May you go further than the stars

It was always my dream to do the pilgrim walk to Santiago de Compostela so, when the leaders of my hiking group sent out an invitation to walk the last part of the Camiño de Santiago Portugués, I immediately accepted. There was no time to prepare, but after years of dreaming, I was more than ready for this challenge.

The adventure began with a twelve-hour car ride from southern Andalusia to Tui in northern Spain, our starting point close to the Portuguese border. Twelve hours in a van with a group of Sevillanos, all of us wearing our face masks of course. Spaniards are known to speak faster than bullets leave machine guns and the decibel of their speech has been recorded as one of the highest in the world, which may be why life in Spain often reminds me of a book title by Jonathan Safran Foer: Extremely loud and incredibly close. 

Only when we arrived at our first hostel did one of the women that I was sharing a room with say to the other: "Turn down the volume, please - we're in Galicia now."

Our first hostel had a pool,
which was heaven after a long day of hiking

Start of the Camino

Our first encounter was with a Gypsy woman wailing on the side of the road as we drove through a small Portuguese town. We didn't speak her language so the villagers explained that today was the day of her husband's funeral, he had committed suicide a week earlier and left her here on their doorstep with his pain. I tried to look into her eyes but she saw nothing and heard no one; even surrounded by people eager to console, she was alone with her grief and somehow, she will have to move on and find a new normal. 

On our first day of walking, I started thinking about what I need to be happy, and I came to the conclusion that I really don't need much. I certainly don't need many material things - of all the clothes I brought for the Camino, I could have done just as well with half. The lighter the backpack, the easier the walk.

Along the path, there are many messages and signs and one that you will see everywhere is the Latin word Ultreia, which means "May you go further than the stars." Amongst poetry painted on walls and hearts carved into trees, we came across a yellow and blue pair of shoes with a sign saying: "Yo hago Camino, NO maratón - I'm doing the walk, NOT a marathon." The path is the destination, hence there is no need to run towards the finish line. There should always be enough time to take a break, enjoy the surroundings, gaze at the goats, swim in the waterfalls, and watch the stars at night.

After a few days, I felt comfortable enough to let go of the need to engage in conversation all the time. Sometimes, I would walk by myself, other times in silence with someone next to me. Occasionally, an interesting topic would come up and we would walk and talk until we were out of breath. However, I also learned the skill of tuning out from the incessant chatter around me and tuning in to the sounds of nature instead. Whenever my mind would wander too far off the path, something would happen to bring my attention back, like when we were drawn into the forest by the enchanting music coming from two bagpipers standing behind a stone cross.

 

One of my biggest challenges was being hungry most of the time. On the second day, I only ate a small salad, which led to feeling weak and unmotivated on the third day. The hostels we stayed at served a good breakfast and during the walk, I would munch on dried fruit and nuts, but as much as we were moving, it wasn't enough. I hadn't realized that finding gluten-free vegan food would be so complicated in Galicia, or else perhaps I would have prepared differently.

On the other hand, there were other things that I had unnecessarily worried about before the trip, such as getting lost. The Camino is very well marked, all you have to do is follow the signs. Not having the right clothes was also a concern, just like blisters, sore legs, or a possible arthritis flare-up, none of which happened even though I didn't even have proper hiking shoes. I did the whole walk in my Nike trainers and it was absolutely fine.

Obviously, we considered the risks of Covid-19, but we mostly stayed within our group, wearing face cover and maintaining distance. I feel much safer up in the mountains than out on the streets anyway. Sunburn and fatigue are also valid issues to keep in mind and there were definitely moments, even days when I didn't want to put one foot in front of the other anymore. To keep going, I would think of something a Finnish war veteran said when he visited my school long ago: "You'll be surprised at how far you can walk after you think you can't walk anymore."

In total, we walked 120 kilometers in six days. In order to get the official stamp and certificate, you need to walk at least 100 kilometers but, certificate in hand, I can assure you that this is not what the Camino is about. What matters more is reflecting, pushing your limits, finding something beautiful inside yourself, and learning from the people that you meet along the way. 

