’t stop me now” at the top of my lungs.

The walk from O Cebreiro climbs up and down the mountain on the main road. I dance and sing in the heavy rain. My arms are spread on their own volition and I’m flying.

I think I made some drivers’ day, as they see suddenly in front of them, coming out of the mist a long-haired, soaking wet pilgrim enthusiastically waving hello…

They wave back, horn their horns, and we’re all happier by the moment.

For 6 km I keep on flying, dancing, singing. Here and there I pass small groups of pilgrims, isolated inside their big plastic ponchos, trying to become as small as possible, so the rain would wet them less…

I just fly singing past them, dancing between the drops, letting the rain wash and clean me.

At one point the path changes from the main road to a small dirt road passing through tiny villages.

Since the path keeps climbing either up or down and the rain keeps getting stronger, the path becomes dirt streams, and as I pass through a village, the rain washes away all the cow shit, which makes yesterday’s dirt road into a black and yellow, muddy, slippery shit river.

And I am so happy.
I don’t feel happy. I don’t think I’m happy.
I’m just happy.
Each cell in my body is smiling, giggling, singing and jumping up and down in joy.

I realize that while the rain washes away the cow shit from the village streets, it also washes away my own bullshit. All my bullshit beliefs and concepts about what I need in order to be happy. What I need to achieve, to do, to have, to posses, to become… to be happy.

I feel so happy, I want to keep going forever.
I’m so wet that the rain doesn’t feel wet anymore.

My shoes prove to be water resistant, by holding most of the rain inside of them, not letting the water that came in get out. They become so heavy, that I choose to manifest a hot bath and a soft bed, so I can call it a day.

As in no albergue there is any hot bath (I’m lucky if I get a quick hot shower), I choose to visualize a small hotel, a private room and a long hot bubble bath.
To enhance my visualization, I add a beautiful, naked chamber maid that washes my hair and dries me with a big fluffy towel.

Five minutes later I get the key to room number 2 in a local hotel in Padornelo.

The owner promises me that there is a bath in the room and as I follow him up the stairs to my room, I look around for the sexy, naked chamber maid.

I can’t find her and the old grumpy owner doesn’t look like he’s going to wash my hair, so I compromise on doing it myself…

I should have focused better….

Ten minutes later I’m soaking my freezing body in the hot bath.
An hour later I’m sound asleep in the soft bed.

I wake up 2 hours later to the sounds of my stomach demanding lunch.

When I look for dry clothes inside my bag I discover that the bag is as water resistant as my shoes. It stopped the water only from getting out, not from getting in…
Most of my clothes are soaking wet, as well as the notebook I use as a journal.

I’m surprised to find myself smiling. And with this smile I just spread the wet stuff to dry all over the room.

Everything is ok.
I feel so good about myself.
Wet clothes, loss of my journal, the grumpy owner or the half-burned tortilla I’ve got for lunch - nothing changes my good mood.

I have nothing to do until dinner, as the rain keeps on pouring, and I don’t feel like getting wet again.
I lay down in bed, listen to classical music on the radio, and meditate on my heart.

A few hours later, it’s dinner time.
I’ve ate meals that were made with more love (and less oil) than this one, but to be honest - it is one of the best tasting meals I had on the camino.
Strange how different life is, when I’m happy…

When I go to bed and get ready to sleep I realize - the 3 blisters that bothered me for days - disappeared without a trace…

Good night…

October 4th, 2004

26 km today to Vega de Valcarce.
Walking for 6 hours and (after arriving at the albergue) sitting for two hours in the blazing sun made my brain melt. It’s 6 PM and I try to recall some of today’s insights without any special order.

My intention for today is again “opening my heart". I stay in bed for a while focusing my attention in my heart. It feels tickling and energized and I find it hard to get up and start my day as I have to let go of this experience…

Walking out from Cacabelos, the road climbs up immediately. After a short kilometer along the road I find a detour to Villafranca leading away from the road.

I walk alone this dirt road that curves among vineyards abundant with grapes, and I feel happy. Simply happy.

As I walk on, I enter a little village in a small valley.
The old villagers are doing their thing - cutting the red and green peppers and burning them on outdoor ovens. Cleaning the black plastic grape buckets. Hanging red chilly peppers or yellow corn to dry. Or cleaning the pavement in front of their house.

I notice, that as I walk the village streets, my pace is slower. I breathe deeper to inhale all the different scents. My mind is quieter and the gaps between one thought and another are longer.

Greeting these old people and being greeted, I feel a strong connection. As if I actually know each one of them.

I suddenly have a longing to a similar life style. Quiet. Slow. Simple. I find myself imagine living here while seeing all the ’se vende’ (for sale) signs.

When I leave the village and continue the climb among the vineyards a car passes me. Driving slowly, almost in a walking speed, the old farmer drives his small pickup truck packed with a heavy load of dark-purple grapes.

