A few months ago, a fellow pilgrim was talking with her spiritual director who said that on the way to Santiago you cross seven mountains. As you do, he suggested, you must leave something behind, let something go. Today, unbeknownst to me at the start, we crossed a mountain.

Early in the morning I was alone on a grassy hillside stretch, still ruminating on a dream I had two nights ago. In the dream I was driving in a car with Frederick, and I reached over, squeezed his hand, and told him that I love him. I woke in the morning missing him, and this particular morning I was day dreaming what it would be like to be with him again.  The thought came to me that I have still not let this relationship go.

I know the reasons, all good ones, why the relationship ended. But I still carry in me the nagging feeling that I made one great mistake in not making things work. And I hold open this fantasy that we might be together again as a way of keeping at bay the feeling of failure.

So as we approached the mountain, its long, slow ascent winding upward in the distance, I picked up a small stone. I would carry it up the mountain as a symbol of something I should let go, and at the top I would place it on a pile of standing stones.  Over time pilgrims have left rocks in piles at the tops of mountains (and along the camino). Today I would leave my own in hope and prayer that I may leave some excess baggage behind.  I wondered what mine would be.

Of course, the first thing that came to mind was this dream, relationship, and feeling of failure. So as I picked up my pebble, I prayed that I might have strength to let this relationship go. But as I made my first steps, I realized that what I was being called to leave was much larger than a relationship; I was being invited to let go of the nagging, persistent sense that I am myself a failure.  Call it natural human insecurity or my own unique demon, but the ongoing sense of failure or impending failure is great.

I charged ahead up the ascent, each step more invigorating than the next. I felt strong and secure, knowing that I had an opportunity to let go of a weight too large to carry further. I passed people, a rare feat for me the snail pilgrim, and I was excited to place my stone at the top.  I even had a sense of peace that I might have the strength to let go.

As I reached the summit, I raced to the highest pile of stones I could find. There I placed my small stone and said a short prayer. I asked for the grace to let go. I don´t think all is solved, but the physical act was meaningful.

The spiritual teacher of my pilgrim friend also noted that on the camino we are journeying toward the west, a symbol of death since the ancient and medieval world thought the western tip of Spain was literally the end of the world. So this walk on the camino is a chance to walk into our death. I think of it as a way to die to the things that hold me back from true life. Each time I let go or leave something behind, I am dying to what binds or hinders me, a theme coming from Jesus and Christian teaching no doubt.

So today I crossed a mountain.  And at the top, by grace, I laid a small pebble tombstone that marks the beginning of a triumphant death.