The Camino Within: Being open to the unknown - Part 2 — The Camino Begins

I left Miami to live an experience that, at that moment, I had no idea how much it would come to mean to me. We flew to Madrid, Spain, spent one night there, and the next day took a train to Sarria, where we met the rest of the group. There were 17 of us.

When we arrived in Sarria, we discovered that our hotel was at the top of a hill, in the historic center of town. There was no other way to get there except by walking. So, we made our way up the hill with our suitcases and backpacks. Maybe the Camino was already giving us a little taste of what was to come.

That evening, we all had dinner together at a wonderful place. I was anxious and excited to finally experience my first day on the Camino. I didn’t sleep very well, a little because of the anticipation and a little because of the jet lag.

We woke up early, had breakfast, and then gathered together to say a psalm that the organizer had asked us to share before beginning.

Soon after, we started walking.

It was still dark.

The emotion was incredible. I felt so many things at the same time. Little by little, the sun began to rise, and as we walked, we slowly left the town of Sarria behind and made our way toward Portomarín.

Then, a feeling that I still don’t know how to explain filled my heart. It was a feeling of wholeness, along with an overwhelming desire to be in silence and simply feel everything that was happening inside me.

Before leaving, I had prepared a playlist of mantras, prayers, and songs that were meaningful to me. It was three and a half hours of uplifting sounds that I had personally chosen because they felt right for that moment.

At one point, I felt like putting on my headphones, listening to that playlist, and simply going into my own world.

I suddenly felt like crying from so much emotion.

I have always been very emotional, but there are many times when I hold back my tears. And there I was, doing it again , holding back my emotions, trying not to cry.

Until suddenly, I let go and said to myself:

“You are here for this. To feel. To cry without holding back. To release everything, all your emotions.”

And so, I allowed myself to feel.

I was there. Present. Feeling my own presence on the Camino, without worrying about what was happening at home or in the world at that moment.

Just as I had written in the letter to myself before leaving:

“On the Camino, the only thing I have to do is walk.”

And that was exactly what I was doing.

That first day, we walked for 6 hours and 25 minutes. Twenty-three kilometers, with very few stops—just to use the bathroom, have a little coffee, and sometimes eat something sweet or salty.

At certain moments, I realized that I was following my own pace, and I began to feel guilty.

A part of me wanted to look back, take care of everyone, and make sure they were okay. But then I would return to my purpose. I needed to allow myself to walk this Camino for myself, too.

I am always concerned about everyone, trying to make people happy and take care of them out of love and affection. But in that moment, I began to understand that following my own pace did not mean that I loved or cared about anyone any less.

There were also moments when I walked in silence. A beautiful silence, shared without the need for words. Just walking, being present, and feeling.

Throughout that first day, we passed through beautiful places. It was a mixture of fields, small villages, and forests. Everything seemed to be part of the experience and of that state of presence I was living.

After almost six hours of walking, the rain came.

Before leaving, I had checked the forecast and, of course, felt a little anxious about it. Once again, the Camino seemed to be showing me that I didn’t need to try to control everything.

And the rain was wonderful.

It didn’t bother me at all.

Well... I did control what I was wearing and which shoes I chose so I would be prepared for the rain. That kind of control, I have to admit, wasn’t so bad!

When we arrived at the hotel, we checked in, and I felt proud of myself. I had completed the first day and still felt strong. Of course I was tired, but physically, nothing was bothering me. At that moment, all I wanted was to eat and rest.

Little by little, everyone began arriving, sharing that same feeling of having completed our first day.

Later, I went to see my friend who had suffered the stroke and who had walked the Camino that day accompanied by the organizer.

And she was happy.

Happy that she, too, had been able to experience that first day of the Camino.

Something about seeing her that way began to touch something inside me.

This was the same friend who, just a few days earlier, had brought up so many fears and worries in me. And now I was looking at her, happy to be living her own experience.

That first day had come to an end. I had walked 23 kilometers, cried, felt, been in silence, walked through the rain, and begun to experience something I had asked for before I even left home:

to simply live my own Camino.