Pictures of life back home flash in front of my mind’s eye. Driving my car as fast as it goes just to get stuck in a traffic jam for 20 minutes or longer, just to speed up again…

Or riding a train somewhere, looking out of the window, to see the view passing so fast, I can’t actually make any details…

I realize that back in the ‘real world’ - most of us live our life in a neck-breaking speed, that causes us to live like in an MTV video clip.

While these old villagers, I just said farewell to, experience their life from birth to death as one long, continuous, slow movie, we - in the ‘real world’ - experience our life as made of short, fast, blinding, fragmented, hallucinated clips - with no story line, no thread, no purpose, no long-term satisfaction, no connection to nature, the weather, the seasons or the circle of birth and death…

I don’t think I could live these villagers’ life style - but I sure would have loved to bring some of it into my life.

The path takes me down to beautiful Villafranck el Bierzo. I find an open supermarket where I buy breakfast and some fruits for the road.

Going out of Villafranca, the path goes parallel to the road in a valley between high mountains. The view is magnificent. It’s just that the asphalt river to my right and the speeding cars make the contrast to my morning’s experience very painful.

I find the camino path parallel to the road pretty bizarre.
It’s an asphalt path that was painted for a long 20 km in bright yellow. The yellow of the camino signaling arrows.

In my mind I ridicule it as I call it, “a walk along the yellow brick road"… until I realize it’s not that far from the truth.

I do actually feel like Dorothy and her friends (from the Wizard of Oz) walking the yellow brick road, hoping to find a wizard of sort, to make me more aware, to give me courage and open my heart.

And like them, the longer I walk, the more I realize I don’t need a fake wizard anyway… that I have all I’m looking for inside of me. As if in each step I walk, I shed some old skin, allowing my awareness, courage, even my heart to shine through.

I, too, have my evil witch. Deep inside, raising her ugly head every now and then - judging, criticizing, doubting, belittle…

And I, too, am not anymore that impressed of my evil witch anymore.

I guess I’ll find out at the end, that in order to achieve all my camino purposes, I didn’t need to walk the camino. And yet, I wouldn’t/couldn’t have experienced that - without walking each and every step of the camino.

Tomorrow, the most difficult day of the camino. Climbing 900 meters up the mountain to O Cebreiro. From the map and from the look of the mountain in my window - it looks almost like climbing a wall.

In reality, the real climb goes on for 4-5 kilometers.
Still, it seems quite steep.
Keep your fingers crossed for me…

October 3rd, 2004

Starting the day with the intention to open my heart, looking for ways to maintain this feeling of yesterday.

I’m sitting now in the sun, in a wonderful club-med-style albergue in Cacabelos.
After a shower and a few hours of relaxing in the sun, my body feels vital again,charged with energy, warm from the inside. But my mind stopped working…

I had so many insights today. A special walk. But my mind is gone… and I can’t make any order… So I’ll just write whatever comes, without any special order…

Today’s 20 km walk went easy. I arrived quite early to this beautiful refuge with 35 double rooms, circling the old town church. As I return to my room, after 2 hours in the sun, I find that my room mate for tonight is a German guy I met a week ago. He had a rough day yesterday and today he managed only 15 kilometers before he collapsed on the bed next to me.

I am hungry, so after a short talk I get out to get something to eat for the both of us. I insist he stays in bed until I bring him his sandwich and I feel like Florence Nightingale - my good deed for today…

Back to the morning walk. While walking, I wish to spend some time with a couple I spent time with in the last 2 days. I realize this is a pattern of mine, which is amplified by contrast to the camino way, which is meeting someone, saying hello, then saying goodbye, knowing you probably will never meet again…

I realize that when I meet someone who I enjoy being with, I develop a light attachment to the safety, the comfort, and the known … and I long to reconnect… Something to look at…

Early in the morning I realize that there are a few things I need to take care of. Arriving at Ponferrada, the last city I’ll see for the coming days, I know I need to withdraw some cash from a friendly wall and find a mailbox to send my daughter the letter I wrote her yesterday. I am also hungry after two hours of walking and need urgently to use the toilet.

As I follow the yellow arrows, they lead me farther and farther from the city center and no bank, café or mailbox in view.

At one point I choose to relax and let go. If I won’t find a bank here, I’ll find it tomorrow. I can pee in the fields outside of the city. And although it’s Sunday, a bit later, there must be an open bar in one of the small villages on the way.

Sure enough, as soon as I relax, I see an open bar across the street and next to it a mailbox. After a relaxed breakfast and a visit to the toilet, I send my letter and the cash machine waits for me in the next corner.

Just trust.
Which makes me think for a while.
I come up at the end to 2 definitions:
Faith (I mean REAL faith) is knowing that everything will be ok.
Trust (REAL trust) is knowing that everything is ok as it is.

And in this philosophical mood I remember a guy that before the camino was an atheist. During his camino he used a powerful logical argument that brought him to the mental realization that God does exist.

When I was younger, I would have enjoyed the philosophical argument.
Today, I find it funny.
This guy - before - he believed that God doesn’t exist.
Today - he believes that God does exist.
Both are just beliefs. No knowing. No experience.
He never had an experience of godlessness and never had the experience of godness.
He just plays mind games…

Like we all do, whenever we choose to believe instead of experience…

Walking most of the day among small vegetable gardens and huge vineyards, I see people working the land, mainly picking up fruits and vegetables.

