Tag Archives: love

Nomad Pitches Tent in Boston

Approximately one year ago, Nomad was living on Long Island and began to feel that familiar itch – the itch to move, to uproot, to find greener pastures, watering holes and new territories to explore..

Nomad began to crave civilization. Intensely. She wanted to eat in new restaurants and navigate new boulevards. She wanted to find her tribe.

The slow lazy days spent on Long Island were a combined mixture of boredom and quiet stillness. The former has been known to drive Nomad insane, but the latter gave her great pleasure. However, Nomad began to struggle more and more with boredom and loneliness and decided it was time to make moves.

And so she set her sights on a city. A city that she had not before considered, and in fact had actually once shirked – Boston. As with all of Nomad’s previous moves, there was first a calling and then a gestation period before packing up her belongings and her tent and relocating it from one pasture to the next.

This particular gestation period seemed interminable. Work was busy as she prepared for someone to take over her position and students flocked in droves to the campus. In July her heart suffered a breaking open, and it was brutally uncomfortable. But Nomad is well practiced in the art of change, and she understood that preparing to move meant shedding the things that no longer served her so that she could travel light and far.

Nomad wanted  a quick fix and a change of pace to mend her broken heart. But as per usual, she had to sit and wait patiently. It felt like an eternity, but finally her plan to move started to pick up momentum in June. She found a place to pitch her tent – a great little spot in Somerville, an up and coming suburb of Boston. A quiet street, a small, cozy apartment, two lovely roommates- it was perfect. Convenient. Affordable. Good energy.  “I’ll take it,” she said without considering any other options. Only 3 months til she could move in. She didn’t want to wait, but didn’t have a choice.

Nomad was excited for her next steps and, as to be expected, a little nervous, too. While she was certain on having a place to call home, she was uncertain what her source of income would be. She fought that fear until she made herself sick with anxiety. One day she made up her mind to let go and trust – a practice that always serves her well.  Her employer had promised to make it work for her if she could go with the flow. And so that is what she did.

She read on the beach all summer, tanned her skin and sought the healing properties of the salted air and water. She centered herself with dance and resolved to move her body as much as possible. It helped draw September nearer to her.

And then it was finally time. Time to say goodbye to the people she loved on Long Island. This part of moving – the goodbye part – is always significantly hard and sad for Nomad. Her tears were metallic and salty as she hugged the people who had become closest to her. But she carries these people in her story and in her heart.

On her last day on the Island she packed the U-haul with her belongings and set off with her best friend by her side for Boston. He was going to deliver her to her new home before heading back to Long Island, and she was eternally grateful that she didn’t have to say that goodbye to him just yet.

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Her excitement outweighed the sadness she felt on leaving. She was anxious to settle in to her new home and to meet a particular man that had peaked her interest in a previous trip to Boston. There was something undeniably different and special about this man and she was excited to find out what.A first date was had as soon as Nomad had unpacked her last box. The best first date she’d ever been on. Needless to say, the two more than hit it off, and Nomad has spent the last four months since she arrived in Boston exploring the city clad in a pair of rose-colored glasses and a very full and happy heart.

She still has yet to learn many things about her new town. She doesn’t know how to get from point A to B without the help of Google Maps. She only has a handful of spots where she frequents for food and drink and has  only just joined a gym. But Nomad is excited to do what she does best — explore the nooks and crannies of her heart and the of the people and places all around her.

Stay tuned for the next chapter in Nomad’s many adventures. This one is sure to be full of excellent people and places.

Happy New Year to you and yours. May it be full of discovery!

Love, Nomad

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Gdansk with the Stars

When I started to plan this trip to Poland I read travel blog after travel blog about the best things to see and do. Knowing myself and how I like to travel, the two non-negotiables on my list of things to experience were culture and nature.

I made up my mind that I would first go north to the city of Gdansk in order to experience what one blogger called “the most charming and romantic city in Poland.” However, as my trip drew nearer I realized that I had booked my flight to arrive over the Easter weekend and that the “charming and romantic” inhabitants of this city were going to be eating eggs and borscht and kielbasa with their families, as I strolled the empty streets and peered into windows of shops whose signs read, “zamkinęty” or “closed.” But I wanted a taste of the city nonetheless, so I started to email anyone that I knew who was Polish to see if they had family who would take me in and celebrate a traditional Polish Easter with me.

No dice.

