I think I need to carry a notebook about with me, as when I'm standing in church, I feel overwhelmed by some idea that assails me (my 'I've just had a good idea!'s) and hope that I'll remember it by the time I get home. Such as my idea for the cloth camino. And how the hymns all sound different after Santiago, but that's been going on all the time. Thus:
1 I hunger and I thirst:
Jesu, my manna be;
ye living water, burst
out of the rock for me.
This makes me think of the fuentes that we sometimes relied on to fill up our water bottles from, taps in all kind of places. These exist all along the camino, and there's no need to be nervous of them. If the water wasn't good from them, there was a sign telling you so, and their presence is indicated in some of the pilgrim guide books. An example of care taken by people reflecting the care of God for creation.
2 Thou bruised and broken Bread,
my life-long wants supply;
as living souls are fed,
O feed me, or I die.
Bruised and broken bread. Makes me think of the little bit of French bread we had with us at the start, battered and squashed, which went rather chewy, but when breakfast didn't appear until 5 miles into the walk, it was reassuring to have.When hungry, anything you have seems wonderful.
3 Thou true life-giving Vine,
let me thy sweetness prove;
renew my life with thine,
refresh my soul with love.
Vines. We were a bit early for ripe grapes, but it was lovely to be in a country which was said to be warm in the summer, and experience the anticipation of fruit in the not too distant. Food that 'just grows on trees' is so like the food of Eden that doesn't have to be worked for; but then we have to till the soil as well, and it's great if life provides some things free, and some things you work for; both a source of delight.
4 Rough paths my feet have trod
since their first course began:
feed me, thou Bread of God:
help me, thou Son of Man.
Umm, I can hardly not be reminded of foot trouble along the way. Not that the paths were very rough - mostly they weren't - but they were long. The promise of a meal at the end of the day kept the feet going.
5 For still the desert lies
my thirsting soul before:
O living waters, rise
within me evermore.
Indeed. There was a lot of desert, or meseta, the Spanish plain, to be traversed, and that was the only part that we cheated on and got a train so that we missed out about 30 miles of the stuff, though we did a good whack of it. It wasn't at all challenging walking from the physical point of view, rather it called on the inner resources in order to survive it mentally - something had to bubble up from inside or you'd go mad.
J.S.B. Monsell. http://www.hymnary.org/person/Monsell_JSB?page=2
I'm sure that hymn wasn't written just for me; but with its psalmic resonances it shows the wonders of biblical-inspired poetry and the way that it seems more 'written for me' than might prayers written yesterday by our neighbour. These are just top-of-the-head thoughts, and they are probably an example of de-metaphorising and making the thing refer to purely physical hardships. But it's a constant 2-way flow, because precisely that physical hardship experience is what makes me grow - if indeed the camino can be said to have done any work at all.
 |
| Pfaff 2058 |
So - has the camino 'done its work'? I think it has, or rather, is doing, though I'm loath to say so, as there can always be a set-back and you feel back to square one. A lot has lain dormant since last year, and now on this first anniversary, it is informing how I think and feel quite powerfully, and making my heart beat faster at times as it all sloshes to and fro. I might have learned things about myself that I'm not going to blab about here. Some things I can say; unlike some of the characters in 'The Way', I wasn't trying to give anything up, and I succeeded in cracking my drink problem, and now I'm back on the wine and everything I always loved. The camino told me I had to do more of the things I do - 'use what you've got' - which is a phrase that's been in my head for years. It dealt with a bit of writers' block even though I didn't know I wrote anything, but here I am, bashing away as though my life depended on it; and just now I went to look for some gold leaf in my stash of stuff - it was elusive, so small a packet it is - and I felt I was in fairyland when I looked at my art supplies, as I've discovered ways I can express myself that I didn't have before, and I can't wait to use it all up before I die. What ways? Mainly the small picture and things folded up, rolled up, packed away into tiny spaces. Not great art; just something seen through my personal spy-hole that says what I want it to say. I walked all that way to discover THAT? When I got my newest sewing machine in 2008, with lots of lovely stitches, I started to do smaller more intricate things, and the camino has made me realise the need for things that are portable, and my reclaimed boybike too has done that with its very small carrying capacity. I love to be out there, on a journey in my 'outdoor study', which the camino is par excellence, people-watching, reading the surroundings, and scribbling away in some pilgrim journal like the 'Caminella' as I call mine (and 'tucked in' later). I want to be back there with my paints, a Bible and a notebook and some cloth so I can make some record of some of the stuff that sloshes around in me that I hope will be of some use to others along the way. But it doesn't matter where I go; it might be just up the road, I'm still 'on the camino' now, as anyone can be; it's just that the Camino de Santiago accelerates and intensifies the process considerably. I feel as though I am moving back into my own life. There's not a moment to lose in arranging the furniture and getting on with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment