La Cruz de Ferro

Today was a big day in significance on the Camino, one of the two big reasons for me coming and walking this summer. The Cruz de Ferro. The Iron Cross.

It is what the name says: an iron cross, but on top of a big wooden pole. It rises above a mound of dirt and rocks. The significance is in the stones themselves because the tradition is that when you walk the Way of Saint James, you bring a stone from home and carry it with you all the way to the Iron Cross. There, you leave it. You might say a prayer, or not. Often the stone represents someone who has died, sometimes with the person's name written on it.

This guy only went to the top of the mound and got a picture because it also happens to be the highest point on the Camino Francés.

It was different for me. I felt the emotions rising before I even saw the cross. For me, it's a big part of the reason I came. I made four stones specifically for this point. I painted them all teal. On three stones, I wrote one of three words: courage, faith, and strength. On the other side is a number.

The fourth stone also has two sides. One says "Survivor" and the other "Thriver." I am in transition between the two.

I put "Survivor" on the side up, for two reasons. One is that the stones knocked together throughout the trip and some of the paint flaked off, and this side is in better shape. But I also decided that it's a good thing, because I'm not quite to the point of being a "Thriver" quite yet, though I am so much closer than I have ever been before.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, check out this previous post: http://chemin-camino.blogspot.com.es/2014_05_01_archive.html.

I also wrote two things specifically for the moment, which I had troubled over for the past week or two even though I've had almost two months to work on what I wanted to say. I read them out loud, though quietly. They were for no one else to hear at the moment except me and God, though of course he already knew what I wanted to say. The first was more for me despite the word "we," and the other is a prayer. Because though the Camino is entirely an individual journey, I had others in mind even before I started walking.

"I know now that I am strong. We all are, even though we think we are weak, because it is difficult to understand. But we survived.

I survived.

Through all the pain, guilt, and shame, I survived. In struggling I found my strength. I am finding my voice. Little by little.

One pilgrim I met quoted a poet: 'Walker, there is no path. The path is you.'*

There is no magic arrow through healing and recovery because we are each one of us different. So must our paths be different.

We are our own worst enemies. We torture ourselves more than anyone else ever could. We call ourselves names. We tell ourselves we're stupid. We should have done something different, reacted differently.

But not only are these things we say to ourselves useless, they are wrong. We are strong. We are beautiful. We are smart. We are good. We are valuable. We are worthy.

It's time to heal. To open the box and let it all out. To break the silence. To change."

"Dear God,

Lead us in our healing journey. Guide us through the hardships and trials and give us strength to endure when we only want to give up. Help us to understand that others' actions against us are not our fault. Give us hope for the future and trust that it will be all right in the end. We are survivors. Help us to become thrivers. A d give us the courage to speak up, break the silence, and help others to make a change for the better."

I started crying as I read, maybe for what I've lost or who I once was. Or maybe even for all of us who haven't yet gotten to the same point. I don't really know.

For the past few days I have walked while listening to music, but I couldn't do that as I started out today. Today I knew it was different, just because of the Cruz de Ferro. So I walked in silence as I left Rabanal del Camino. And I walked in silence as I left behind the Cruz de Ferro and all that I wanted to leave behind with me along the Camino. Except even as I did, I knew that it will always be with me. This is a part of who I am now and even though it's the hardest thing I've ever done, I wouldn't change it. That might sound strange. After all, who wants to say they've been a victim?

But that's the thing. I'm not a victim anymore. I'm a survivor, on her way to being a thriver. I'm stronger for it. A part of me may have died each time, but I've become someone else and I wouldn't trade her for anything. I am who I am supposed to be. And as for the parts of me that aren't quite there yet... I've been able to figure some things out along my journey this summer.

I did start listening to music after the tears faded: the playlist I'd put together before I left and hadn't listened to for six whole weeks. Some of my favorite songs on it:

1) "I Am Woman" by Helen Reddy

2) "Roar" by Katy Perry

3) "Part of Me" by Katy Perry

4) "Independence Day" by Martina McBride

5) "F**kin' Perfect" by Pink

6) "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall

7) "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

And, finally, a perfect ending to a beautiful day.

*This is what I remember. The pilgrim I mention quoted it in Spanish, then translated to French. The phrase I quoted is what I remember and translated into English. It might be from this: http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/289625-xxix-traveler-there-is-no-path-the-path-is-made.