14: Letters to a Camino Soulmate

These are the emails Marieke and I wrote to each other after she was gone. They might give you a better picture of my Camino experience. Writing to her was always a highlight. Sorry for the grammar. I wrote every letter on my phone.

September 21, 2017

I just realized I did not give you my email. Safe travels! Thank you for everything.

–Phil

September 23, 2017

Yesterday, as I walked away from Burgos, it hit me: you are gone.

When I had reached my destination, I went to the church and sat in silence for awhile – I even prayed! My mind ran through all of our moments and memories, like a broken record player… I was drowning under the weight of an emotional tsunami.

Then I climbed a hill until the people were nothing more than ants. I stayed for awhile, gazing at the sky and clouds, trying to make sense of my emotions, trying to fill the maw your absence had left. Thoughts came and went, feelings mixed and churned. Time moved at the pace of a snail.

Then an odd thing happened: I began talking to myself. It was like the unconscious part of me had finally connected the dots; I started to laugh at myself and began shouting at the sky until I reached this profound state of peace, of liberation. There was nothing left but clarity and stillness. I felt free, weightless.

I wrote that bus note believing I had already accepted the fact that you were leaving. Yet, it was only when I admitted to myself that I missed you did I find some semblance of tranquility.

I watched the sunset. It hid behind a thicket of clouds and colored the sky a deep and dark red. I smiled because it felt like the universe had given me peace. It knew I was ready to let go. The crimson sky faded into night. Symbolic right? Red is your favorite color.

Now, there are no sad or lonely feelings. And it’s not because I don’t miss you anymore, rather, I am filled with gratitude each time my mind replays a memory. I look forward to the day that we cross paths again. I know it’s not the last time.

-Phil

September 25, 2017

Dearest, dearest Phil!

I am so sorry for giving you a sign of life only now… When I took place on the bus, I felt a hole in my heart that was so big that I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t write. It was just too painful. I missed you in everything, I could hear you laughter and your jokes in everything, even though you were not here I would hear your interesting questions and opinions continuously in my mind. I can still see you ahead of me, with the orange water bottle swinging in your hand…

Here in Belgium life continues, the beginning of the semester is extremely busy. Most people take little interest in the fact that I lived for three weeks on the Camino and barely know what it means. My friends do their utmost best to listen, but they were not there with you; they cannot understand. I feel like I would need more time to contemplate and maybe have some mourning process too, but life allows me only some stolen moments. When I walk through my garden and I look up, I can see the same stars as you, I see sunlight playing a color game with the leaves of the trees just as they existed in Spain, I hear the same birds as you. They are like calls from a faraway universe. I hear you in them… The pain of missing you is getting better day by day. It is the grace of life: everything changes, everything flows, the good and the bad. What doesn’t wear off, is that I feel incredibly close to you. The initial hole in my heart is now filled with your warm presence, you are with me all day and I know that you are one of these people I will be carrying forever.

I know that your experience on that mountain was probably very similar to mine. There are no words to explain the perfect beauty and mercy of such a moment… We cannot create them alone, they are partly also given to us by something greater than us. You cannot explain, but simply know that something in you has thoroughly changed. I came very close to crying again, when I read about your experience, I was immensely grateful that your listening to Camino had led you also to such an experience. Your writing about it was so beautiful that I actually printed it and hung it on my wall…

I start to see more and more why I had to return to Belgium. I think it had something to do partly with finding a real and human balance in my life, but there is more. It is not very correct to say that I just left Belgium for Camino. Rather, I fled from it. I had been facing repeating patterns in relationships for years, and had just entered a next one that was actually very harmful to me but I lacked the strength to end it. This Camino, and especially you and my mountain experience, have given me true love to myself. I cannot longer do things that are harmful to me… I feel so, so strong now… I now want to learn to feel love, I want to learn to love others. I feel that many things in me have ripened during Camino, up to a level where they can start to give fruits. I notice that there is more life in the bonds I have with other people. It gives me hope, for I have feared for so long that I was a mistake of nature – born without feelings. The only relation that is still really fucked up, is the one with my parents. Emotionally, I feel a thousand miles away from them, and it only gets worse. They have no time for me, I am too proud by now to run after them, the result is that we barely know each other anymore. It hurts me a lot. It feels like they care very little for me…

I know this is probably a strange mail to you, more some concatenation of random topics.. Writing is not my strength, and I lack the patience to reread what I wrote. Sorry! :)

Please, tell me more about how things are going on Camino.. if you talk about it, it feels to me almost as if I were also there.. What is Camino sending you at the moment? Who are the people you meet? Are you walking the Meseta, do you like it? And.. what was your miracle today?

