Thoughts on Surrender, The Deep End and Angels to the Rescue – Part 1

The dream, the inkling, the itch, to walk El Camino de Santiago has been persistently present for close to 25 years. Paused for all the pleasures and joys that came of wifedom (that’s wisdom that comes with soulful partnership), motherhood and launching the divine elements of entrepreneurship, the Calling patiently silenced itself… for a time.

With the shift of babies to teenage-hood, a hubby and biz-savvy-soul launched, what’s a girl (okay half-century old, ever-young-at-heart girl) to do.

Soar.

And the wings that had been her life’s directive and inspiration (those 3 extraordinary men in my life), told me to fly.

So I did.

People asked me, ask me, on The Way, “What’s your focus, purpose, for this trek?”

My answer has been and continues to be, “Well …. This is my Surrender Adventure … it’s less about what will come of it, and more about what will BE of it, and my intention and ability to listen deeply, and align my actions with the callings that come.”

I had simply no idea what universal law of opposites I was opening the door to.

But alas, with every challenge and ability to rise to the occasion to justly Surrender and Flow, came the angels and lessons that will forever and deeply enrich my life as a result.

But mannn, was I thrown directly in to the deep end.

When I was a girl, that’s how my dad ‘taught’ me to swim. Tossed me right off the end of the dock at our beloved Gable Glen farm where I grew up. He threw and knew, I’d sort it.

God’s like that.

And swim I have.

And when your arms, legs, (or back, in my case) fail you, there are always the angels that somehow know just who needs them and sort out the details, with compassion, accordingly.

The Way of all this, has been like that.

So, deep breath, ready for the lowdown?

Here goes, from the start to now. The challenge – the surrender – the angel’s arrival and ‘sorting’ and finally the ‘Ah-ha’ that has me smiling:

