Yesterday was picturesque. Today was a muddy slog. Yesterday was pastoral, bucolic, and tranquil. Today was busy, rainy, and frenetic. Yesterday I ached to think of the camino ending. Today I look forward to saying despedides to Santiago on my way to London on Monday.  I´m still enjoying the pilgrimage, even when the way bends around murky parts like today, but it´s funny how my experiences swing from highs to lows, just like the Spring weather.

Today in the albergue after walking a short 20k, I finished several days of looking back through my journal as a way to remind myself of all that has happened on the way, and as a way to prepare for the end -- so that I don´t forget all that has transpired on the journey as I rush headlong into celebrating the destination. Each signpost I pass in Galicia announces the number of kilometers to Santiago, and pilgrims keep scratching our heads at how small the numbers get, as if the rain is melting them away. Around the 20 kilometer mark, a Madrileno asked me (as part of an hour long conversation in Spanish I might add!) how long my pilgrimage was because he only started a few days back. 776 kilometers I said proudly.  776! And now it´s less than 20. How can the end be here already, and how can the gravity of arriving be encapsulated in a cathedral or a compostela?

After finishing the rereading of my journal, and after rehearsing all those epiphany and ennui moments, I was sad and excited.  I was sad with a kind of samsara sadness; samsara is sadness at the passing of beauty, appreciating and mourning the fleeting nature of all that is marvelous in life.  I was excited to think of all that has happened and will continue to happen to me, in me, that is beyond my awareness. In other words, I think the entirety of this pilgrimage will form me in ways that I can´t capture in a journal or even fully realize until time has passed and I sense a change within like the change without.  My feet and my body have been put to the camino and impressed by countless rocks, tracks, ascents, and downhill plunges, formed by the terrain in imperceptible ways until they take on a new shape.  The same is true with my mind and heart. At times I can´t even remember the name of the town I slept in the previous night, and much of the beautiful scenery fades from memory; yet something has shifted inside which is due to the many days of walking and praying.

In th end, I hope there are deep and lasting ways in which my soul has been impressed by rocks, ascents, and plunges both physical and otherwise.