to dream the impossible dream

My final day in Santiago was marked with ineffable elation amidst the pouring rain and embraces of all who understood what it meant to set foot on the way of St. James.  An indescribable dream to celebrate in the sanctuary of familiar faces and winged forms...

A warm voice whispers "The camino starts now" and it´s meaning is a daily resounding echo of a purpose beyond physical exploration and taxation.  Every moment as a springboard to parallel the steps of the pilgrimage.  Seek.  Observe.  Revel in eternity.  Substitute judgement with compassion.  Entertain all with openness of thought and emotion.  Understand that you may never understand, and most obviously... love.

"When it was over, all I could think about was how this entire notion of oneself, what we are, is just this logical structure, a place to momentarily house all the abstractions. It was a time to become conscious, to give form and coherence to the mystery, and I had been a part of that. It was a gift. Life was raging all around me and every moment was magical. I loved all the people, dealing with all the contradictory impulses - that's what I loved the most, connecting with the people. Looking back, that's all that really mattered." - Waking Life

Santiago 38.5

¨What does it feel like to be a character in someone else´s dream?¨

I posed the question (and quote from a favourite film) in partial jest although mainly due to the surreal hour spent in the company of one who renderd the distinct impression that I was a mere extra on The Truman Show.  The man whose acquaintance I´ve just made is caught off guard and hesitantly answers that he does not believe this to be the case but then begins a tirade of personal ambitions such as smoking cigarettes (for the pleasure of it because apparently other people don´t enjoy it as much as he will), working at a law firm that allows beards, carrying the 3 bottles of recently purchased alcohol on him over the next 20k (just in case), and walking the last 60 to Santiago in one day (because he is supposedly the fastest on the camino trail).  The final week of this adventure certainly contains a fair amount of eccentricities.

In two days this stretch of my camino journey will come to an end; news in which my bodily readily rejoices.  However, it is mentally difficult to imagine a life beyond washing socks in the sink, Compeed, back aches, and bunk beds.  What will really be missed is the developed sense of family; the excitement of seeing old faces amongst new landscapes.


The region of Galecia is easily the most picturesque section of the camino between the pouring rain and the brief moments of sunshine; the deep forests with their towering trees cultivate a feeling mirroring Alice´s as she entered Wonderland for the first time.  With the budding leaves taking on hues of autumn there is a sense of beautiful displacement and childlike fascination.

I had feared that the camino would be somewhat anti-climactic after I had reached Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the path where one leaves a stone from their home country to atone for sins past.  For reasons unknown to my lower consciousness, much excitement had been generated in regards to this particular landmark as soon as I had been made aware of its existance.  Instead of a stone, I left a small Ganesha statue which had been gifted to me during one of those lovely moments in Kerala.  What followed this moment was a reminder that there are no such things as holy or unholy moments.  Angels were sent forth in the forms of felines, forgotten guides, and alarm calls that test the ideologies of faith and inner strength.  No such thing as an anti-climax here. 

With a degree of slight heartache, due to time constraints and a mercurial knee, I´ve had to forge ahead leaving behind some of the finest pilgrims I´ve had the pleasure to acquaint myself with.  However, it is very easy to find myself in warm company with many promising to meet me at the gates of Santiago, a moment that I carry equal parts of hesitation and eagerness.