•  The first cold in 2 years the day before I’m leaving for a European dream. Thought I’d licked what the kid’s had, as I usually do. No such luck. Chilly, sniffling, the Delta attendant takes pity and loves and helps me figure out the ins and outs of my destination in Paris. We have a soulful connect and she beams as I tell her how precious she is. We have a soul sister connect. I can’t believe this one even makes the list with the others to come but it was the kick off, of having to adjust to the deep-bone-chill of Spain, where central heating is an enigma, dryers for clothes don’t exist and they live in perpetual anticipation of the heat that will swelter. When you’ve come at an unprecedented chilly time … well, thank God I brought hats and mitts. They served for sleeping too. And when Minerva gave me a little heater for my beautiful ocean-view room, I was in over-the-top heaven. But back to the chill for a moment … In gay Paris en route to Malaga and the Spanish dream.
• In Paris I walked into a security line that I swear could be accommodated in the two hours I had. And then… all the staff left for break and 100+ of us stood in awe and wonder as to how exactly we were going to catch those connector flights. But alas, the French are not fussed and keep saying, “No problem” pointing to where to join the ever-growing line. After getting through, with 10 mins to spare, sprinting and joining the leagues of people who’ve now missed and need to be redirected, a man sets me straight … “When the Parisians say, “No problem,” they mean, “Not MY problem.” Ahhhh-ha-hem moment! And then we line up for the redirect. These Air France ‘helpers’ are equally unaffected by our plight. In fact with 15 people in line, 2 staff hit the break room, leaving one to fend off the angered crowds. When I shake my head, one of them turns to the remaining staffer, looks at me and tells her not to accommodate me. Wowza. Not sure that French learning in school was a blessing in that moment. In North America you be fired baby. But when in Paris … you need an Angel. And in he walked, calm, compassionate, efficient and got me on a flight to Malaga – 9 hours later. Time to tour the Eiffel Tower? Yes. But petrified of that security line, I stayed put and copped a squat on the floor to sleep. Just like a kid again. The final angel(s) on that expedition … my sweet soul sister Minerva and my Mama of years past, Carmen. I fell into their arms and love at the end of that long trip. Deep breaths of gratitude. And my awaiting retreat room that they’d prettied all-up was magnificent, but more of that in the First Impressions post. Back to the crazy call for angels.
• So we ass-u-me in North America that banks are efficient, money comes out when we call it from the magical street machine and money doesn’t go just ‘missing’ with no one accountable. Not so in Spain. So there I was, looking to get the most of the exchange rate, and for that, large amounts are best. Here goes, $700 Euros should do me the trip. Card in, pin entered, amount tapped, no money out, out spits card. But I assume just a wrong click, so I enter various smaller amounts until I finally give up. Then the call from Todd, that the reason no small amounts were coming out from my travel account is because the $1000 came OUT. Whaaaa? Well, you can imagine how crazy I felt. Did I actually not hear that wild ‘tick tick tick’ as the bills make their way from machine to hand? Long story short, I wasn’t cray-cray, apparently “it happens” the bank attendant tells me. Ohhh how we Canadians take our system for granted. The gift? The woman who eventually made it her mission to help the poor traveller live her Camino dream. She counted the bank machine money after hours and, although she finished work at 2:30, called to tell me the news at 7:00 … they had found no discrepancies and she was so deeply sorry to make the call with that news. Couple things learned … that my hubby is a gem who made it clear that this was not to ruin my trip, with worry. And after I’d done all I could in the 3 days and trips to the bank, I simply had to let it go, and I’d handled the ebbs and flows, although not without worry, but definitely with grace and love to the staff or middle-gals. I could sleep. And the moment I surrendered … back the money came, quite magically, into the account. But I was solid either way. There’s the gift, hey friends? Stable, sane, proud even, of the peace of your soul in the midst of life’s oh-so-typical whirl.
• So, while there have been many little challenges that call my attention (almost getting lost on the trail today and listening to the whisper to ‘check the map’, listening and correcting the path – whew), the big ‘umbrella’ challenge has been that I put my back out one day before I left for the El Camino walk, had to get on the train regardless (no refund) and so carried my 25 lb pack. And, well, was pooched by arrival in Sarria. Frustrating? You bet. Necessary? Yes, that too. I honest-to-God have learned to heal in record time … using every soulful, natural-healing technique I’ve been researching and exploring since my 20s. All bets off, I had to believe in miracles. When I had the stroke 5 years ago, I swear it’s because in my back pain, I lay down and gave in. This time, I moved, kilometres actually. With hours of Qigong, meditation and energy healing, stretching, listening to my body and what it needed, inside and out, believing divine energy-tapping can heal, and in 2 days I walked my first 22 km stint from Sarria to Portomarin, Spain. As I moved, I took energy from the trees and living, ancient, pulsing world around me and healed. This is where all we may believe is put to the test … and I am wildly grateful for learning a lesson to guide the next half century. And, well the insight was … take my time, heal between stints and its led to serendipitous meetings with kindred souls, and compassionate people like Cristina of my first Albergue Oasis (of course) in Sarria, being my guide in all things of rest, healing, kindness and a baggage transport city to city for $5. She was my initial saving grace and I am humbled by the comforts she offered, all the while saying with a blush, “It’s my job. Everyone along the Camino will care for you this way.”
  
  And she has been deLIGHTfully right.

There may be a part 2 to this, but surrender has been the key thus far to being able to listen when I need to hear, accepting the loving help of others, and knowing when to take action from centre with heart.

Oh the divine lessons of the Camino. Real life doesn’t happen in the bliss but the flurry and our call, despite all the signs to the contrary, is to … believe.

I welcome and allow it all, and the magic continues to be unveiled.

And these snaps, a glimpse of the starting line. My boys in their supportive farewell, a plane ride basking in old movies of Europe with my soul sis and bro, Audrey and Fred (perhaps softening me to the Paris experience yet to be), the kindreds who met me and the view to embrace me right from the first sunrise. All toward this hint of  perspective … light comes brilliant and spirit-shifting when first we reside in the shadow for a time.
Up up up and awayyyy.