It is a beautiful sight to see couples and sometimes a whole family work together to make their living from the earth. And then I realize - it is Sunday (in a very catholic area…)
Suddenly the romantic picture I drew in my mind changes to include the “must", the “need", the “no freedom” of choice.

I pass a vineyard where 9 people of different ages are working together, chatting and laughing while picking the dark-purple grapes into black plastic buckets.

They look like a family or a bunch of friends. They are cheerful and at ease with each other. Greeting them as I pass by I feel longing to join them.

I think about asking them if they could use a hand, but embarrassment and lack of language make me go on without acting upon my longing.

It makes me think about choice.
When I’m totally free, all the choices are available to me.

I realize again how true it is that I cannot make mistakes.
Whatever I choose will lead me to a certain lesson.
I cannot make a wrong choice.
Each choice I made till now in my life led me to where I stand today.
Each step I became wiser and more aware, which is the only thing that really makes me richer.

To my next life I won’t be able to take with me any of my physical possessions. Not even my mental possessions in the form of memories.
The part of me that will continue and is eternal is my consciousness that grows from each experience I have as a result of constant choosing.

My inner discussion went on and on… But what I got out of it was that I should stop mindfucking about my next step, is it the right one, the right time, the right way, bla, bla, bla…

I only need to jump into what seems to come next and trust the universe and its abundance to provide me with what I need… There is nothing to be afraid of. Only in choice there is real freedom.

Make a choice today. Any choice. See what I mean…

October 2nd, 2004

Getting up in the morning I make a choice to drop my book, my daily planning and my need to control…
I choose to let the camino guide me…
I choose to walk until it feels right to stop. To ignore the time of day or the number of kilometers I’ve walked.

It’s darker than usual. It’s misty. I can’t see the sky or the mountains. Only a few steps ahead of me.

The path climbs up between dark bushes and trees. The mist becomes thicker as I climb, visibility drops and I feel as if I’m walking in a fairy tale forest.

It’s very quiet. No voices. No sounds. Not even morning birds.
The path climbs steeply up.
My feet that protested at the beginning, sensing the rough, stoney path, relax now.

The climb up is easy, and the cool, humid mist makes me feel like floating inside a soap bubble.

Half an hour later.
Suddenly, the sun is shining. The sky are light blue with a trace of red feather clouds.
The tree tops are shining in the sun and soon I can see my feet again, coming out of the mist.

As I look back and down I realize it wasn’t mist at all. The whole valley underneath is covered with a thick light-gray layer of clouds.

The view is magnificent.
I’m walking above the clouds in a child’s drawing.
The colors are simple, clean and strong.
The light blue of the sky. The transparent white moon. The green trees with dark-brown trunks. The red sun and purple clouds in the sky. The white narrow path. The light-gray clouds underneath. And the dark-brown mountain tops, slicing through the clouds…

Two months ago I would have probably observe the view for a moment and take it for granted.
Today, after 4 weeks of walking 550 km on this earth, I feel as if this view was created just for me.
I stop and take my time to appreciate it.

After climbing 700 meters up the mountains, the steep, curved climb down begins immediately.

My body that got used to the climb up has to change gears, and my muscles and joints find it hard to change…

On my way down I pass two villages, hidden until I’m almost on top of them. The dogs are sleeping in the middle of the road. The windows are closed. The local tiny churches are locked. It seems that the only ones awake are the kittens that try to catch the sunrays…

At last I find an open bar and I sit to give my back and feet a rest, and my stomach a double breakfast.

As I continue my climb down, the path changes into a dried, narrow, rocky river bed.
It’s quite a challenge, trying to find the right place to put my foot on the bare, sharp rock.

At one point I start follow a pattern in the rock.
The sun must have beating too hard, too long on my head, as I feel I’m walking over a mandala. This inner picture takes me this way and the other. A few times I realize I even take half a step backwards before continuing.

I’m almost gliding over the sharp rock, but my awareness is sharp and flowing. The walk is almost effortless and I feel strange confidence and calmness.

The sun keeps beating strongly, but I feel cool and through my half-closed eyes I see the river fast-flowing. The water are white, strong, fast… I think I’m a fish in the water, but then I realize - I am the water. I feel powerful, confident and flexible.

This experience continues for only a few seconds, but the feeling of power and confidence stays for a long while.

A little while after the dry river changes into a cows path, I notice a few burned trees around. As I walk on, it seems that a huge forest fire happened here not so long ago.

The trees are black and their remaining branches pointing their black little fingers towards the sky.

As I contemplate the strange landscape, I wonder.

What if life is exactly as it should be?
What if good and bad, beautiful and ugly, aliveness and death - all need to be here exactly as they are?

What if there’s no need to change, to transform, even to forgive?

What if WE don’t need to change?
What if we’re god’s perfection exactly the way we are?

