I loaded Cheater into the backseat, along with my poles, and before I left, I unzipped Pilgrim and looked inside to make sure my little purse was there. It was. We were good to go.
The other hostel was only minutes away, which was good because I wanted to eat breakfast before I left and it was inching toward 6 A.M. If I was to arrive on time for the pilgrims’ mass in the cathedral, I had to start walking by then, and no later.
Once back at the hostel, I left Cheater with reception, got my passport stamped, and then sat down to a delicious café con leche and a warm chocolate croissant. Just then I remembered I was to have met Patrick last night at the hostel. I wondered where he ended up and if I would ever see him again. He had been such a blessing and champion for me as we walked. I loved him dearly and prayed that I would get to see him. Then I grabbed an apple and set out.
The sky was clear and filled with stars. I looked for the Milky Way. I am not much of an astronomer, but there it was, lighting my way and guiding me home.
As I walked, I didn’t know what to think, so I prayed instead.
Holy Mother God,
I can’t believe I am taking the final steps toward Santiago. This has been such an incredible journey to the center of my soul and back; and because of it, I am now going home forgiven, whole, healed, and at peace. I had no idea it would heal me like this. I am so grateful. Thank you for all your blessings as you guide me the rest of the way. I can’t even find words to express what I feel in my heart, so for the rest of the way, my prayer will be in silence.
Amen … and thank you, thank you, thank you.
As I walked, I sensed the millions of pilgrims who had traveled The Way before me and knew they were escorting me to Santiago. My heart was quiet, listening to God, filled with humility and gratitude, my spirit completely at ease.
In time the sun rose and the sky exploded with brilliant rose and orange colors. The birds burst into song, greeting this beautiful day. Clear to the end, it couldn’t have been more perfect.
As I walked I contemplated the power of forgiveness. It actually transformed everything in my being. But I also knew it wasn’t something that just happened unintentionally. Forgiveness, at least for me, came about in increments. I had to feel and honor my wounds and traumas before I could release them. For years I had tried to forgive through spiritual platitudes, but in spite of my ambitious ideals, I only managed to bury my wounds even deeper into my bones. Walking with my pain freed me from it. I always wanted to forgive, but it was only through the act of being with my pain fully, walking with it day after day, that it began to ease up and leave my body, allowing me to open up to greater understanding of how people hurt one another, myself included. In doing this I found compassion and could forgive, and hope to be forgiven.
It didn’t bring me any peace to hide from my anger or deny it. Nor did it bring me peace to self-righteously hold on to it. It didn’t bring me peace to hide in shame for the pain I caused, nor did it bring me peace to justify my behavior.
The only thing that brought me peace was to fully feel my human experience and accept that no matter what had transpired, in this or any life, underneath it all people do what they think is right or necessary at the time, and because of that, we are all both victims and perpetrators. We are all wounded, and wound one another because of it. And we are all innocent, too. And for that I had compassion for all of us.
I also learned you can’t force-feed forgiveness either. I actually felt more wounded by those who seemed to shame me for not forgiving quickly than by those who hurt me. I could not forgive simply because I was told that was how I should feel. That wasn’t how forgiveness worked for me or for anyone else, ever. Forgiveness could not come about with a spiritual bypass that ignored my feelings or by having others tell me what to feel. I had to walk through it all in order to forgive.
Nothing is too big to forgive. I was injured and injuring. And still I knew I was a beautiful spirit who was loved by God. We all are. That brought relief.
Now I fully understood what Christ meant when he said on the Cross, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” In my wounded state, I didn’t know how deeply my behavior affected others. In forgiving everyone else, I knew I too needed to be forgiven. This pilgrimage really was The Way of Forgiveness. I prayed in silence and gratitude for my release, and asked for release from pain for everyone in my life, and in the world.
The path was intoxicating, layered in shades of green among the trees and the moss I didn’t even know existed. The sky was crystal clear, which was another blessing given how dark clouds and rain had accompanied me almost all the way from St. Jean. My heart was clear, as well. I could feel my dad walking with me, as well as my brother. I also felt my beautiful spirit guides. There were my ancestors, the knights, my guardian angels, and the pilgrims gone before me. The veil between this world and the subtle realms had parted, and my spirit communed with the gentle spirits surrounding me. I was feeling more like me than ever before. Not just my temporal me, in this body in this life. I was connected to my true self, walking in the wholeness of my divine nature. I was no longer struggling or wounded or afraid of anything. All I needed to do was continue to walk in love and all would be well. Of that I was completely certain.
