About now, in these few days before the full moon in May, is when I planned to arrive in Finisterre… I visioned stretching out on the cliffs there, with my feet towards the ocean. With a surrender to and a clear direction of: What is next on my path? My life? What is my service?
I am not at Finisterre…. Not even close. Later today… I will be stretched out in a very different kind of surrender when I have surgery on my left knee for a torn meniscus. Taking a nap and allowing others to have full control over the body, even to breathe for me, evokes a strange bit of confidence. Yet, I do have confidence in western medicine’s excellent ability to ‘fix’ broken parts of structure. Broken other ‘parts’, no so much, but I digress…
Tomorrow, I will begin my Journey of healing and rehabilitation in which I will apply all of the wisdom of Integrative Healing. While finding the meniscus tear, the MRI’s and X-rays showed that the overall health and function of my knee is excellent! Good news since someday, I will return to the place I stopped walking The Camino and continue on to The Sea.
When I planned walking The Camino, I set an intent for my inner Journey. It was to be a profound personal Journey and because it is what I do… I would transform the personal into the next expression of my professional work. To create a way to assist others.
And Now… (Of course). I recognize that on a much different path… Exactly that has occurred.
In the last many years I have explored and worked with grief and loss or what I call ‘Passionate Sadness’ and integrating the wounds of a lifetime or what I call ‘Shadow Dancing’. Yet even in just the last 6 months, for me personally, another ‘grief’ has emerged. The need to look at, understand and ultimately integrate the ‘unfinished business’ of life. The roads never taken or completed… The precious dreams lost. I call them ‘Ghost Bridges’. The abandoned bridges to a desired destination.
Walking The Camino the presence of Mary, The Divine Feminine, strongly emerged all around me. She is everywhere in Spain, wearing many different guises. My experiences, chance meetings and even dreams were full of information and Mary’s gentle and at times not so gentle voice. She finally said:
Stop moving. Stop running. Go. Home.