Morning Journal

Sunday, November 10

 

 

I woke in the night to the group message from A. that made it sound like she’s coming back the last night. I’m furious that she has the nerve to write on the group regardless of whether she comes or not. Clearly I’m still having feelings about my experience with her. I’m feeling angry with Cape Camino in general. This may be the final straw.

 

I have gotten through this pilgrimage and been able to stick to my commitment to accept whatever has been presented. It turns out accepting a series of difficult things doesn’t mean I think it’s okay. My lack of sleep and general fatigue are making everything harder. I feel like whatever progress I might have made in these weeks has swept away like the tides we’ve been walking next to. I feel more alone than ever. 

. . . .

 

This is feeling more and more like a marathon race that I’m having to draw on last reserves to get to the finish line. I’m not looking beyond that line, looking for more. I’m not eager to walk more or even again. Especially in a group. If I do Ireland I will go alone, or with Shawn, but I don’t see myself willingly joining a group like this for pilgrimage again. 

 

It appears the healing needed around my eating and weight will have to continue at home. It seems whatever learning has happened here will have to be revealed at home. I’m not even sure about writing the stories. I am on an edge, the wrack line. Falling on either side feels wrong. This has not been a joy-filled journey. The frustrations of the social game have nearly undone it for me. 

 

On the other hand, it hasn’t been a disaster and looking at it that way would mean a loss of all the potential lessons. Not black, not white. Not even right now beautiful shades of gray. Rather murk, muddy water – less clarity than I started with. 

. . . .

 

How is it I’m more alone now than at the beginning? How is it that I’m struggling more than ever to look inward, or that it feels like I can’t really see or hear anything inward? The contrast between believing everything that’s happened is exactly what I need and asked for, and every part of me determined never to do this again is stark. 

 

So in a way something reached its conclusion here. I’m not in love and longing for something to continue. I do feel closer to Jane and Caroline, Arni and Shawn. I am grateful to have seen so many of the hosts again, to have experienced the landscape, to have met new amazing people. I mourn the loss of the longing, not because it feels filled but because it feels revealed as false, as illusion. Clarity, but not as comfort Clarity as harsh reality, unsoftened by ego. 

 

From Anam Cara:

 

“Integration is a vital part of coming home to yourself. What is not integrated remains fragmented; sometimes it can come to great conflict within you. The presence and process of integration bring to more fully home to yourself. 

. . . .

 

To visit the temple of memory is not merely to journey back to the past; it is rather to awaken and integrate everything that happens to you. It is part of the process of reflection that gives depth to experience. 

. . . .

 

Every human heart seeks meaning for it is in meaning that our deepest shelter lies. Meaning is the sister of experience, and to discern the meaning of what has happened to you is one of the essential ways of finding your inner belonging and discovering the sheltering presence of your soul.”