Time Flies

September 14 2018. When I started this journey and this blog I imagined long relaxed evenings updating, chatting to friends, sharing stories, drawing in my journal.

The reality is that by the time I have walked between 20-30km the body is sore and tired, the mind is going ‘oh goddess, do I have to get out of bed tomorrow?’ And my art journal remains in the bottom of the bag while I shovel in fuel for tomorrow and curl up in tonight’s bed.

So with the lack of updates, we are now in a small place on the high plains called Castrojeriz. We are in the old part and the actual town is 15 minutes away.

We have realised that the Camino follows the old roads and trails, winding through the countryside, up and down stony hills and through old cobbled streets of the towns. It is like walking through history. I have grown to hate the roads and sealed paths and sigh with relief when I see a rocky track ahead of me and my sore feet echo the sigh as they embrace the uneven dirt and stones, rolling across some kind of weird reflexology as I walk.

Spain is a very Catholic country and the cathedrals and churches are magnificent. Quietly pleased that the ceilings haven’t caved in on me yet, my Presbyterian upbringing is in awe of the gold and glitter, statues and saints that abound here. I find I still prefer the small plain chapel’s, the quiet hominess of them.

I have not been in churches for many years having left the construct man has put around religion and moved more to a quiet belief in the holy and following the path of the Goddess or Holy Mother. The beauty of the churches here, from Chartres and Lourdes to tiny Spanish towns, is the presence, front and centre of the Holy Mother in the form of Mariam or Mary.

Ok talking about my inner beliefs was never meant to be a part of this writing but there it is, falling out when I least expect it.

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I live and work in a beautiful place with a river and beach and the wild west coast. Having grown up without a TV, as a family we read a lot. This lead to me writing a lot which in turn lead to a habit of writing poetry to make sense of my world. My grandmother painted. Lovely oils and water colours which she encouraged me to try. For many years I did very little, life was not conducive to creativity until came a time when life turned on its head and suddenly I found expression in creativity with the Intentional Creativity method taught by Shiloh Sophia McCloud in her Color of Women training. So here I am, writer, artist, ritual maker showing my offerings to the world.

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