I send you an incredibly warm hug, and all the love that I can!

-Marieke

September 26, 2017

My heart totally skipped a beat when I saw your message in my inbox. I’m really happy to hear from you. I enjoyed your concatenation of thoughts! It was sporadic and spontaneous. Keep writing from your heart.

The day I left Burgos, I met a Korean Catholic Priest near the edge of the city. There was a warm presence about him, something friendly and inviting, like a hot cup of tea. He strolled up to me and we started talking about religion, our families, and why we were walking the Camino. Then he asked a very interesting question: what are the most important things in your life? And for some reason, I had no immediate answer. I felt a bit guilty. He responded, “Ah, see you’re not like most people. They usually say something right away: friends, family, work. But you didn’t. Why?” I wasn’t sure why. He then said that it was ok not to know, and better to continue asking Why. Why is family important? Why this.. and that… we left the question unanswered. Again, he asked why I was here. I told him I was looking for direction… for purpose. He replied Why?

He finally gave an answer after I gave some more inconclusive replies: “it’s simple, ask why and follow the answer your heart gives. You have a good heart. Listen to it. It knows. It’s ok to keep asking too and not get an answer. Ask why.” He then asked to take a selfie with me, and he walked away.

Now, I find myself asking Why as I consider all of the things I’ve ever wanted to be: artist, journalist, radio host, writer, English teacher, university professor, counselor, therapist, physical therapist, psychiatrist, lifestyle designer, coach, school psychologist… these sorts of roles are deeply human-centric… I seem to require intimate human connection in my work. I can see myself as a healer of sorts, as someone who walks / guides people through life. I’m still asking Why.

This past Sunday, I stopped in Carrion de los Condes at Albergue Santa Maria. It was like our first night in the donativo. The other pilgrims and I sat in a large rectangular formation and shared our names and motivations for walking the Camino. The stories were moving. A Korean woman diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease had decided to walk the Camino to fight against it, to prove to everyone around her that she would not let the disease consume her life. Her hand was trembling as she used her phone to translate her message into English and Spanish. I was on the verge of tears.

Others walked for self-redemption, for answers to life’s biggest questions, for love. I shared with them that I came in search of direction, but that I have received so much more – myself, my voice, my heart, joy, sadness, gratitude… and of course, I mentioned how I met you, Matilde, and Franca, all over a cup of tea… I don’t know if there’s a better story than ours. Anyways, amid the words being lost in translation, the universal language of music beckoned. The nuns started playing songs on the guitar, and we sang! Like a choir, we sang a Spanish rendition of Hallelujah… and then the nuns sang a Japanese song for one of the Japanese pilgrims… what a beautiful language! These nuns were not your ordinary nuns. I slept with a smile that night.

I’ve been walking with an older woman from Columbia. Her English isn’t the best, but she understands what I’m saying, for the most part… maybe she’s being nice and only laughs at my own jokes because I laugh at them. I almost told her your squirrel joke, but I forgot some of it. Sorry.

Oh! Yesterday, I met a really cool French girl. We made some small talk and I walked her to the end of the village. I had a feeling I would see her again. And sure enough, today, while I was unpacking, I saw her enter my albergue – she ended up in the same room as me! We were talking about books, and I asked if she had any in English. She said one… guess which? THE POWER OF NOW. The only book you were carrying, she happened to be carrying too. Crazy, right?

Anyways, tomorrow morning… at 4 AM…. I’m walking with her and her friend, Morgan, to catch some shooting stars. Not sure what I’m getting myself into, but this is the opportunity that has presented itself, so I will take it and adventure on.

The meseta stretches far, but it is beautiful. One day, I walked 17km straight. There were no places to stop for a break. It was brutal, but the sunrise was nice, as was the landscape. Many would say the meseta is a bland belt of dust and wheat, but there is so much life in the trees, air, and grass. It’s also much easier to notice a change of color when the fields are all a singular shade of gold! No blackberries though, sadly.

Missing that squirrelly girl obsessed with blackberries. I think she gave me some of her magic though. I had the “Best Coffee Ever” yesterday, so smooth and creamy, I could taste the love.

I have so much more to say, but it’s getting late and I’ll be up at 4:00am. I wish I could just teleport to you, with a cup of your favorite coffee in my hand and share everything in my head. There’s so so much.