They say that on the Camino, you will never walk alone. I experienced this through God's powerful presence, as churches and crosses are everywhere, but we also crossed paths with some interesting characters, for example, an elderly woman in a green bikini and a golden cross, who was feeding a goose on the beach. She told us that the bird's name was Chris, he's about six years old and she loves him more than her dog.

At a café by the side of the road, we met a man in his 80s with three golden crosses around his neck, selling charms in the shape of cats and shells. "Why does one have to die at 100?" he asked. "Can't they create one of those app things to make us live until 120?" His eyes sparkled as he made us laugh and buy more of his jewelry.  

There was also a woman in her forties walking the Camino on her own and we immediately bonded as it turned out that she was a language teacher like me and about to start a yoga teacher training, too. Then there was a wrinkly Portuguese man with a feathered cane walking in the opposite direction as well as two Australian dudes slowly limping and smoking their way forward on the path. 

On the last day, I walked mostly on my own until another group of Sevillanos caught up with me at a crossroads where I had stopped, unsure of which way to choose. "Are you afraid of us?" they laughed behind their masks, nudging me with their elbows and using silly voices to ask me for a picture. A group of guys in their thirties, they were convinced it doesn't matter whether you go left or right so I followed them to the left. We chatted as we entered the city of Santiago de Compostela together and they asked me about my ambitions in life. 

Reaching the cathedral is one ambition that I have now completed. As I stood there looking up, surrounded by new friends, I thought of all the other pilgrims who have come before me, and those who have yet to arrive. I thought of how one adventure is really just the beginning of another, and how many of us choose different paths in life or advance at a different speed than others, yet eventually, we reach the same destination. After all, as spiritual teacher Ram Dass observed: "We are all just walking each other home."

In front of the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela

10 ways to healing

2018 won't exactly go down as the best year of my life. Then again, there is something very special about being able to move your legs de nuevo after having learned the hard way what it feels like when you can't. These days I notice and appreciate the way my feet touch the ground and carry me forward each day, step by step. A new friend in Madrid said he couldn't understand why I always take the stairs in the metro station when standing still on the escalator would give me a chance to rest before catching the next train or teaching the next class. My answer to him was simple: I walk, because I can. 

Here's what I've learned this year about how to keep going when the going gets tough: 

1. Grieve 

A few weeks ago, I had planned a kids class that I expected to be fun. Kids love animals, right? Unfortunately, one of the young girls in my class burst into tears as soon as I brought out the flashcards. Apparently, the fluffy-kitten card reminded her of a cat that she had once had. She continued crying uncontrollably for the next sixty minutes and was still sobbing when I walked her downstairs for her next lesson. 

Neither she nor I could have foreseen the flood of tears coming that day. This is what grief is like. It comes and goes and sometimes, the waves are so strong that we are completely swept away. Inundated. Overwhelmed. What we need to remember is that these waves are just feelings in motion and we must allow them to move through us, releasing anything that is holding us back. So whatever you're grieving, whether it's a pet, a loved one or a long-lost dream - let it flow. 

2. Let it be

We often talk about letting go but honestly, I don't know how to do that. Neither does the adorable little girl in my class. Since the first lesson about animals, she has gone back to being her bubbly self, yet she keeps the kitten flashcard right next to her on the desk. This is what grief eventually turns into. Memories. Love. Letting things be as they are. Holding on to the memories doesn't have to stop us from living in and enjoying the present moment. 

3. Be grateful

One of the pastors at my church lost his wife to cancer this year. Still, with tears in his eyes, he doesn't speak to us about loss. He tells us how grateful he is for the long happy marriage that they had. He sings and dances and cries, showing us how to grieve and be joyous at the same time. He teaches us to be thankful for the food on our plates and the roof above our head. For our families. For the people praying for us. For a God that always hears our prayers, even though sometimes, the answer is no.

4. Medicate with care

I have mixed feelings about the treatment that I received for my reactive arthritis in Ecuador. I have no doubt that the doctors there did what they thought was best, although sometimes I wonder if such an excess of medicine was necessary. I tried to speak up but was told that I don't understand what is happening in my body and that I need to trust the experts or else things will get worse.