…

After I rest for a few hours in the albergue at Molinaseca, I climb to the local church to talk to God about all this…

I sit and meditate, and a few minutes later the old priest begins to turn off the lights and close the place.

He notices me and smile. I begin to stand up to walk away, but he signs me to sit and stay.
He then sits with me and closes his eyes.

As I go in, I want to ask my question about the need to change… Instead, I find myself ask god, spirit, the universe to help me open my heart. “All the rest", I hear myself promise, “I’ll do on my own. Just help me open my heart.”

For the next minutes, words and thoughts disappear. I feel my heart grows and grows, slowly engulfing me, and keeps growing and engulfing the church, then the town, then Spain, than Europe, then the earth and then the whole universe…

For a while I sit there in the center of an enormous heart.
A metal sound shakes me out, and as I open my eyes - the old priest smiles and signs to his watch.

I say “Gracias” and he approaches me and touches my heart for a second.

He locks the church behind me with a big iron key.
I head down to a bench overlooking the river.
I catch the last rays of sun while counting my blessings…

Don’t forget to count yours…

Love you.

Something I realized today…

Freedom is - giving without conditions and receiving without shame.

September 30th, 2004

Saying goodbye to Angelo, he directs me to another alternative route, off the beaten track to Astorga.
It’s a bit longer than the ‘official’ path, along the highway, but 18 km are not going to scare me after the 38 km night walk…

However, within a few hundred meters my leg muscles and joints start screaming in a chorus.

Nothing interesting to report from the first half of the way. Not because there is nothing around, but because I can’t notice. The pain is consuming all my awareness.

Later it eases up a bit, and I can enjoy more the way and especially the sky. The sun is shining in my back, while the almost full moon is high in the sky in front of me.

Later, in the albergue, I learn that my legs condition is known and the best treatment is to rest, apply ice, and a specific specialized massage…
Well, since any of those is not in abundance on the camino, they would have to wait…
I’ll give myself energy healing instead…

Anyway, arriving at Astorga, I follow the yellow camino arrows until they disappear (by the way, I dream regularly on yellow arrows leading me anywhere… including the toilet… ) An old local that sees me confused signals me with his stick to follow the uphill road. I ask him if that leads to the albergue, and he says, “No, I’ll take you there.” And he does.

Slowly, slowly he leads me in small alleys, going farther and farther from the center of town. I don’t know if he takes me where I asked for, but I have no doubts he takes me where I need to be.

A few minutes later we arrive at a long street bordering town, and he tells me to follow it to the end.

A few more minutes and I can see the big school building, still active and alive with shouting kids, that its upper floors are now the municipal albergue.

It’s not the albergue I planned on, but I have the feeling that someone there is waiting to meet me.

As it turned out to be, I am the second Israeli to arrive today.
The other one is the first Israeli I meet on the camino.

This young guy is walking in life a very similar path to the one I walked 18 years ago. Trying to postpone serving in the army, by going first to university. Trying to figure out a way to leave everything he grew on, the army, the country, the values…
Trying more to gain the courage…

We talk and he wants to know more and more. What I did at the time. How I did it. And especially, how I am today and what do I believe in.

I give him myself. As much as I can. With the dark and light.
Old memories surfaces.
Some funny experiences - we laugh.
Some regrets, “I wish I would do it differently” - We cry a bit.

After we speak I look at his young face. There is a different light in his eyes.
I have the feeling, that somehow, without consciously intending, without even knowing it - I was someone’s angel on the camino today…

A good feeling.

A few minutes before it’s September 29th, 2004

I’m leaving the restaurant, back to the hotel where I stored my bag in the morning. I dress up warm and off I go into the night.

It’s a bit cold, and I’m a bit shaky.
I look up to the sky and, sure enough, he’s there - full, big, white moon.
Spontaneously, I say to him aloud, “hi man!”
It’s funny, until this moment, I always considered the moon to be feminine. But I guess tonight I need a male friend to walk with me…

Walking out of León, I pass through it’s poor neighborhood. The empty, dark streets, the lack of camino signs, the bars that are closing down and the loud shouts of the men leaving the bars, make me anxious and alert to the edge of my nerves.

I fantasize all the bad things that can happen to me. Mainly people that can hurt me. My muscles are tensed and my whole body is ready to fight or flight. I wish I had my stick now…

I try to calm myself down, knowing that by sending this violent energy out, I’m attracting the same violent energy.

I’m relieved to leave the last lights of León behind me, just to realize I’m entering the highway, along which I’m going to walk for the next 30 km.

I walk on the left side of the busy road, filled with countless trucks driving as fast as they can, blowing hot air and smoke. I feel as if they might run me over any minute.

Again, fear tenses me. As well as the disappointment of having to walk along the highway for the rest of the night.
My only hope is that within a few kilometers, I would follow a dirt road parallel to the highway, a few meters away from the rushing trucks, their blinding lights, their horns and poisonous fumes.