You’re not a mistake of nature. And you’re more than capable of loving. I’ve felt it. We’re all screwed up in our own way… maybe we just need to find the people who love us anyways. I don’t know what to say about you and your parents… That isn’t an easy thing to live with. You feel it so much more than any words can describe, or that anyone can truly relate to to be helpful. All I can offer is a listening ear and an open heart.

There’s so much more to say, but not enough time. I know you know of the Camino struggles. Anyways, from the wholeness of my heart, sleep well, dream on.

–Phil

September 27, 2017

Today I walked 38km… I am in Leon with the sorest of feet, but the biggest of smiles.

I imagine you buried beneath a mound of books, bones, and cadavers. Make sure to see the light of day. Don’t forget to do you, to maintain balance, to make your art! Busyness is the enemy of time.

It’s strange, there are moments when I feel that you are still walking and talking to me. You tell me to slow down, to enjoy the little things (because they’re actually the big things), to relish the company of nature. I miss enjoying these things with you.

I think I will sleep well tonight. This was one of my toughest yet most rewarding days, full of many wonderful blessings, people, and lessons. I’m dozing off now, twilight calls, that eternal place of peaceful nothingness. Each day still feels so fresh and new. I am always pleasantly surprised.

-Phil

October 1, 2017

Galicia is beautiful. I feel so at home and energized being surrounded by the green vegetation and high mountains. Wish you could feel the cool, mountainous air.

A miracle: after 2 days of hip, ankle, and achilles pain, the Camino seems to have given me new legs. As I was walking, the pain suddenly disappeared. I was freaking out and telling everyone around me what had happened. They said I should be grateful, and I was.

Random note: I’ve memorized Wild Geese. It was on a day when I was feeling a bit blue, melancholy and lonely. It’s strange, even though I feel this deep love for myself and life, loneliness and sadness seem to always be accompanying me, like shadows. I suppose that means I’m human. But I know the feelings will pass, like the rush of a cool summer breeze. Anyways, during one of my breaks, I sat and read Wild Geese at least 5 times, until I memorized it. Now each and every time I recite it, I feel so much joy… this line always brings me to tears: “whoever you are, no matter how lonely / the world offers itself to your imagination, / calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things.” It makes me feel at peace,connected with the universe.

A few days ago, I sent some pictures to my parents. Their immediate response was: why aren’t you in the pictures? To which I replied Because I don’t want to be, it’s a personal reason related to why I am on the Camino. They then said How do we know these are yours then… reading that made me furious. Did they not trust me? Did they still see me as a helpless child, unable to make his own decisions, unable to have his own feelings and beliefs? I felt disconnected and misunderstood. Conceptually, I understood their response – they’re parents. But emotionally, I lost control.

At that moment, I didn’t love them. And then I hated myself for feeling that. I shouldn’t have. Sometimes, we just lose control and say and think things we don’t mean. Still, I turned my phone off and walked around Astorga to clear my head. Then I ran into two of my friends. They helped me to process and make peace with the situation. Sadly, one of them is leaving soon. I felt a true kinship with him because he was so interested in life. He showed me the value of simply listening and watching. A true photographer.

Final bit of update: so… I refunded my flight to Amsterdam from Paris. Guess where I’m heading instead? I just ask that you be home October 14th… I really wanted to surprise you, but I know you said to tell you in advance if I were to visit… that’s not to say that I’m visiting, but maybe I’ll be in the area on that day… possibly…

Ok. Assuming you’re still buried under a bag of bodies and books, I’ll bring a shovel.

I’ve become addicted to Spanish milk. It is my lifeblood. I think it contributed to my newfound legs.

As Santiago nears, I feel a plethora of emotions, and some sense of expectation. I guess it’s hard not to have expectations since everyone is talking about how beautiful and amazing it is. Still, I’m trying to take it day by day. Each day is so special and full of life. I will let Santiago come when it comes.

–Phil

October 2, 2017

I’m trying for a few days now to find some time to write back decently (and no, not because I’m buried in books :p), but this cannot wait: I’M SO VERY EXCITED THAT YOU COME! :)

Just tell me, which days exactly will you be in Belgium? I’ll provide your fifteen star hotel, of course! :D

–Marieke

October 3, 2017

No rush to reply! And 15 out of 100? I expected more from Belgium ;) I will be there Oct. 14-15, and leave to Prague the night of the 15th.