Two days before I was scheduled to fly I thought that I would send out a few messages via couchsurfing.com and see if I got any replies. I sent out 8 requests and got 7 “declines.” But there was one family who agreed to host me.

At first I only had communication with the father, Mariuscz. According to their profile, they were a family of four–a husband, wife and two daughters. As soon as I accepted the invitation, however, I started to think…I hope this is legitimate. As I boarded the train to Gdansk my thoughts were, this could be great…or this could be a nightmare. Crossing my fingers for my good karma to bring me into the home of a nice Polish family, I got off the train and was greeted with a big hug from Mariuscz and Matilda, their eldest daughter. As we drove back to their house I breathed a sigh of relief as 15-year old, Mathilda, told me that I was their very first couch surfer and that they were so excited to take me in and share their home, culture, holiday and city with me.

When I arrived I met the mother, Patricia, and youngest daughter, Melanie. I settled in and we sat around the table drinking tea and getting to know each other. We shared tales of travels and hiking expeditions. They love to travel and see the world and they have instilled this value into their beautiful, well-rounded and mature daughters.

As we talked I learned that Patricia and Mariuscz met walking on a pilgrimage to the relic of the Black Faced Madonna–a 500km trek by foot from their hometown Gdansk. When they met, Patricia gave Mariuscz the travel bug and they have made seeing their country and the world a top priority for their family. They also told me about a piece of graffiti he did many years ago on the top of the tallest building in Gdansk, that reads “kocham moja Pa” meaning “I love my Pat,”which had become very famous in the city. It’s a symbol of their incredible love, which knows no boundaries, and it’s for all the world to see.

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This morning when I woke up, Easter breakfast was on the table. We had an egg fight and then ate lemon salmon, stuffed eggs, potato salad and desserts until our stomachs couldn’t handle anymore. After breakfast the girls searched for their Easter eggs and then we got ready to go to church.

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Because we knew we had another Easter meal at 2pm, we decided to walk so that we could burn off some of our breakfast. We bundled up and set off in the direction of their church. We had walked less than 300 meters when I stopped dead in my tracks. Low to the ground on a metal highway divider was a trail marker for El Camino de Santiago. To my disbelief, the trail that I had walked 800 km on to Santiago de Compostella in Spain 2 years ago was right outside their front door!

The spirit of pilgrimage came up once the last night, when Mariuscz and Patricia recounted their love story to me. In the back of my head I thought of my own pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella, but then quickly brushed it to the side in order to let myself fall in love with their love. This morning, when I saw the marker, however, I was truly astonished. It was like El Camino was calling out to me to remind me that I am always on the way. I felt the magic of the trail once again and my heart swelled. The trail showed itself two more times throughout the day, and I laughed thinking that there was no coincidence. I was meant to be here and meet these amazing people.

After mass we drove to Mariuscz’s mother’s house for MORE food. Seriously, these people have opened their doors and kitchens and hearts to me in a way that is so generous and kind and fattening. I’m going to need to buy some new jeans. I thought I couldn’t be more grateful for their hospitality and sharing of their family’s holiday, but then they offered to drive me into Gdansk and give me a guided tour of their city.

Gdansk is a stunningly beautiful and an amazingly strong city. It was burned to the ground in 1944 by the Russians, who were fighting over the city with the Germans. The devastation was massive and you can still see scars of the war everywhere. However, the rebirth is something like a phoenix from the ashes. It was a reminder to me of the resilience of humanity. Life is not always going to be easy, but sometimes we are meant to be burned to the ground so that we can wear our scars like badges of honor and flourish in the wake of catastrophe.

We arrived back at home many hours later, exhausted from our epic day out. Mariuscz, Mathilda and I squeezed in a workout, and kick boxed against each other in the living room. The end to my perfect day was 10+ punches to the face…and I mean that in all seriousness. This family gets me.

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The gratitude is flowing as always.

Happy Easter to all!

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Attitude of Gratitude–Day 21–My Adopted Family

Recently I’ve been having moments where a swirl of emotions, gratitude and love swell within me and burst from within in the form of an enormous grin. It’s a feeling that I recognize as I start to settle into myself and my surroundings. I’ve been fighting the notion of living on Long Island since I moved here, but there have been some wonderful moments here, and more importantly, some wonderful people.

One of my closest confidants at work is a lovely woman named Debbie. She is the woman I call when I need directions, when I need a doctor, when I need a nail salon, when I need a family. She has taken me in as her third daughter and introduced me to her Long Island world. She has helped me acclimate to the Island and has opened my mind and my heart to this place.