An hour later, as I enter the dirt road, I see a sign with a map describing the next 25 km along the highway, and… an alternative route to the south, away from the highway. It’s an isolated, longer route. When I check my book to learn more about the new route, I discover it’s not there.
The alternative route is out of my map.

As much as I wish to run away from the highway, knowing that I would have no way to know where I am and where I am going to, cancels the possibility of me taking the more attractive route.

500 meters down the road, I reach a small junction. Straight ahead leads to the route along the highway. I take the left turn into the fields to walk the alternative route…

That’s it. I have no control anymore. And I know, I’m going to be lost. Full moon or not. Tonight, I’ll probably end up sleeping in a field…

Each step I take, leads me farther and farther from the bright-yellow highway lights. And when my worried mind takes a break, for a second, from its apocalyptic chattering, I notice that I’m on a long dirt road, between corn fields - and there’s light.

I can see everything. In detail. The light is different than I’m used to. It’s white. It’s sharp yet weak. In a weird way, it’s warm and comforting. I look up to my new friend and say again, “thanks man.”

The time passes. Monotonous fields, a tree here and there, the moon, countless stars and me.
The smell is different. Sharper and fresher than during the day. Almost alive.
It’s quiet. except my shoes caressing the earth, night birds screeching, and the dogs barking and howling in the distance.

I have no clue where I am.
But I’m not lost.
I stop and turn around.
I can see the path I’ve walked stretching forever behind me…

I feel at peace, like I haven’t felt before.

I don’t know where I am, but I’m not lost.
I don’t know why I am here, but I’m certain there’s a reason.
I don’t know who I am, but I know I am.

And it’s ok. All is ok.
Life is.

…

Here and there along the way I see distant lights, promising that the next village is closed by. But, I discover, lights in the night play tricks on me. As I walk towards them, they seem to stay in the same distance. Or suddenly disappear as I climb down a small hill.
When I finally arrive, the lights are the only thing that is on. The small villages are deep asleep. No sound… except the barking dogs…

After a few hours of walking, my feet snap me out of my trance. They burn and scream for a hot shower and a long rest in a warm bed.

In the next village the church’s clock says it’s 4 AM. The road sign insists that my destination is 13 km away.

I know it’s too much for my feet, and probably for my back and joints as well. If it was daytime, I would have called it a day and looked for the local albergue.

But it’s 4 o’clock in the morning and it gets colder by the minute. So I take some fruits out of my bag, and go on…

The tranquility and peace inside have shifted into sharp alertness to each step I take. The path is rougher now and I’m trying not to step on any stone, that would shoot pain into my spine through my feet and legs.

When I look around, it’s still very quiet and beautiful.

My awareness moves back and forth between focusing on the beauty and peace, and focusing on the pain and my increased tiredness.

At 7 AM I can see Hospital de Orbigo’s lights a little distance ahead. As I finally crawl into town, the first rays of sun are shining behind me, not yet in competition with the full moon that is shining in front of me.

Walking around town, I try to enter the 2 refuges and the local hotel, but they all locked. The notes on their doors say they’ll open around noon.

I reach the 3rd albergue, at the other end of town, in tears. I try to open the door, but it’s locked. As I begin to walk back to the small plaza in the town center, the albergue’s big, wooden door is opened and a little man is coming out.

I tell him I walked all night and I need a bed. He says he’ll be open at 11:00. I ask for a bed now and he hesitates. “It’s a problem", he keeps repeating in Spanish.

I go inside and let go… It’s ok… All is ok.

“No problemo", I suddenly hear. He smiles and say, “We won’t clean the room today. No problem. Come in…”

This time the tears in my eyes are tears of gratefulness.

I lay in bed and fall into a deep, deep sleep.
I wake up at 11:30, take a shower, take care of my feet, and fall asleep for a few more hours.

In the afternoon I take a stroll down town and stop in the local church. I sit and meditate. I’m grateful for the night.

I realize that when I went through my fears of survival, my fears of being hurt, my fears of hurting others, and my fears of letting go of control and getting lost… I got to a space of serenity, I never felt before.

And the pain and suffering, gave me the opportunity to encounter another angel on the path.

Speaking of which… As I come back to the albergue, the hospitalero from this morning is offering me to join him for dinner in his favorite restaurant.

He makes me meet everyone on the way, in the restaurant and in the kitchen. I didn’t shake so many hands and kissed so many women for a while now… We get a special dinner, a bottle of wine and we talk and talk and talk…

My small Spanish wordbook finally serves its job, as hand gestures and my limited Spanish, are not enough.

We talk about life and the camino.
We talk about the journey inside.
We talk about angels and demons.

He says that in Spain they believe that on the camino you meet your angels and demons, so you can get to know them. Then you can invite the angels into your life and avoid or chase away your demons…

I sure got my share of angels, him being one of them, as well as some of my demons - always being part of me.

I’m just not sure if it’s for the same reason as he believes…
I’m learning to accept, to forgive, to allow all the parts of me, angels, demons… are all me.

During our conversation I learn it’s his 37th birthday, and his last day as a hospitalero. Tomorrow he goes back home to Barcelona - back to his life as a legal aid in Barcelona’s court of justice.