-Phil

October 6, 2017

Well, it seems that I am closing the distance between me and Santiago. With less than 55 km to go, I will be there on Sunday, probably around noon. I’m trying my damndest not to count the kilometers, to focus on the present moment, but it’s difficult! I need to keep my head in the game and to remember to actually taste my coffee…

The past week or so (really, since Burgos), I’ve walked alone, which leaves room for the free flow of my thoughts. They come and go in all shapes and forms, some really random, others more anxious and fearful. But they are just that, thoughts. They are not me. I know this because my mood instantly shifts the moment I notice the sound of my footsteps against the stones, the chirping of the birds, the rustling of leaves.

I’ve been having these second winds on my walk, sudden bursts of energy that drive me forward with the force of a raging river. I feel free and limitless in this state… I stop noticing thoughts, I feel outside of my body, I am attuned to my surroundings… I am high on life.

Been wondering if what the Camino has given me is the gift of solitude. Because only in solitude do you hear the sound of your own voice. Then it’s a matter of knowing which sound is your mind, and which is your heart. As of late, it’s becoming easier to hear the latter, “This is your heart / can you feel it, / can you feel it?” (Bastille - Laura Palmer). To clearly hear my own voice, that was one of my intentions for coming to the Camino. I miss you, Franca, Matilde, and S; I miss having wonderful people like you guys to share these experiences with. Yet there is another kind of solitary joy that I’ve been experiencing every day. I find it sometimes in the darkest of corners, right when I need it most, and I end up smiling and laughing wildly at myself, at something I wrote in my journal, at something I drew or something that happened during the day. (I passed two people and yelled, “Woo! Another day on the Way!” They loved it.). In reflection of moments like these, I know the Camino is asking me to reach Santiago alone.

I feel so strong. I have an insatiable desire to learn, to taste, to live, to start the next part of my life journey.

Anyways, I think this will be my last update until I see you. I’m wicked excited to see that smile and to hear more squirrel jokes. By the way, I’ve been listening to Leonard Cohen, and I think Suzanne is my current favorite. Check out the acoustic version of “The Woods” by Hollow Coves. Best listened to under a tree, illuminated by starlight. See you soon.

–Phil

October 7, 2017

I’m not so good at writing and I don’t enjoy it as much as you do, which is probably one of the reasons why I postpone writing back everyday. But every e-mail of you manages to bring me to this very thin border between laughing and crying out of pure joy and gratitude. Gratitude that you have become so immensely strong and radiantly beautiful that I can feel it all the 2300km to Leuven… You are vibrant with life, you are so pure, I just can’t wait to see you. I am counting the days, I am telling everyone that I meet that you will be coming next week, and it’s one of the reasons that make me randomly smile during the day. Actually I just came upstairs to my room after cooking with my friends and sitting with them for a while… they were telling me that I definitely changed after Camino. That I’m more playful and energetic, that I enjoy even more to make stupid jokes and that I look (alas) even younger.

And still, there is some fear in me that you’ll be disappointed when you see me back… Time on the camino has made you grow, I wish so much I could have made this journey too that it physically hurts me. Instead, real life continued for me – and even though I’m living life in a much more balanced way than I ever did, I am stagnating in growth… I still wonder whether medicine is right for me, if it cannot allow me to grow further. Right now my plan is to finish my year, walk the Camino again and then decide. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one awake in this world, the medical world. I see so many sleeping people and I would like to wake them all, but they just don’t listen, they only think I’m weird :) Which, to me, is a complement of course!

Thank you for writing to me, Phil, even when I don’t answer… you have no idea how much I enjoy every word of your beautiful writing. You have such a talent… When you come here, I’ll show you that I put some of your writing at the door of my room, to be able to read it every day :) Everything you write is so true, it comes right from your heart, and my heart recognizes ancient truth and pure joy in it, which is a lovely warm feeling.

I love it that you discovered Cohen! He’s a real poet, someone who understood life. You’ll discover that at any time of your life, there’s always a song of his that guides you through. Thank you for the song! It went right to my playlist ;) Here’s a spanish poem to you:

• Caminante no hay Camino
• Caminante, son tus huellas
• el camino y nada más;
• Caminante, no hay camino,
• se hace camino al andar.
• Al andar se hace el camino,
• y al volver la vista atrás
• se ve la senda que nunca
• se ha de volver a pisar.
• Caminante no hay camino
• sino estelas en la mar.
•  
• Wayfarer, there is no path
• Wayfarer, the only way
• Is your footprints and no other.
• Wayfarer, there is no way.
• Make your way by going farther.
• By going farther, make your way
• Till looking back at where you’ve wandered,
• You look back on that path you may
• Not set foot on from now onward.
• Wayfarer, there is no way;
• Only wake-trails on the waters.

I send you a big hug, and cannot wait to make it a real one…

–Marieke