The Meseta

The Meseta is infamous on the Camino. It’s just miles and miles of wheat fields in a vast expanse of land with little else other than the long, straight path ahead. Some pilgrims refuse to walk it and take transport. It’s just too much. Others say it’s a good time for reflection. I couldn’t see that it would be a problem for me. At least there are no hills! At first I felt that it didn’t seem that different. There were still trees and some windmills in the distance. But after awhile the vast emptiness became overwhelming. I slowly became filled with a deep sadness. But I also felt a deep love. I felt deeply sad and then deeply loved. It’s hard, really, to express. 

I set an intention when I started the Camino, which seems like ages ago now, to use this pilgrimage as a time to allow for grieving. I’ve always felt that after Damon died I couldn’t let myself really grieve completely. I just had to move on and survive. So I set this intention and then started the Camino without giving it much more thought. One day, about 2 weeks ago, I was walking with a Spanish woman I’d just met and we were sharing our histories. She asked me about my husband and when I started to tell her that he’d died I burst into tears. It took me totally by surprise. The poor woman thought she’d said the wrong thing and started to apologize, but I explained how many years had passed and about setting my intention and thanked her profusely for asking. The Camino was working on me. She totally understood and I am grateful for her being there. She was leaving the next day and I’ll probably never see her again, but she was a Camino angel for me that day. I took her photo.