A plane flies over, against a little patch of blue in an otherwise gray sky. Ohhhh, I breathe while watching. "That looks like freedom." I am instantly aware of my feet on the ground, and how heavy they feel. For as long as I can remember, I have had a desire to be off the earth, and in the sky. Always aware of the restriction of gravity, and being bound.
It's simply one of those days, you see. Where I feel a bit unsteady, untethered, looking for a touchstone, but not really knowing what that means, today.
I think of 2011, when I discovered the Camino de Santiago. I knew I had been called, and I knew one day I would make my pilgrimage. I keep thinking about that now, as I spend each day walking. Pushing myself to go farther, to take new routes. Experiencing my home on foot the way I normally don't. The way I do if I'm in another place, the way I do in NYC, but haven't here. I wonder to myself, "why?"
Perhaps, for now, this is my Camino. This is my pilgrimage. Perhaps this is the time I learn how to be grateful on foot.
I walk. I press on, beginning the pilgrimage to my restless heart.
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