I spent the first half of today’s walk trying to figure out if I felt something different, having walked all this way and seen so many beautiful places.
I woke feeling burdened, being behind on my writing.
Last night, I had planned to write but instead I had dinner with Akash and a young German couple interested in her studies with Osho. They had brought a bunch of food with them from Germany and needed to drop some of the weight, and so offered to share it with us. It was the best pasta I’d ever had.
Then I sat on a big rock with Ty, a former Marine from Riverside who everyday wears a shirt that reads “IDAHO” in big letters. He’s always complaining about being sore. “Wait til you turn 25,” he says.
We watched the sun set behind the rolling hills while cowbells rang and rang. We wondered if the cows minded the noise.
All the time we sat there, I thought I should have been doing something else; I should have been writing, or returning emails, or sleeping. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t be present.
So as we walked today, I turned over thoughts of all I wanted to change about myself and felt tinges of frustration because the process is so stretched. It’s like watching for daylight to come; you can never tell just what the sky’s colors are doing from moment to moment. The changes come so gradually, imperceptibly. Then it happens, the sky lights up and you can’t be sure of when it happened.
It’s only the fourth day, but it feels like I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t on this trail. The beginning and the end of El Camino are lost in space and time.
The day was full of lethargy and exhaustion. We made it to the hostel at 8pm and found it to be more like a hotel. We got sheets and blankets, towels and soap, and our own room. Everyone left us alone.
All we needed after today was good rest, and we got it.