A few hours later, I entered the outskirts of Santiago. My heart skipped a beat, and I became overwhelmed with emotion. As I crossed the river and made my way to the center of the city, I began to sob uncontrollably. I looked ahead and saw the spires of St. James Cathedral in the distance. It was my Emerald City. I made it.
Soon I saw a sign that said “Welcome to Santiago” at a very busy roundabout, with a yellow arrow pointing to the historic center of town. Still in disbelief that I had finally arrived, I paid close attention to the yellow markers, not wanting to get lost in this now big confusing city at the end point of my journey. I walked steadily, as I still had 20 minutes to get to the mass. I was going to make it. In spite of the pain in my feet, I quickened my pace.
Ten minutes later I found my way into the historic center of town, drawn in by the sound of bagpipes playing under an arch leading to the cathedral. When I got closer, I saw that the man playing them was dressed in full medieval regalia. Farther on I saw more people dressed in medieval-period costumes pointing the pilgrims toward the church. It was touristy, but I loved every moment of it. I used the medieval people as my new markers until I walked into a great plaza, and there before me stood the cathedral, the most magnificent I have ever seen in my life.
I stood in awe of it and the fact that I was finally here. I took a breath. “We made it, Sonia,” I said. “We are here.”
A few moments later I climbed the stairs, walked inside, and found myself among throngs of people, including many of the familiar faces of those I had walked with along the way. We laughed and hugged and laughed some more and hugged some more, in between wandering around in awe of where we were.
The church was packed, and I realized that if I wanted to get a seat before mass, I had better find it now. I started walking toward the altar, trying to get as close as I could in spite of the crowds, when I heard a whisper next to me. “Sonia, sit here.” Surprised, I turned and saw Sarah, one of the women who had ridden a horse with me to O Cebreiro.
“Sarah! Thank you!” I answered, delighted to now be seated right on the aisle, looking straight at the altar. Moments later the mass began. It was moving to be among the pilgrims from 165 countries around the world who were there that day.
The priest who said the mass was fantastic, and his sermon spoke straight to my soul.
“Now that you’ve walked the Camino, you can carry on in God’s grace. Your heart will be lighter as you are free of the past.” At the end he said, “Buen Camino, dear pilgrims. It means, ‘Have a good way.’ Take the Camino blessings forward, and don’t let it stop here. Forever, buen Camino.”
Before the mass was over, 12 more priests came out and then raised the great Butofumeiro, a huge incense burner filled
with frankincense, used in ancient times to fumigate the pilgrims and remove the stench of their journey.
It took all 12 to raise it far above the crowd and begin to make it swing from one side of the cathedral to the other. It was an incredible sight to behold and one we were all blessed to experience, as it is not raised every day. I had wanted to see it and couldn’t believe my good fortune.
The smoke filled the cathedral with its sacred scent, burning this moment even further into my brain and the cells of my body. We received communion and a blessing at the end. I sat for a while after mass ended, then lined up with the others to touch the statue of St. James.
I walked out of the church in a daze, and wandered over to the Compostela office to get my Compostela, my official certificate acknowledging my completion of the pilgrimage. As I stepped up they asked for my name and wrote it out in Latin. “Congratulations,” they said as they put my certificate into a special tube to protect it from damage while I traveled.
“Thank you,” I answered, proud to hold it in my hands.
I then wandered back to the front of the cathedral. There I saw so many more fellow pilgrims. There were Kate and Alice, and Linda and Clint and Dean. There were Hans and Peter, and even Eric, whom I had given my coat to weeks ago. It was wildly fun to see everyone. Then, from out of the crowd, running toward me, with a huge smile on his face, almost in slow motion, came Camino Patrick. We screamed and hugged and twirled around.
“We made it, Patrick!” I cried. “We two old geezers made it!”
He laughed. We took photos. We danced. We hugged some more. Then it was over.
It was now up to me to carry the flame of forgiveness back home to Chicago.
I hugged and kissed everyone I knew one last time, and then Patrick and I decided to have lunch. Afterward, on a whim, we decided to get tattoos of Camino symbols, his on his forearm, mine on each foot.
“I don’t want to forget this, Patrick,” I cringed through this final pain inflicted on my poor feet when it was my turn. “This will remind me not to.”
Then it was time to part ways. Patrick was walking on to Finisterre, so he had another 150 kilometers to go. I was going to take a flight in the early morning to meet my daughters in Vienna for the workshop I was to teach in a few days, barely able to take another step.
Standing in the pouring rain, we just looked at each other and smiled.