I pay for dinner as a gift for his birthday, and we walk, grateful to each other, back to the albergue.

As we say, “good night", I walk up the stairs to the dormitory and I ask, “what’s your name?".

“It’s Angelo", he says…

Sweet dreams.

September 28th, 2004

It’s 22:00.
Need to kill another two hours before setting off into the night to walk 32 km under the full moon.
Sitting in a fast-fool restaurant in León, trying to breathe through my fears.
It’s almost two weeks that I’m planning this night-walk, but didn’t dare to communicate, as I knew I could cancel it in a minute notice as my fear level goes over my red line…

But tonight is the night. It’s supposed to be full moon, but when I looked up into the night sky there was only blackness. No moon. No stars.

Although I’m determined to go, no matter clouds or rain or snow… I can feel my fears building up like storm clouds. Am I ready to face them? I don’t know…

Small things can make me change my mind and drop the whole thing. Last night I thought of what I need to get before I go through the night. It was a short list of small stuff, as well as a new warm fleece and a new head torch (as both I’ve sent to Santiago a few weeks ago).

I’ve managed this morning to get everything, but I forgot the lighter (in case I need to light some fire along the way). I had to use all my will power to not cancel my mission because of the missing lighter.

I’ve spent most of yesterday in bed, sleeping. Trying to get deeper into the darkness inside me led nowhere. Not even dreams I can recall. Looking at my list of negativity was as if looking at someone else’s list.

But I’m not sure who is me? Who am I?

I can’t find me, and the emptiness is filled quickly with heaviness, negativity and fears.

In a way, I want to be back home, with Vered, with Thom, in my own bed, in a life that gives me a working definition of who I am.

I know the process is good for me. But I’m doubting - will I get it?

Looking at the watch, it’s 22:15. Fifteen minutes passed, four pages in my journal are filled with words, and yet… no insight.

Time passes very slowly in this camino. From its beginning. The walks stretch time forever. The afternoons of rest, the nights of sleep-no sleep… Time keeps on crawling like a turtle. Slow but determined.

It’s weird. I’ve expected that in such a process, time would disappear. Each step keeps me in present time… and yet, time is ever present.

Especially in the villages and the little towns, where the feeling is as close as I can get to the medieval times - time is even more present than in busy-buzzy 21st-century Amsterdam .

The church bells ring 24 hours a day, 4 times an hour. I just can’t avoid time dripping by. Slowly. But determinedly.

Distance, on the other hand, plays a different trick. At the beginning of my camino, counting how many kilometers I’ve walked already, and especially how many are still to be walked, was a major issue.

Last week, somewhere, there were 3 signs in the village, stating 3 totally different distances to Santiago.
I was amused, watching the pilgrims checking their books, consulting and arguing with the other pilgrims and the locals…

I couldn’t care less. I’m walking one step at a time. From one town to the next. From one day to the next. And yet, at the end of each day, I’m about 20 km closer to my destination.

But even the all-important destination is not important anymore.
Same happened to my all-important purpose to do the camino. It’s just not that important anymore.
There’s a purpose for each step…

A transparent, green, plastic lighter just landed on my table, between my drink and my sandwich. A note in Spanish followed.

The note says something like, “No house, no food, no money, 3 more brothers.” That’s it.

Without thinking I take a one-euro coin and put it next to the lighter.
A hand comes and takes the note, the coin and the lighter.

I look up into two big, black eyes of a 15-year-old gypsy girl, asking me, without a word, if I want the lighter. I nod “yes” and she smiles and handed it to me, disappearing without a word.

Once again the Universe is going out of its way to send me an angel when I most need it.

I am so overwhelm from this sign of encouragement, that I suppose the lighter is just a metaphor, half expecting it not to really work.

But it does.

Thank you gypsy angel.
Thank you Universe.
Thank you for caring.

There’s a little more time to kill…

I write a letter to Thom.
I study for the hundredth time the route description.
I get another bottle of water.

It’s time to go…

See you in the morning (I hope).

September 28, 2004

For those who read this page every day, you probably noticed I disappeared for a while.

Two days ago I’ve got a phone call from a girl I met on the camino a couple of weeks ago. We met for a day and a bit, and she took the bus, 250 kms ahead of me. She was searching on the internet for the meaning of the name ‘Nisandeh’ and came upon some of my past articles…

She called to tell me that she couldn’t understand who is this person on the web, that looks like me, yet, she said, is so different.

She couldn’t connect the two people. The one she met. The other one on the web…
She didn’t like the one on the web, and she desperately wanted to know who I really am…

I tried to explain that there are not two of me. Only one.
And then, everything inside shattered.
I was fighting. I was defending. I was inventing excuses.
And at the end I became so cool. You could make ice cubes with my goodbye words…

I was hating her.
I was hating me.

And she was right…

Everything I wrote the day before on this page, about looking into my eyes every day and loving and respecting myself a little bit more… Suddenly … all bullshit.