This weekend I am house-sitting for Debbie’s daughter, Carrie. As I sit in her kitchen writing this piece, I feel this sense of accomplishment–like being here means that I am officially part of their family. In just one year I have been adopted as a little sister and a daughter. I feel blessed to know this family and I am so grateful for this unexpected friendship that has resulted from this move.

This just proves to me that there are beautiful people all over the globe, and wherever I am, I will always attract the best and most genuine of them into my life. Grateful today for Debbie and her girls, Carrie and Tracee!

Wishing Tracee the best in the D.C. Marathon tomorrow–she is running as a St. Jude’s Hero! And to Carrie, her precious pup is my new best friend and is in the best of care. Love to you all!

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Attitude of Gratitude–Day 18–Bad Ass Ladies

Today is March 8th, International Women’s Day! This post is going to be short and sweet, but it is full of gratitude to the amazing woman who have transformed my life:

Mom–Numero uno! Thank you for bringing me forth into this amazing world and leading me with your example.

Mimi–The woman who taught me the true meaning of glamour.

Aunt Denise–A faithful mother to the entire Guerra clan!

Chris–My surrogate grandmother full of wisdom and love.

Betsy–The most amazing teacher, motivator and supporter!

Wendy–My guide to the stars,and all things big picture. Love knows no bounds for this woman.

Kelley–“I solemnly swear we are up to no good.” My partner in crime and fellow adventurer!

Alicia–A perfect example of the mixture of hard work and big brains!

Emily–The most kind hearted and beautiful soul I know.

Jessica–A ray of light and a friend to all.

Virginia– My mystic mamma with a knowledge for all things wilderness.

Kaitlin–My badass lawyer to-be, kicking butt and takin’ names!

Shaakira–A dancer filled to the brim with faith.

Madjane–Elle est belle, elle est forte, elle est folle.

Zannah–Soul. Sister.

Meredith–This girl is following her dreams around the world and back again.

Erika–I know no other as fabulous as she.

Alicia H–A woman so fierce and fantastic, so bold and beautiful.

Sophie–This witchy woman harnesses the power of the moon to free herself (and others) from being bound by social norms.

Nicola–Brimming over the top with love and beaming with light.

Maura–A positive, genuine and hilarious female role model.

Kristin–A woman who misses no small detail and is prepared for anything.

Brittany–Fabulous, fly, fantastic, and fleek.

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To all my ladies,

Thank you for the love, guidance and support you have given to me. You are all beacons of light, shining forth your radiant power into this world. I am grateful, humbled and honored to have you in my life. Happy women’s day one and all!

Lots and lots of love!

Lizzie

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Attitude of Gratitude — Day 2 — Soul people

I’ve always thought myself lucky to know so many good people. I have a family that extends far beyond my blood’s limits, to whom I can always count on for a genuine affirmation, a listening ear, a love-filled hug. From one corner of the globe to the other, I can reach out at any time and tap into my network of soul mates.

When someone hears the term soul mate, they automatically think in terms of a romantic life partner. In my experience, however, my soul mates are people, both men and women, wise with age and ripe with youth, that have connected with me on a molecular level. People with whom, when we’ve looked into each other’s eyes have recognized ourselves within.

This recognition is more than just our commonalities. Of course we share interests, but what I am trying to describe goes beyond that. They are the kind of people you feel you knew in a past life, and who, with no explanation, understand and accept your entire being.

Tonight I am grateful to have had the privilege of spending time with James and his wonderful girlfriend, Anne — fellow beautiful soul people. Mr. James Birney came into my life a few years ago, and our soul connection was evident from our first conversation. James told me soon after we had met each other that we were going to know each other for a very long time. I, however, knew we had already known each other for an eternity.

Soul mates are people who unite you with Source. They are human reminders of the divinity that lives within us all, that which unites us all together as one.

Tonight was a night filled full with soul. Just a few truly good people sitting together around a table, blessed with good food and a healthy conversation.

I am especially grateful for this connection and to all of my soul mates past, present and future.

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Amen, right on shalom, salaam, namaste!

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The sacred company of books

Upon stepping through my front door a visitor will discover that I am a hoarder of the sacred. Over the years I have taken great comfort in things that recall my memory to moments of growth and connection with spirit–to places I have lived, and to people and experiences that have touched my heart.

