I have not been able
to write about the "Cruz de Ferro" (the Iron Cross) until now. It was such a
profound experience for me that I had to let it settle in my heart and soul
before I could put a spiritual experience into human terms. I still feel the
inadequacy of words for the "language of God."
About 10 days from
the end of our walk, we were due to hike to Cruz de Ferro just beyond
Foncebadon. I had been waiting with great
excitement for this day.
(Notice this is the highest point on the El Camino.)
Let me share a bit of history with you so you can feel the fuller account of our experience.
The Celts and the
Romans often paid homage to their gods by creating piles of stones in the
mountains. This mound of stones was thought to be one such alter to the Roman
god Mercury. A medieval monk by the name of Gaucelmo, who had dedicated his
life to taking care of the pilgrims on the Camino in this area, added the iron
cross. The tradition is to bring a stone to leave on the pile that symbolizes
the weight of our burdens or our sins and laying them down or for some loving
intention and prayer.
The Cruz de Ferro
stands tall on a great hill of stones that pilgrims have been leaving there for
hundreds of years. The energy is fragile and echoes the sorrows that have been
left at the base of that cross. This isn’t a negative thing . . . it is a
release . . . a liberation. In this most high place, pilgrims over the centuries
have born those heavy stones that represent the great burdens in their hearts
and laid them down on that ever growing pile.
(CRUZ DE
FERRO - A pagan monument was transformed by medieval monk,
Gaucelmo, to a
Christian place of release and rebirth).
But first, lets go
back a couple of days . . .
June 9,
2014
We left the San Antonio Albergue
and were feeling pretty chipper. The blisters were treated and in submission
for now.
(ALBERGUE
SAN ANTONIO - A high point in our places to sleep and eat.)
I thought of the many
opportunities along the Camino to commune spiritually. Many crosses dot “The
Way” offering a place of solace and prayer. It always lifted my heart to see
one, no matter the size or material. They sanctified the ground on which they
stood. Below are several crosses that marked the country side with love and
hope.
(Some, so
very plain and simple)
(Others more elaborate)
(Many were tributes to
people whose last act was to walk the Camino.)
(Crosses were created by the
pilgrims in fences along “The Way.”)
(Izabela left a prayer for her father at
one of these memorials.)
(There were crosses in every village.)
(This one touched me very deeply along one of the most difficult climbs
on the way to
Santo Toribio.)
(Also, up there is a huge Prayer Labyrinth. Izabela and I took
the time
to peacefully walk through it, leaving there our prayers of hope.)
(Overlooking Astorga is this beautiful cross. )
A gentle man, Joseph, voluntarily
tends the garden here and tells us to “be happy” because that is the most
important thing in life.
(One cross served as a marker.)
This whole day was
full of thoughts about this prayerful path of crosses. It was along this rocky
road that we met David whom I talked about earlier with his fruit stand to share
sustenance with pilgrims. He was one of the most pure hearted people I have
ever met. The energy emanated from David in a soft glow of love. All of this
was preparing my heart for the Cruz de Ferro. I hobbled on into Santo Toribio happy that the blisters hadn’t won the day!
June 10,
2014
We awoke to a quirky day. The
hotel didn’t open, and they had Izabela’s laundry. We chose to get breakfast
down the street hoping her laundry would appear afterwards. After another
“operation,” the blisters were behaving. So picking up the laundry, we made our
way to Astorga. It is a place of great beauty on a mountain top (of course).
The Gypsies were in town for a market and we were warned to watch our purses.
We were too happy to worry about such things and as we came to the next little
village, we could see the white cap mountains.
(The white cape
mountains in the distance appeared cool and inviting.)
Actually, we saw a
Cowboy Bar, but even for this “redneck,” it was a “leetle” too rugged.
(Looked like the Wild West in Spain.)
June 11,
2014
I opened my eyes at
6:00 a.m. with a single-minded purpose . . . “Get to the Iron Cross.” I felt a calm
happiness deep down inside me. This was something I had prepared for for over 1
1/2 years by choosing the stone in South Africa for this very day. Everything
was fine until the fence of crosses; then it was rocks all over
again!
(The
rugged road of rocks.)