“Buen Camino, Patrick,” I said, giving him a final hug. “Have a good way.”
“You too, Sonia,” he answered. “Buen Camino.”
AFTERWORD
Two months after I returned to Chicago, I received an e-mail from my husband, Patrick, saying he would be in town and asking if I would be willing to meet him while he was here.
I agreed, and we arranged to meet at the lakefront several blocks from the house.
My feet had healed enough to walk over, and it felt more personal that way. As I approached our meeting point, I wondered how I would feel once I saw him. Looking up in the distance, my question was immediately answered. I saw Patrick walking toward me—not the monster I felt he was the last time we were together, but just a guy who seemed vulnerable and scared. A guy I actually loved.
Moments later we came face-to-face, and he put out his hand for me to take, which I did. We started walking and didn’t say a word to each other for a long time. Finally we made our way over to a park bench and sat down in the shade.
“How are you, Sonia?” he finally asked.
“I’m peaceful, Patrick. My pilgrimage healed my heart.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, “That’s great. I’m so proud of you for doing that.”
A few minutes later, I asked, “How are you?”
He was again quiet for some time.
“I’m sad,” he finally replied. “I miss you and our family.”
I listened. I could tell it was true.
After a while he said, “Do you want to try it again with us?”
I looked out at the water, feeling for the answer. It came easily.
“Sure, Patrick. I’m willing.”
“We’ve had so many difficulties before. We hurt each other so much.”
“Yes, we did,” I said, “but I’ve forgiven all that. I hope you can as well.”
“I can.”
He paused, and then asked, “Do you think we can work things out?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“How should we even begin?” he asked. “It seems like a lot.”
I took a breath and thought for a long while.
Then I said, “I have an idea. Do you want to walk the Camino with me?”
Walking home alone after our conversation, I thought about what lay ahead between us. I’ve always been a big believer in happy endings and worked so hard to bring them about, so the thought that we might be able to reconcile was seductive. But now I knew in my heart that even if things between us did come to an end, I would still be happy. And that gave me freedom and peace.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my beautiful daughters, Sonia and Sabrina, for holding me in love when I fell apart and for convincing me to take this pilgrimage. And to my beloved siblings and father, as well as Camino Patrick, for encouraging me to make it to the end.
And finally, to all my fellow pilgrims and unseen helpers who helped me remember and love who I am today and leave the rest behind. I am grateful beyond measure to all for my newfound and unshakable inner peace.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sonia Choquette is celebrated worldwide as an author, spiritual teacher, six-sensory consultant, and transformational visionary guide. An enchanting storyteller, she is known for her delightful humor and adept skill in quickly shifting people out of psychological and spiritual difficulties, and into a healthier energy flow. Sonia is the author of 19 internationally best-selling books about intuitive awakening, personal and creative growth, and the innate leadership capabilities that reside within, most notably with the New York Times bestseller The Answer Is Simple …
Sonia’s work has been published in over 40 countries and translated into 37 languages, making her one of the most widely read authors and experts in her field of work. Because of her unique gifts, her expertise is sought throughout the world, helping both individuals and organizations dramatically improve their experience and abilities to perform at optimal levels through empowerment and transformation.
Sonia’s extensive background in uplifting guidance began as early as 12 years of age; she established her unwavering integrity at this young age, and continued following along this guided path to help other people find their truest selves through intuition. Sonia’s legacy is continued by her two daughters, Sonia and Sabrina, who both have their own careers in spiritual coaching and guidance.
Sonia’s philanthropic work has brought her to workshops in South Africa, through her publisher Hay House, which helped her set up organizational collaborations with Nurturing Orphans with AIDS for Humanity (NOAH), in addition to extensive charity work and fund-raising throughout the United States.
In 2012, Sonia was awarded the Leader of the Year by the Global Holistic Psychology Association and the award for Exceptional Human Service by the 1st Global Parliament of Human Spirituality in Hyderabad, India.
Sonia attended the University of Denver and the Sorbonne in Paris, and holds a doctorate from the American Institute of Holistic Theology. She is a member of the Transformational Leadership Council, and is the host of her own weekly radio show, Six Sensory Living.
When not globe-trotting, Sonia can be found in Chicago, Illinois. She is an avid traveler and prides herself on her passionate pursuit of learning and growing every day. In her spare time, she enjoys dancing, playing the piano, fashion, art, and design; and she practices yoga and Pilates to stay in shape. She also loves everything about Paris and spends time there every year! To learn more about Sonia, please visit www.soniachoquette.com.
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THE SHIFT, the movie,
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Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed Page 34