I met my love on a mountain.
Always knew it would happen this way. Not specifically, on a mountain. Just... in such an appropriate place. Of course! He met me where I was at. On that mountain. I wasn't looking for him. And yet. There he was. Waiting for me.
My mind was on other things. As a hopeless romantic I've learned - and still learn - not to fret the whys and wherefores. That's when I begin to feel truly hopeless. It is better by far to pursue life and find happiness therein than try to imagine what - if anything - is out there waiting to make me happy. Though, of course, I have always hoped for.... I don't think he was expecting me either.
Leaving León, so late in the day, had me quite alone on a long stretch of the Camino Via Mazarife. But that was alright with me! I've spent a lot of time "alleen maar toch niet alleen" up to this point. And have learnt how best to deal with moments like these...
I move faster alone. I can set my sights on lofty goals. Like doing over 75K in 1.5 days - on a blister sore foot and a broken heart - in order to have a sunmeeting at la Cruz de Ferro. Just to clarify: The heartache was for friends left behind at this point. The breaking of the fellowship, so to speak.
Despite the pain. I pressed on and on. Until finally, I gave in to my physical and emotional needs. About time. I came upon a couple living out in the middle of nowhere along the way. They were in no hurry to go anywhere. Just present for each passerby. And there was so much love in that space. I stopped to walk another labyrinth, and had a change of perspective. I remembered, my grandmother always says, "you have all the time there is."
That evening I gave up the race to get to the cross before rain. And stayed in one of the most beautiful spots along the way. With beautiful people. I realized that a) I required healing, and b) the healing I needed would come from resting in relationship, not running. Then, as I ought to have known - so many times had it happened before - I gave up the pursuit of future happiness and found happiness in pursuit of the present moment.
The following day I walked to my love, though I did not yet know. I thought I was just walking up to the fog. Perhaps you already know, I did not have a sunmeeting on that mountain. At least, not like I was expecting... but you know what "they" say about expectations.
Sun turned to snow as I climbed. At first, I tried to beat the weather up the mountain. Eventually, I had to accept that day's aesthetics. And settled into a steadier, more agreeable pace. I embraced the mystified blindness through which I approached the Iron Cross. In the end, it was just as it should be. As many things are. All well and good.
Beyond the cross, there was still more fog. But by now I found it quite lovely. Well, mostly. It was slightly unnerving to be up on that mountain and unable to see the place at which I sought refuge. I peered through the fog eagerly when I began to see the slightest signs of el refugio de montaña. And that's when our eyes locked for the fist time.
He had eyes that shone like the sun through the fog. Eyes that insight you to linger. It was love at first sight. Those golden brown eyes said, "I want you to draw me like one of your French girls." And so I did.
Mi Amor: Niebla de Manjarín, Fog of Manjarín