This certainly awakened the blisters; my feet were raw
and burned with a raging fire. Every step was a tribute to pain. It was
probably my most miserable day, yet it was totally enveloped in joy. The hill
to the Cross was long, hard and full of caverns that had been filled in with
rocks. Let me tell you, that “took the starch right out of my britches!” I was
finally down to scooting one foot in front of the other for an interminable
rugged distance and at my “double, grandma low” speed, it felt like it went on
forever!
(Navigating my way through the field of rocks.)
Let me qualify
something here . . . In my daily life, for over 20 years, my feet have been a
constant source of pain. It is something I have learned to live with. The
bunions, sharp shooting pains, tender to walk and a burning sensation with some
feelings of numbness . . . not a pretty picture. This was my second greatest
concern about the walk (the first being getting lost). I don’t want to give the
wrong impression about the Camino Trail. Though it is rough, blisters are
common and there is danger of twisted ankles, and inflamed knees. Izabela did
not have any of these difficulties! She only occasionally had sore heels and
fatigue in her feet.
Izabela and I went
through every terrain . . .
(Some wooded areas)
(Uphill and
down)
(Rocks and more rocks!)
(And then we were there!)
My
heart trembled with emotion. I clutched my quartz stone. It felt electric to
my touch. I breathed a prayer, and forgetting my feet, climbed to the top of
the mound of rocks. The Cross is mounted on a tall wooden pole and elegantly
rose to the heavens. The energy filled my spirit and spoke of the sacredness of
this moment. Standing on that mound of rocks, I realized, I was standing on the
hopes, the forgiveness, the liberation of so many burdens pilgrims over
centuries had left here. It was an ineffably holy moment. There were photos,
trinkets, memorabilia that people have placed there for their own purposes. It
all stood as a secret healing for the many souls who arrived with burdens too
big to name and who left light and free. Tears rolled down my cheeks and with a
shaking hand, I took out my rock and said a prayer for all the African children
our Helping Hands Charity seeks to help. I laid their hopes and dreams at the
base of the Cross. The awesome depth of this responsibility at first seemed to
weigh me down but slowly lifted as I prayed. By the time my rock settled on
the pile of all the others, a sense of peace washed over me, and I felt the
assurance that I was guided into doing exactly what I should be doing with my
life at this moment. I was “following the star placed in my heart since
birth.” It was an incredible and clear message for me-one of reinforcement
and a letting go of doubts.
(I left MY
doubts and fears on that mountain of burdens-- doubts and fears preserved over
the centuries. Mine now rested comfortably on that heap . . . outside of
me.)
This is not an
especially beautiful monument. It is the energy of all it represents that is
hushed and awesome. The words to the Hymn “Old Rugged Cross” came to mind . . . “Oh that old rugged cross, so despised by the world; has a wondrous
attraction for me.” And it was a magnetic attraction to me. It really
isn’t possible to describe something so much bigger than ourselves. This was
the high point of my transformative experience.
There were so many
magical times on the Camino. Times of spell binding beauty. And that took away
all feelings of the harsh ruggedness of the trail; the vivid pain dialed down
to a murmuring shadow. It is too pale to describe the feelings (the beauty, new
hope, the joy of doing what God ordained at my birth to do) with frail
words.
The “lost language of
God” I am told is expressed in feelings . . . as if your prayers were already
answered and you experience the feelings you would have in those answered
prayers. This was one of those experiences. One moment on the Mesita actually
expresses it in an image . . . the joy and serenity I felt . . . the overwhelming
beauty in a slice of life, and the harmony of a world in total
sync.
(God’s
world bursting with beauty and wonder. Everything conspired
to create the
mystery of life for me. My joy was complete.)
Yes, I will say it . . . “I FOUND
WHAT I WAS YEARNING FOR.”
Until next time, with
love,
Sidney
(And, Yes, there is
more. The wonder keeps unfolding).
Below, I am
recommending two books for your enlightenment. The authors are both friends of
mine, so I know them well, and I know their values. Both books have deep and
meaningful lessons and are page turners.
Seated At The
Masters Table, by Angela Threlkeld Dodd. This book and ebook can be found on
Amazon.com, and on Barnes and
Nobles.
Tough Lessons -
The Dark Side of Success, by John Borbi. His web site is www.toughlessons.com.