I build alters from stones and feathers found on nature walks. I collect maps from cities I’ve travelled to and postcards written to me from loved ones in far off distant places. I have prayer beads, glass angels, hand carved statues of the Buddha, hamsas to ward of the evil eye, pictures of friends and family, inspirational quotes and journals.

And I have books.

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All kinds of books. Novels and non-fiction, young adult books (yep.), history books, language acquisition books, spiritual self-help books, books on how to be financially conservative, books on how to have difficult conversations, books about war, books about peace, books about love, books about travel, books about yoga, books in French. I have second-hand bookstore books, books from Amazon.com, books I’ve read eight times and books I’ve never read at all.

All of my books are sacred. Each one of them containing a small and profound universe.

My bookshelf represents spiritual potential. As if in a trance or deep meditation–here, physically on my couch or in my bed or on the train–I achieve what the gurus call awakening when I open a book. I am fully engulfed in the present moment, devoured by a black-hole I soar through time and space. I inhale the scent of the pages and I am reborn with each new plot as I dance with both primary and supporting characters alike. I experience the ascent to the climax and come back to this earthly plane only upon pressing a bookmark safely between the book’s pages.

As I near the end of a book, I usally slow down. My curiosity for the summation is over-taken by a feeling of impending nostalgia. Like the feathers and statues and candles and rocks on my alter, I both mourn and celebrate their memory in these words,

The end.

The last page of a book is the sweetest kind of meloncholy. It’s a journey travelled from beginning to end, experienced through my lens and knowledge of self. The experience is highly spiritual and, most importantly, it is mine alone, no matter how many book clubs have read the same work.

Not all stories have happy endings, and I would venture to say that I’ve rarely come across a spectacular book wtih a happy ending. For me, the best books evoke an emotion, which I seek to savour, as if it were a beautifully aged bottle of wine. The conclusion of the best books leaves the reader reflecting on the lessons learned and the growth they have gained as if they lived through the eyes of the characters.

Reading is an act of spirit. It infuses Self into pages filled with words written by another. In that connection between the reader and the author’s text, the walls of illusion fall down and unity is achieved.

As a church is to a Christian, a mosque to a Muslim, a synogogue to a Jew, a temple to a Hindu or Buddhist or the forest to an outdoorsman, so is a library is to me.

Within the walls of a library I am surrounded by a community of seekers–those who crave the unity of written word and spirit. A cohort who worship authors and their works of creative genius and who come back time and again for that unique and individual connection to the divine universe of a good book.

 

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Circumnavigating the Heart; A Father’s Day Tribute

The circle is a symbol we can all identify with, an infinitely wise geometric shape.

The heart, a blood-pumping-organ that circulates oxygen and blood through our veins.

The sun, which chases the moon through the night sky, dashing across the universe

And pulling the tides of the sea inhale, exhale.

A ship, sailing the seas, circumnavigating the globe.

Through turbulent waters and calm ones he sailed.

My father, the seafarer.

Some of my earliest memories of my father were imaginations, ruminations.

I sat spinning my globe ’round and round tracing an outline with my delicate pointer finger

Across mountains and seas, desserts and rain forests,

Metropolitan cities and rivers and valleys.

“Where’s Daddy?” Mommy would ask.

“Bangladesh,” or  “Cape Town,” or  “Diego Garcia,” I would reply, pinpointing his location with my finger.

I imagined him on his ship, the master of the seas.

“Daddy always comes home” Mommy would tell me.

And he always did.

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It was hard for all of us to function as a family unit sans the captain of our household.

But his first mate and crew managed.

Our hearts were full of joy when Dad came and grief when he left.

And even as we grew older and more accustomed, it never became easier.

Birthdays were missed, Christmases too.

But as Dad sailed he circumnavigated our hearts.

Because it was love for his family that sent him back to the open seas each time.

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Don’t be fooled, Dad. This love is not unrequited nor unappreciated.

And it’s this very love, which has had a profound effect on my life.

Sometimes the effects were as indirect as the passage around the Cape of Good Hope,

But they remain a part of me nonetheless.

I too became a traveler, and as the wanderlust surged and swelled within me like a storm raging in the Atlantic, I set off, like my father, to chart my own course.

I wanted to see the world  just like my Dad.

I wanted my passport to be as full and diverse as his.

And most of all I wanted to explore borders and push boundaries.

I wanted to open myself up the world and let my heart soar to heights as high as Kilimanjaro and plunge as low as the ocean’s floor.