Hence, I opened my mouth when they fed me cortisone that made my face swell. I accepted a hard-core chemotherapy drug that cost me my hair. I swallowed sleeping pills and anti-anxiety remedies that provoke suicidal thoughts, plus ten other pharmaceutical substances, five times a day. I'm thankful that they healed my body but I'm resentful about the destructive side-effects. I just finished my last dose and have no intention of taking any more, no matter what the doctors say. Nobody knows my body better than me.

5. Meditate

My Mexican roommate recently came back from a two-week meditation retreat in a Buddhist temple. She returned with a spiritual glow around her and a new-found enthusiasm for life. "There is nothing in this world to be angry about," she said, hugging me. "The peace is within us." One week later, that peace was truly tested when the water tank in our apartment exploded in the middle of the night, leaving us without hot water for days. Finding a plumber so close to Christmas turned out to be a tricky task, although we did succeed in the end.

Meditating doesn't (only) mean sitting crossed-legged in a temple, stilling your mind while closing your eyes to the world outside. It is what gives us the tools to remain calm and deal with reality when things fall apart and we're wading around knee-high in freezing water.

I like to start my day by saying thanks and I usually end it with a guided sleep meditation. This little ritual hasn't transformed my life overnight, but I believe that if I stick with it, it will bring about some positive changes.

6. Forgive to be forgiven

At the beginning of this year, I didn't know how to say sorry, I was unsure about what to apologize and not apologize for and I was clueless about how to forgive those who had hurt me. Then the arthritis hit and broke down all my defenses. Messengers started showing up out of nowhere, talking to me about Jesus and unconditional love.

It took me six months of therapy to finally open up and deal with the traumas of 2017 and even though I have yet to find any meaning or sense in what happened that year, I no longer avoid the unpleasant recollections. I let them be. Through forgiving others, I have arrived to what I really needed, i.e. forgiving myself for the mistakes that I made.

7. Create

One of the best things we can do with a broken heart is turn it into art. For me, that means writing, drawing and taking photographs. For you, it may be something completely different. It doesn't matter. Let's keep creating and making this world a beautiful place to be.

8. Ask for and accept help

This year has certainly taught me how to reach out. Life put me in a position where I had no choice but to depend on others and it made me humble. I no longer care about showing my flaws and imperfections; we all have them anyway.

For example, I let my Italian roommate deal with things around the house since he knows how and I don't. At work, I ask senior teachers for support as I haven't had a lot of training teaching kids and at church, I listen to those who have read the Bible because mine has been resting on a shelf for twenty years.

I'm also completely taken back by the amount of support that I have received from friends, family, co-workers and strangers throughout the year. Humbled, truly. This has been a complicated lesson for me because I like to be independent and do things on my own, but maybe it's true what they say: The universe wants to hold us, we just have to let it.

9. Give back

I may not know much about planning lessons for kids, but I do have ten years of experience teaching teenagers and sharing some of this knowledge with new teachers makes me happy. Earlier this year, I started doubting myself as a teacher and was seriously considering a career change. As it turns out, this was just another side effect of the arthritis. Once my health improved, my passion for teaching returned and now I have the motivation to become an even better teacher.

I still treasure one of the first gratitude cards I got from a student a long time ago. "You're not just a language teacher," she had written. "I can feel that you genuinely care about your students and want us to do well." She was right. This is what God has called me to do and so I will continue.

We don't have to move mountains or save the world in one day. Simply being kind and assisting people around us goes a long way. It may mean the world to someone and in addition, it makes us feel better.

10. Change your mind

Many people have talked to me about the importance of positive thinking. While I appreciate their support, I think it's important to keep in mind that we see things as we are but other people's perspective may be different. It is also a fact that mental health conditions such as depression can physically alter the brain, making it very difficult to have shiny thoughts, no matter how hard one tries. It may therefore be worth remembering that shaming and blaming isn't helpful. That being said, it is possible (and allowed) to change your mind.

The first step towards that is to accept whatever you're feeling in this moment. Frustration, fear, fatigue? Okay, let's start there. The second step is to pay attention to that little voice inside your head. What is it saying? Challenge it. Is it true? Mine has been telling me lies for years. Now, I try to meet it with patience and gentleness, pointing out that harsh words are no longer necessary.

