Killing two birds with one walk was not on my bingo card, but here we are...

With a few cherries on top. So many signs, my head is spinning.

Ponferrada> Villafranca Del Bierzo

“it will be nice and flat road” I said, “it will be the coolest leg of the trip”, I said. Woof! is all I could say at the end of the day. Have I mentioned never to google map any of your Camino journey? well, in case I haven’t, don’t! a 22 min drive is an 8 hour crucible walk on any given day.

because, for those of you who don’t know this about me but I have mentioned it a bit here or there. I come from a long line of healers, curander@s. On this trip I have really tapped into my ancestral power and have helped where needed with the women in our group. I packed my pack with way too much shit if I am being completely honest. Preparing for the unknown variables, somehow I was preparing for the entire groups unknowns. Literally, had brand new knee braces (two kinds actually), did I need them? nope, did a woman need some desperately and the right ones were no where to be found? yep, so I handed her my brand new pair. Did allergies flare up mid walk in the middle of nowhere for another woman? yep, was I able to hand her Claritin? yep. As a healer, chef and a mom for going on 21 years, I have a complex bank of remedies, natural and western, that I can deploy. It has come in handy in restaurants and earned me the name of Dr.Chef, which I am proud to be.

But as this is the camino, even the things that I am happy about within myself, get a deeper evaluation. Especially when all I have are my thoughts to keep me company on the majority of this journey. The night before leaving Ponferrada we sat and talked about how our day went. As it was my turn I said that I wanted to sort through some feelings that were on the surface. The teasing from people when something is mentioned and I say, “I have one” and lend it happily can seem excessive at times to unacknowledged scars. But I have to constantly remind myself of the wisdom I received from one my shaman years ago. No one hurts my feelings, I hurt my own feelings by having expectations on how interactions play out.

Part of this over preparedness trait is definitely from needing and not having as a child, then as a teen mom and not having anyone that I could rely on consistently. But when it comes to being teased for something that I see as an act of service (my true north love language) It starts to scratch at old wounds of bullying from my childhood. I was always the “teachers pet” because I didn’t like being bullied for being Mexican in the playground in elementary. Growing up faster than any kid should I was always more comfortable with adults than kids. But now being hearing well meaning poking because I have a bunch of random shit, old feelings come up. As I shared how that made me feel, for the first time ever, I was met with incredible divine feminine support. These women a few days ago were strangers, now there were holding the space for me to finally have the words leave my body without fear of judgement and I had never felt that sort of healing. Usually I would hate myself and cry myself to sleep. Inner child wounds are the stickiest.

Leaving Ponferrada around 8am, we left as a small cluster group. Energy, freakishly high for having gone out dancing at midnight, feet and body sore but not awful. Poles in hand with a “flat road ahead”. After turning in the wrong direction we split up between those of us who needed some pharmacy goods. I was on the pharmacy team, after getting what we need we start following the markers, as we have the past few mornings. As we cross into the first park I look down and as they have before, a perfectly well manicured bird feather was on the path for me, yes just me, duh. At this rate I will be able to pull together a whole ass bird.

After finding the feather I started to set an intention for today’s walk, get to know other peregrinos. A part of the journey I have consciously or unconsciously avoiding. Thinking that they may derail me from my work I started to think what I could possibly be missing in getting to know someone who can possibly be a part of my work. Stories, mine & theirs matter and the universe never makes mistakes in bringing people together. As my pace picked up I found myself alone and I decided to put one headphone in and set it to Shania Twain radio. 90’s country has a very specific part of my heart. It was 10:3ish am, As I skipped to Who’s Bed Have Your Boots Been Under, I noticed there was a house with bags of cherries on it and a basket laid out for anyone wanting to buy. One thing I love about these small towns that I find myself wandering through is the few locals that are happy to see those of us on the Camino. 3 Euros for at least a kilo of fresh cherries (2.2lb for my metric newbs) I left the cash and thought to myself, I can offer cherries to others to spark conversation. In hindsight now, that was creepy as hell and I definitely wouldn’t take a cherry from a stranger in most circumstances. But there I was, a bag full of cherries and me eating them as if I were in some Coney Island cherry eating competition.

While skipping and seeing how far I could spit the cherry seeds out into the dirt fields like a 10 year old member of the Sandlot cast, I receive a text photo from two of the women in our group. One, the youngest member of the group lost phone service and I, along with the other mom’s were very worried. I realized that the overbearing instinct wasn’t serving a friend of my children, how this triangle I can’t explain but I started crying as if I had lost my daughter and then she was found. As the picture came in, the song, Wide Open Spaces came on in my ear bud and I immediately again thought of my daughter.

While I am on the camino as a daughter and healing my wounded inner child, the fact that my daughter is at the age that I was when I became a mother makes this healing complicated. The stronghold I thought I needed to have to protect her like I wasn’t at her age (and younger) I realized at that instant, wasn’t necessary. The relationship that I have with my kids is 180 degrees from mine with my parents. I shouldn’t have them feel like they are micro managed. The unexpected work that has come up in these few days has surprised and humbled me. I text the group chat that I wanted to apologize for being a mother hen to a grown ass woman who, should she choose, she didn’t have to let us know where she was. I was really sending this message to my daughter. I then wrote a note to my daughter, who I needed to tell that I was ready to let her go and be the most amazing woman without me holding her back and worst, expecting her life to go in any sort of direction. The beauty of growth and raising both my kids as a teen mom is that they have been through alllll my mess and see me as fallible yet don’t hold my low points against me. She was asleep as I was texting her so I carried on and with one foot in front of the other, tried to clear my mind for other emotional pivots. As if I was being punked, I reach the last stop light before heading to the wooded/vineyard section of the first quarter of my day and there it laid. Another dead bird, this time I looked around and noticed another member of our group was coming up behind me and I asked her if she saw it too. It was the exact same type of bird and I honestly was so freaked out and started to ask outloud, “what does this mean?! This is weird now, am I a bird killer?!” She confirmed the sighting and I started speed walking away from the second crime scene and googling, “what does finding a dead bird mean spiritually?” since the Camino is actively delivering me messages as I ask for them. See crime scene & screenshot below:

I stopped walking and again, cue the waterworks! ughhh, I think so myself, Do these fucking things run out eventually? Sometimes even I get sick of my own shit. I choose at that moment to accept the second half of this meaning, “potential for change, transformation, and rebirth”. The thing about human journeys is that the one thing no one can take from us is Free Will, we CHOOSE half of the shit we put ourselves through. The pain, joy, sadness are agreements internally that it is the way we want to feel at the moment, * in my opinion*.

The day starts warming up as I realize that the kilo of cherries I had every intention of sharing is almost completely gone and I have had one brief conversation with Manolo, an elderly man whom shared my love for Gaudi, then swiftly sent me, “on my way”. Literally, he said, “now go, don’t walk slow for me”. So there I went, if you notice on the map above, the elevation seeeeeems steady. The elevation gain and loss flexes very fast between 10- 20 meters, something like climbing up or down 15-20 stories within that section. My feet are dying, the gravel is loose as I reach the vineyards, the sun is now beaming hard against my body. I try to cover my face and arms as best as possible, as the same thing that gives us life, also wants to kill us daily (spoiler alert: the sun). I reach vineyard after vineyard, cherry tree after cherry tree. I flex between cursing the lack of trees to shelter me from the sun to standing in awe of the rolling hills of vineyards.

As I reach the town of Cacabelos I slow down a bit, coming up to a bridge where I see two old men staring into the river below and pointing. A part of my heart ached in that moment, I saw my father. I took pictures when they weren’t looking and as I got closer I made a joke and told them, “sí brincan, yo brinco” (if you jump, I jump). Giving myself a moment to slow down, I let one of the men explain to me the trout path and then he tells me that he was walking to the church and that he would walk with me, I love the company and find myself choking back tears as I see every wrinkle in his face and hands. Thinking of the time I lost with my dad. The conversations and walks that I will never have with him. For that short walk I stop feeling the pain in my toes.

As I leave Vito and I start on a new hill, a new parcel of vineyards I feel like someone is squeezing my heart while taking a hammer to each of my toes. Though it’s as if I get Camino amnesia each and every time I stop and look up and around. Like the days before I stop and talk to my dad and tell him that I hope he loves what we’re seeing. I was there for me but for him too. Hill after hill I start giving into the hope of the bird definition. I feel less hopeless today, less anger and more of a wishing I could share this with someone I love. The day keeps getting hotter as I approach the most beautiful view so far, with a single white house on a hill. It looked like the house in the vision test, when they blow air into your eye to measure the pressure. Then I see a marker that reads Villafranca 3.3 km and I laugh cry, my feet haven’t felt this much pain in my entire life. The 70 degree up and 70 degree down angle had my feet slipping in my shoe and from knowing toe trauma from other sport injuries I knew I was going to pay. Walking into town I am met with a giant church that is under construction. The marker outside reads, the door of forgiveness, more tears. Forgiving and releasing is a daily homework assignment. I am not a problem to solve, I am not broken, I am a miracle waiting to be explored.

Dragging my feet into town I realize that I can’t actually get into my apartment because the street to it is closed for construction. I pivot to a convent turned hostel and drag my tired soul up the church stairs, through the convent doors next door and ask if they have a room available. They do, caveat? it’s four flights of stairs up and I have to literally tell myself to lift my legs onto the steps. Knowing the impending surgery that I have to do on my toes I wait until after dinner to remove my socks and shoes. Once back into the room I look down as I remove my sock and notice my toe nails on three toes are lifted at an angle that makes them look like they are ripped off and feel like they are on fire at the touch. I keep the panic to myself as best as I can, then set my tape, bandaid, matches to sterilize the needle to pop the blisters I will no doubt find on the bed and quickly shower. Before that I and my roommate for the night limp to the laundry room to get a load in before turning in for the night. I walk out of the room before her, then see it. The “IT” is a large gold, safety pin. The shiniest gold pin camouflaged on a tan tile. Stopping in my tracks and turning to see my friend to again look for affirmation and we are both left in disbelief, its easy to dismiss this as a random finding, but not on the camino, definitely not on my camino. Once back in the room I clean my feet and realize I have giant blisters filled with fluid under both big toes and my index toe on left foot. draining them felt like I cut my toe off, as I had to put pressure to drain completely. The more I squeezed, the more relief I felt (afterwards). I drenched every open wound in Neosporin (the MVP of the whole trip so far) and taped each toe as they all needed some sort of triage. After re-packing my pack with the clean laundry, I prayed for my feet to feel well enough to wake up and walk tomorrow and I thanked my guides, dad, deities for walking with me through the day. Tomorrow we go onto the Galicia region of Spain.

Love, forgive, release (yourself). Growing is the assignment. Hasta pronto.

xx-Clau