From home, my parents worried. But they were steadfast in their love and support.

And what I’ve learned is that no matter how many times we complete a circle, we are infinitely traveling towards home.

Towards the center of our hearts,

And into the arms of those who love us most.

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Dad,

My passport is now filled with stamps, but the most important stamp of all is the influence you’ve had on my life over the past 24 years. Thank you for your love that knows no borders.

And remember, I, too, always come home.

Happy Father’s Day!

Love,

Lizzie

 

 

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Attitude of Gratitude–Day 36: Divinity

All week I’ve been building up to this post, like a yogi building up to a challenging pose. I’ve been limbering up my mind, body and soul to openly accept the divine within. I specifically decided that divinity, would be my last subject of this week’s “You Are What You Eat” posts, because it is encompasses all of this week’s topics: humility, self-sacrifice, friendship and love.

When we are in tune with our divine essence, we synchronize ourselves with the infinite expansion of the universe. We are at one both human and divine–ever changing, ever expanding beings.

Through humility we recognize our place in the universe and allow ourselves the flexibility to accept who we are in this form, but also recognize the goddess and god within ourselves and our fellow earthly inhabitants. Through self-sacrifice, we experience the needs of the collective, and give them precedence over our own individual needs. Through friendship we learn the give and take, or the divine dance. if you will, of relationships.  And  finally, through love–especially self-love–we learn to elevate our energetic fields so that those who come into contact with our love know exactly how they should treat us. And thus, as divine beings, we promote all of these wonderful characteristics through a concentrated practice of non-judgement, awareness and patience.

While this week has been tough physically as a result of the juice cleanse, and emotionally quite low for me, I am grateful for some divine perspective. The challenge of body, mind and spirit awareness isheavily concentrated in the body and mind. For me, though this week has been hard in those two aspects, I feel like I am soaring to new divine heights. The dirty work, the hunger, the endurance, the patience, the awareness, the commitment are tools  we use to alter our perspective.

My commitment to gracious living and doing the dirty work is what makes my spirit shine. As a result of this cleanse and my week’s worth of concentration on the divine, my light is lighter and brighter this week.

I am grateful today for this learning experience, for the hard work and commitment, for the lessons I learned by sitting with the discomfort and for my well earned treat, a deep tissue massage.

 

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Amen, right on, shalom, salaam, namaste.

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Attitude of Gratitude–Day 32: Humility

Today, I’ve committed to writing my gratitude post about humility, though, admittedly, I am not 100% clear on the definition of the word itself. Perhaps because it’s one of those multi-faceted words that, as you begin to define it, evolves.

For me, humility often is associated with the quieting of the ego. It’s the force that de-puffs our chests and softens our footsteps and accepts our limitations. Being humble is also an act of gratitude and appreciation towards ourselves and others. A humble persons pays a compliment, lauds the successes of others, practices radical listening and does not make comparisons. What’s more, a humble person remains open to their surroundings. They embrace each moment with a sense of awe and wonder. They are connected to the gentle ebb and flow of the universe and remain in child-like wonder of the big picture.

Practicing humility is not something that I often think to do. In our culture we’re not taught to be humble. We hoard and brag and strive to get ahead at the expense of others. Paradoxically, we’re taught from a young age not to hurt each other’s feelings so we feign humility by disguising our accomplishments. But this too, is an act of comparison, because it stems from the belief that my success will make you feel inadequate. The result is often times a silent party full of self-approval and the simultaneous down-putting of another person.

In order to fully comprehend humility, however, we must fully comprehend the source of all things–love. I chose Christ as my role model, as we are in the Lenten season, but anyone who truly preaches a message of love can fully grasp the concept of humility. The source of all things is love–and when we can look behind the cloak of illusion, when I can love a stranger, as I love myself or those close to me, is when I break through the surface of humility. As I delve deeper below the surface, my humbled human form realizes that there is no separation between myself and another, myself and the beautiful flower on my side table, nor the things that we consider ugly and oppressive. The particles in me are the same particles spread through everything in the universe.

Today I am grateful for renewed perspective; I am a part of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen. I am small and humble, yet undeniably significant.

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Attitude of Gratitude — Day 5: Camino Magic

Today, as I nested in my new apartment, I felt twinges of nostalgia and melancholy. While I neatly organized  7 years of photographs and items I’ve collected in my travels, I thought long and hard about each adventure and its respective boon. The grand picture that came into focus today was of the series of events in my life that have led me to where I am now. Each step and each decision has a cause and effect as well as an alternate reality of what could have been. Looking at all of my things, I recognize that they are not me, just mere symbols of my identity. However, the purpose they serve is to remind me how far I have come. 

