Through the pilgrim grapevine you hear about people who´ve died recently on the Camino. The two struck by lightening near Leon, the man who died of cold in the Pyrannees, another who died of heat stroke. These people probably didn´t come to die, but there are people I meet on the trail who I could swear give off a cold whiff of the grave. I wonder if these people have come to walk themselves to death.
Last night at dinner I sat next to a 75-year-old German man whose hands shook so badly I had to help him to his meat and potatoes. He may be as healthy as I am apart from the tremor, but I wonder. Today, walking along the Rio Sarria, I met Eleanor from Ireland, who´d "just had a brain tumor out." Who knows what the prognosis is, but she was moving so slowly I thought it might take her months to get to Santiago.
Last night, I heard a German man say that if you have to die, the Camino is a good place to do it. "You get a marker with your name on it, and thousands of pilgrims will pass by and see you there. They´ll know you died trying to get to Santiago."
Walking today I thought about how even if you don´t come to the Camino to die, most people are hoping for a little death. We´re hoping to kill off parts of ourselves, at the very least--decaying parts that no longer serve us well but keep hanging on, like old skin. We come to shed old skins. To come through the heat of midday and the blister-fire. To emerge burned down to our essence.
Pilgrims' route across northern Spain
Camino marker
Where I began
Guadi's Bishop's Palace in Astorga
Where I ended up
As Artes Hotel room overlooking Santiago Cathedral, the pilgrimage terminus
Cathedral columns, Santiago de Compostela
4 comments:
'a little death'... in all the Benedictine monasteries and convents you pass, in the entire christian monastic tradition both east & west, the final period of meditation and prayer for the day is commonly known, symbolically, as 'a little death'.
Called 'Compline' - the day is completed: one's work is done, we prepare our souls for the darkness, silence, mystery of sleep / death / rest...
After this period of prayer - even in religious communities which aren't contemplative in nature - there begins 'The Great Silence'. No more conversation, frivilous or otherwise - just a profound silence...
Unlike the other periods of prayer, which can be quite lengthy, Compline is very short and sweet - the brief main hymn and it's melody is unchanged for hundreds of years, and it's the most beautiful and poignant of all the canticles. 'Now may your servant go in peace, according to your word / For my eyes have seen the glory you have prepared for all peoples...'
On your pilgrimage, if you ever overhear or join any of the religious communities in their final period of prayer, you'll hear this little song chanted at day's end - then they'll close their breviaries and solemnly walk off into the Great Silence... tripping over the dead, discarded skins of weary pilgrims.
John from Cincinnati is lame
Deadwood rules
As was said a long time ago, "You can't pour new wine into old skins".
wm, beautiful thoughts and interesting information on little deaths. I found a place for your medal in Samos--more to come.
shortribs, that sucks that John from C sucks. I miss the ocean out here, though I just found the perfect place to leave my pink seashell from Costa Rica, so have brought a little ocean energy here. Also found the place for your piece of the great pyramid.
kjp,
I think you should do the camino on your bike, making wine one of the emphases. You´d love it.
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