Looking at all the times my integrity is just a pretty concept, at all the things I take for granted, at all the roles I still play, at the image I need to maintain… The list goes on and on. I was lost - walking in circles around the town center, crying, couldn’t stop.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take myself anymore, I looked for my favorite way to avoid… an Internet Café. When I sat in front of the monitor and checked my emails, I had only one, from my dear friend, asking me gently, what the fuck am I doing… am I going for my inner process, looking for vision and clarity as I declared when I went on the camino, or have I lost my purpose…

Just what I needed… That’s what friends are for…

So, I went into the blog moderation page to read some new comments… maybe someone would have written something ‘nice’ that would help me forget… And the moderation page does not accept my password. No matter how many times I’ve tried, the small god of internet made sure I can’t run away this time…

So I took myself into the albergue to cry myself to sleep. And this time the small god of snoring pilgrims made sure I wouldn’t be able to run away with my second favorite addiction… sleep…

So, I sat in my bed and wrote in my journal everything I would call my ‘dark side’. When I’ve got to 52 items, I’ve got so disgusted… It was ugly.

It’s not that I couldn’t see the positive… It’s just that I was determined to go into my dark side and stay there this time - no running away. I thought it would be difficult, but acceptance was disappointedly easy. I felt my heart closing down, so I assume that was part of it. Not a real acceptance, just closing my inner windows and doors…

But that’s what I could do… and that was good enough for the time.

As much as I didn’t like the dog metaphor in Paulo Coelho’s The Pilgrimage, I fell asleep exhausted as if I was fighting a beast for hours…
At the end, none of us won, we were both licking our wounds…

I dreamt that I go deep inside me, in the heart of the darkness, in a place in my body just above my naval. There is a door there. The door is locked. Locked from the inside.
I immediately know who is behind the locked door. I knock gently on the door and ask my child to talk to me. He is sad. Not angry. Just sad.
I ask him when he locked himself, and he reminds me the day I’ve got so hurt from a few kids in school, that I made the decision, “You’ll never hurt me again. Ever.” I worked on that event before. I thought it was over. And yet… he is still hiding behind the door. We talk some more, but I can’t remember…

In another dream I am the small god of imperfection. I can only smile in my sleep. It is fun. I mean really fun, being imperfect, yet, knowing that as god - it doesn’t make any difference…

I wake up and choose to avoid any contact for a couple of days. See what comes up.

In the last days I do a lot of work on opening my heart again. On acceptance. On forgiving.
I feel better… although I don’t think it’s over.
Fighting the beast of darkness is not over yet…
Tonight is a full moon and I think it is going to be interesting…

Talk to you soon.

September 25th, 2004

Yesterday evening I had dinner with some guys whom mostly I didn’t meet before. An American girl coaching soccer, a Brazilian girl who celebrated her 28th birthday, a German young guy who continues from Santiago to become a monk, Carry, the Canadian girl I met a few days ago and a quiet woman from the south of France.

I’m not so good in hanging out, and this time it wasn’t easier. But the sharpened awareness of the last days, made me see what I do. Trying to be accepted, trying to be special, talking only when I have something “important” to say, mainly feeling uneasy, as everyone else seem to have a lot of fun.

I had too. It just that I was very self-conscious, which took me time to relax.

As I was struggling, I could watch myself doing it.
And I could see my mind judging myself, giving cinical and critical commentary in the background.

When I went to bed, I sat to meditate for an hour, before trying, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep.
Becoming more and more aware every day of the constant chatter that goes on in the backroom of my mind, made me sad, and made me wonder… when will it stop? Will it ever stop? Doubts again…
Falling asleep…

Waking up with the same sad feeling, I meditated - looking for an answer.
As I sit in bed with my eyes closed and my awareness relaxes, an intention for today pops up, “forgiveness, self-acceptance and self-love".

Walking the easy, beautiful path from Sahagun, I fall in love with me. I am singing aloud love songs to me…

Whenever a judgement, a self-critic or a negative thought appears in my mind, I simply accept that this is ME right now. Not trying to push it away, to convince myself differently, to grow up or transform.

Accepting that sometimes I’m great, and sometimes an ass hole. Sometimes my heart is open and I’m loving and compassionate towards the world and myself, and sometimes I’m closed off and scared and judgemental and indifferent.

Surprisingly, I can even accept the few moments I don’t accept…

I pass a stray dog, that yawn towards me. I tell him “buenos dias” and continue. The realization of what I just did gets me only after I said “buenos dias” to a yellow-flower bush and 2 trees. What gets me is that I actually mean it. To the last tree I actually said and meant, “have a great day today". I’m not sure if it answered back, but I couldn’t care less…

Now, just for the record, I don’t usually talk to dogs and trees. Not in my head and not aloud.
But today, I couldn’t make the difference. A person, a dog, a tree - “buenos dias"…

After an hour or two of walking, I fall into a deep silence.

And in this silence, a picture of a pendulum shows up.
My mental and emotional pendulum.

I can see how every time I’m off center, my immediate reaction is to change, to move the other way.