After all, 2018 was not the year I nearly drowned. It was the year I stayed afloat, despite some freakishly huge waves. So I'm thinking maybe 2019 will be the year that I learn how to surf.

Just waiting for the ice to melt...

Make a splash, make a mess

Last week, my friend brought me to one of the biggest waterfalls in Ecuador. It's stunning, yet hardly anyone knows about it. It's hidden in the jungle, far away from civilization. No tourists come here and most Ecuadorians don't seem to be aware of this secluded cascade either.

To reach our destination, we had to drive through the mountains for four hours. It was a rainy day and as we were navigating through the clouds, I couldn't help but think that the outside view looked exactly like the inside of my head. Three months of heavy medication has made my mind so foggy that I honestly don't know what is real and what isn't anymore. I often get lost in my thoughts, or absence of such, and find it difficult to keep up with a conversation. Shadows play tricks on me and sometimes I can't distinguish between genuine feelings and ghostlike emotions.

When we arrived, we parked the car and hiked for about half an hour through the jungle. The thick rainforest surrounding us, we walked on in silence while screeching monkeys jumped from tree to tree. The lush green leaves were still moist from the rain and we gulped down the fresh air as if every inhale were our first (or last). For the first time in a very long time, I could breathe. The knot that's been tied around my throat for the past two months started to loosen and I almost felt like myself again. As we approached the waterfall, we could hear it roaring and once we were standing in front of it, I was amazed. It is hard to believe that something so powerful, and so big, can be kept a secret.

Cascada de San Rafael

On the way back, the sky cleared up a little and a few rays of sunshine managed to break through the clouds. The light, in combination with the fresh air in my lungs, helped defog my mind as well. New thoughts began to take shape and out of nowhere, words came flying to me, begging to be formed into sentences. It has taken me a week to actually put them together but still, that's progress. It means that some of the gloom has lifted and eventually, the rest will dissolve as well.

"Do you need more boyfriend material?", my friend asked as I told him that I've been struggling with a bit of writer's block lately. I slowly shook my head in response. No thanks, I'm done with the drama. Despite the fog, it has become clear to me that I don't need anyone to bring me to the highest mountaintop and take my breath away. What I need is someone who keeps me grounded and allows me to breathe. Love is not about waiting for a knight in shining armor, it's about discovering the one who has a heart of gold hidden underneath. I can climb to the top of a mountain by myself, but I do I need someone to help me keep my feet on the ground when my head is in the clouds. Sharp minds can be intriguing but at the end of the day, I want someone with a bit of softness around the edges. Someone who can be my soft place to fall because I do a lot of that these days.

Maybe the waterfalls really have it all figured out - it seems like a great idea to hide out in nature for a while. Let's go with the flow, roar with excitement, create our own music and finally, make one big splash.

10 things I'm grateful for this month

It's been almost a year since I last wrote a blog post about things that I'm grateful for so it's about time for a new one. I've actually kept a gratitude journal during the challenging month of February and here are some of the things I've noted down: 

1. Being able to walk again! For every day and every step, I get a little bit faster and a little bit stronger and I can't wait to be climbing mountains again soon.

2. Gentle, restorative yoga. I may still be far from my regular practice but at least I'm back on my mat where I belong. 

3. The tax return that ended up covering my hospital bill. 

4. Skin on skin contact. Was there ever a greater form of healing?

5. Being back at work. Not just working with motivated, curious students but also hanging out with other teachers, making jokes, doing crossword puzzles and talking about other things than being sick. 

6. Vegan mango yogurt. Delicious.

7. God. For showing me that even when everything else is taken from us, we can put our faith in him and trust that there is a divine plan behind every struggle. 

8. Pan de Quinoa. Pretty much the only gluten-free bread that I've been able to find in Ecuador. 

9. People that don't run when things get ugly, uncomfortable and less than perfect. I just love you. 

10. Last but definitely not least, every single person that has helped me in some way during this month. Be that through buying groceries, driving me to doctor's appointments, sending messages or holding me in your thoughts and prayers. All these drops of kindness became an ocean that carried me all the way to the shore.

Thank you ❤