Whispers from the Camino—Day 26

September 30.    Astorga to Rabanal del Camino.   20 km

Leaving Astorga before sunrise

I woke up feeling more positive than I had for most of the trip. Much of it was due to making a connection with Ramona, I was sure. But I had also made it a practice of leaving early in the morning before sunrise and once again I was looking forward to that early morning time with my headlamp and the stars guiding me. I also knew that after nearly ten days in the Meseta, where the landscape was largely flat that I was reentering a mountainous region—nothing like the Pyrenees of the first couple of days, but low lying mountains, nonetheless.

The lights of a chapel greeting us under the light of the moon.

I remembered having a similar experience after crossing the Nevada desert by bike in 2011. I had already climbed about a dozen major passes in the seven weeks up to that point, including the 12,183 foot Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. As I came out of the desert, I was going to have to tackle one more pass, Kit Carson Pass, on the border of Nevada and California. It would require a 4,000-foot climb. As I neared the bottom of the pass, I noticed that even though I had to gear up for the climb, my body relaxed. I was born in Bozeman, Montana and raised in Colorado. My body and soul feels most at home when I am in the mountains. The irony of facing a significant climb and feeling like I could finally relax was not lost on me. I feel very much at home in the mountains.

The prayer that greeted us in the chapel.

I was the having the same experience leaving Astorga. I was leaving the long-flat expanse of the Meseta and entering a more mountainous region again. I was starting to feel at home again which had been a theme of this pilgrimage at so many levels including my sense of calling, professional service, relationships and place.

Not long into the walk I felt a sudden surge in my body—like a wave of anxiety and excitement all at once. I am not sure why it suddenly showed up, but the memory of a conversation came back to me.  A few months prior I was meeting with an organizational coach and he asked me, “Do you know anything about the MacArthur Fellowship?” I told him I had heard of it and asked him if that was the same as the “genius fellowship.” He confirmed it was.

One of many makeshift memorials along the Camino.

Then he asked me what I would do if I received the $800.000 no-strings-attached award given over a five-year period. I was stunned by the question and stammered out something about taking care of some debt and then taking advantage of the gift so that I could fully dedicate myself to my vision of repurposing churches as hostels in America. I tossed in that I imagined I would likely hjre an administrative assistant to handle all of the office stuff that drives me crazy.

That was the end of the conversation and it never came up again in the few meetings we had that summer. For some reason the conversation re-asserted itself as I was leaving Astorga. Quite honestly, it jarred me. I wondered to myself, “is this what this whole thing is about? I have put myself out there with a vision with no planned resources with the intention of trusting that the Universe will give me whatever answer and/or resources that I need. I went to the MacArthur Fellowship website and discovered that “The Fellows Program (proactively works) to foster and enable innovative, imaginative and ground-breaking ideas, thinking and strategies.” Whether I was qualified or not, the language certainly felt like it fit me.

Getting back into the hills

I checked to see when the 2023 fellows would be announced and discovered it was in the next few days. It wasn’t that I was expecting an award or even a nomination, but the sudden memory of the conversation from months before about what I might do with the $800,000 award with the fact that I was literally out in the field doing imaginative, innovative work made me wonder if I was in for a big surprise. Quite honestly, it excited me and scared me.

I knew I couldn’t make the award happen nor could I rush whatever timing was planned for an announcement. But even the thought of it put me in a really good place. Whether it was a MacArthur Fellowship or a grant or corporate sponsorship or nothing at all, it reminded me that I could trust that I was on the right path. No matter where this Camino took me or the two weeks of research on pilgrimage routes in England that was to follow, I was just where I needed to be and doing what I needed to do. The Universe would honor that one way or another.

Tea, biscuits, stories and connection on the lawn.

I arrived in Rabanal del Camino late in the morning after another pre-dawn start. I wanted to stay at the Refugio Guacelmo albergue that was known for its more traditional form of Camino hospitality. Run by volunteers who show up for one or two week stints from around the world, they don’t actually charge a fee, but expect a donation. I was one of the first there and four or five of us chatted outside the doors until they opened.

The day was magical. Late in the afternoon the hosts invited us all into the grassy backyard under a canopy for tea and biscuits. There we individually shared our names and spoke about the reasons for our pilgrimages and what we had discovered about ourselves in the first 500 km.

The chapel—in the presence of the holy.

That evening many of us attended the pilgrim mass in the local Catholic Church. It was dark and sacred. I didn’t understand everything that was said, but everything in my body told me that what we were experiencing was holy. Was this church different than all the others from my previous nights or was I different?

I didn’t know, but I did know that I was in the presence of a spirit that resonated deep within my soul.