When I catch myself judgemental, I’m making a lot of effort to accept and forgive.
When I’m scared, I put a lot of effort into going beyond the fear.
When I feel myself too lazy, I become bossy to myself…

So, my inner pendulum keeps on swinging, creating momentum into one direction, which naturally at one point starts moving in the opposite direction.

And the more energy I put into changing the direction of the movement, the further away I get from my center. And more energy is given to the counter reaction.

Now, that I’m just allowing myself to watch this inner movement, my inner reality as it is, without trying to change anything, the movement becomes smaller and smaller, until my inner pendulum stands still.

In these moments there was only silence.
No sadness. No joy.
No shame. No pride.
No hate. No love.
Just silence. Stillness.

It changes later as my awareness drifts away.
But it is so easy to come back to that state again and again.

Just watching. No reaction.
And when I react. Just watching this without a new reaction.

…

And to something totally different…

I called my parents yesterday evening. My father said that after reading all my posts on this page he has a question. He was so gentle, so genuinely wanting to understand me, it was beautiful.

He asked me, “is it necessary to have life so hard?”

It took me a few moments to realize that he speaks about the physical pain, the exhaustion, the mental and emotional turmoil, the doubts…

It was a bad line, and too many talking people around, and I don’t think my message came across as I’d liked it to be…

So, I’m using this space to correct this.

Dad, this is for you.

I don’t find this camino - a hard life.
Actually, I find it extremely simple and easy experience, considering the alternative…

Every day I’m grateful to each blister and every painful muscle.
For a few years now I’m working with a wonderful masseuse, who does her best to connect me deeper into my body, moving my awareness into my body wisdom. She tried everything - from deep tissue massage, to soft and caressing touch, to hours of tickling…

And here, within a few days, spending an hour a day taking care of my body, I made that contact.
I learned to connect. To ask. To listen.
There still where to go from here, but I feel more in my body than ever before.

The awareness I’m gaining every hour creates for me space and freedom I didn’t know before. Like it or not, what I see about myself - at least I have the freedom of choice now. A freedom I didn’t have before.
And all this, in 3 short weeks.
No. I can’t consider this as “hard life".

I think you always believed I chose the hard way.
So just that you know… I didn’t.

When I chose to go against everything I grew up on, and against all society and family values, and refuse to join the army in Israel - it wasn’t choosing for hard life.
Paying the price for this choice - loosing benefits, people pointing at me for betraying all the values I grew up on, was so much easier than having to look myself in the mirror every morning for the rest of my life, knowing I betrayed my own values.

Choosing to drop the successful company I created over the years and a rich future in New York or Los Angeles, for a search for self in India, and as a result paying debts for years, while starting a new profession, in a new country, facing a year of difficulties - was absolutely choosing the easy way.
Far easier than living the rest of my life looking outside an isolated, insulated, glass bubble from the top of a Manhattan’s penthouse.

So, as always, once again I choose for the easy life. Life that I can look myself in the eyes in the mirror, discovering every day a new person. A person I learn to love and respect a bit more every day.

I hope you understand.

I love you so much. Me.

September 24th, 2004

Weird night. Dreams of loosing things. Loosing my ship at sea - it kind of melted away. Later almost loosing my bag to a thief. Before, a vague memory of loosing Vered and Thom, while running away from something.

I start walking busy with those dreams. What is it I’m afraid of losing? Is it really about losing, or about letting go? The feeling of loss in my dreams wasn’t nice. But certainly not devastating.

Am I complete with this stage of my life? And if yes, why wait before move on? Is there anything left to do?

After uploading yesterday the page with my 4 AM thoughts (pushing you to take action…) I felt good and proud of myself. I loved myself. I felt as if I did my good deed for today. Something valuable.

But now, walking, I feel sad.
I feel uncompassionate. I feel pushy. I feel not giving space. Preachy… I don’t know…

Another voice in me says, “if you let people be, without pushing them, they’ll stay in their comfort zone, in their mediocrity, stick to their fears, until it’s too painful…”
“So pushing is compassion…”

I’m still oscillating between the two voices, when a question pops up in my mind:
“Why push?”
I answer, “so people would start take responsibility.”
The voice in my mind asks again, “why should they?”
I answer automatically, “so we’ll create a better world.”
And the voice insists, “what for?”
And I find myself blank, looking for answer.

A few moments pass, so I take charge, “why me, anyway?”
And the answer comes, “because it’s your job!”

A huge wave of resistance crashes in me, “SAYS WHO?”

And in the stillness that after the storm, a little story I’ve read repeat itself in my head:

‘One-day God was choosing only 1 person out of a possible 250 million to go to Earth and contribute something great while they were there. He asked all of the applicants to write out why they should be chosen and what they would do on earth if he chose them.

He then made them promise that they would do everything they could to fulfill their promises if chosen.’

And the thought came, “what if I chose to do this job…?”

Now I better keep my promise!

Now, imagine that God chose you.

Now, go and write out what you would have told him because you can still keep your promise.

Love you, Nisandeh