To me, though, gathering all my things together is not just about how much I’ve done and how many “successful” moments I’ve lived. I believe, rather, that these belongings are filled with energy, and they release it into my present surroundings in order to elevate my own personal energy field. 

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As I crafted my symbolic ode to one of my life’s most significant experiences, El Camino de Santiago, I began to feel emotions of deep gratitude. El Camino changed my life because it taught me to trust the unknown and to faithfully believe in the mantra, “the Camino provides.” As a metaphor for life, El Camino showed me that it’s crucial to take your time and to open your eyes, ears and heart to the energy of the Universe. The feeling of magic, which pilgrims experience whilst walking the camino is difficult to describe. The only way I can explain it is that each day, the collective energy of past, present and even future pilgrims pulses along the trail bringing to each person a valuable lesson or gift.

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With my shrine put together and the camino on my mind, I began to radiate the magic, and the energy was felt world-wide. 

This afternoon I spoke with a dear friend of mine from the trail. He is someone whose brief sojourn into my life changed everything I knew to be true about life and love. Every discussion we’ve ever had has given me deep insight into my Self. Speaking with him today, we talked about the fact that had I not walked, I wouldn’t be in the exact place I am at this very moment–nesting into my new apartment on the eve of my new job. I explained to him how grateful I was for the series of heart-opening events that has led me here, and how, even though I’ve been feeling a little nervous about this transition, I am confident that I am capable of taking on this huge responsibility. 

As the evening came round, I received an email from a woman whom I had met at the airport departing from Santiago de Compostela. The day after I reached Santiago, I was scheduled to fly. With almost no time to process that I had completed my pilgrimage, I took off for the airport hustling to get to Barcelona. That early September morning, everything seemed like a blur. I couldn’t actually believe that after a year of preparation and 33 days on the trail, that this portion of my journey was coming to an end.

As I stood in line to grab a croissant and a juice, I crossed paths with another pilgrim. I asked her if I could eat breakfast with her. As we began to chat our hearts opened and poured out our stories to each other. Though we were complete strangers, we both desperately needed each other’s company on the brink of transition off of the trail. I told her how I had fallen in love on the camino and was flying to Barcelona, she told me about her son and how he was experiencing a rough patch in his life. Then she showed me photos of the people she walked with and told me stories of her journey. As we walked to security she asked me what seat I had on the plane. “34C,” I said. She was in seat 34D. We laughed at the serendipity, though we both knew it was the Camino’s magic. When we landed in Barcelona, the song “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros played softly over the speakers. I hummed along thinking about the times me and my best friends danced in the kitchen to this song and thought about the perfection of their lyrics. 

Upon our arrival in Barcelona, I gave her my email address and we parted ways. 

Every so often I thought about her, wondering how she was, but she had my email, I did not have hers. Today, as my phone chimed to let me know I’d received a message, I imagined it was one of the hundreds of e-newsletters I’m subscribed to. I didn’t recognize the name, and there was no subject message, but when I opened the email, this is what I read: 

Hi Lizzie,

 
You remember…on the airport of Santiago de Compostela… we both had to cry..
Today i was thinking about you, I heard the song from the airplane in Barcelona, you were in love..
How are you?
 
Kind greetings from Ineke (Holland)
 
I burst into tears feeling overwhelmed and in disbelief. Not only had I spent the entire day thinking about the camino, I had also spoken  with my friend from Barcelona for the first time in a long while, and now I was receiving this message from Ineke. It seemed to me, that the energy I was putting out into the Universe was that exact kind of Camino magic we had felt on the trail–pure love. Her message came to me in a time of self-doubt and transition as if to say, “Remember how strong you are? Remember how far you’ve come? Remember all of that trust you’ve cultivated?” Her message shouted to me to keep my heart open and to proceed slowly with alert awareness of my surroundings. If I do, it seems, the magical lessons and gifts will keep presenting themselves for me; there will be more peace, more generosity, more kindness, and above all more love. These are the real things of value I want to gather in around me, because with them, I can make my own magic straight from the divine source . 
 
Grateful to Ineke and her timely reminder of the Camino’s magic. Lots of love to you and your son, my dear! 
 
 

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