July 7, 2015 (Day 43 of my Camino)

Being human, at some points in our lives we all face the abyss of the incomprehensiblity of the universe and our place in it. I've been afflicted with the habit of peeking at it probably way too often for my own good, but it's just who I am. In fact I can pinpoint my first encounter. I was five years old and we had recently moved into our new house on Pilgrim Road in White Plains. I can remember it clearly, lying in the bathtub, the smell of the Ivory Soap floating in the water, the steam on the square blue ceramic tiles, even how white the grout and caulking were. And I started to think about the farthest reaches of the universe. And what came after that? And what came after THAT? And then I switched to time. What came before the universe? And before that? And what comes after the end? But there is no end! And so on and so forth. My first encounter with the ungraspable notion of infinity. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and I can still feel that palpable sense of vertigo and wonder.

Over time this sense of not being able to understand the most fundamental concepts of existence became a central part of my world view. I tried talking to friends about it but soon realized it was not a topic a lot of kids liked to talk about. As a teenager and in my college days I thought if I could just read the right philosopher, or the right religious text, or really understand the concept of the theory of relativity, or really get high level math, that I'd find the key that would unlock the secrets. I read philosophy, I read Einstein, I read about Zen Buddhism, I looked further into Judaism, I read Nietszche instead of doing my homework, but no answers appeared. I learned meditation, dabbled in yoga, took psychedelics, read all sorts of literature, traveled to exotic countries. It made me who I am, but I got no closer to the answers. Religion seemed directed at people who were capable of believing in things without evidence, physics kept changing its approach every few years, philosophers seemed to be playing with words. For years I felt angst about not being able to find the answers I hoped for, but finally I accepted the fact that maybe we're just not equipped to get there.

I say all this as preface to the inevitable question as to what have I learned on this Camino. Of course I'll have to let it sink in over time before I know for sure. I didn't come looking for answers, I came to have the experience of walking across Spain and to drink in as much as I possibly could. I've done that and it's been wonderful. The one thing I can say I've learned for sure is that my feet can hurt in more ways and more places than I ever thought possible. Other than that, it has just reinforced what I've already thought: Embrace it all. Embrace the not knowing and the not being able to know, embrace the seedy entrances to cities as well as the great cathedrals, embrace life. Make and look at art, make and listen to music, read and write, love and be as good as I can to the people in my life.

I realize I risk sounding way too lofty here, but what the hell, I've just walked 500 miles and I've had way too much sun.

I'm here, I made it, Santiago looks like a beautiful city to explore, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do the next several days. I'm flying to Madrid on the 12th and back to Boston on the 14th. And of course after that my journey continues.

Of course I'll keep posting my musings and photographs, but this brings to an end my Camino journal. I want to thank my friends and family for indulging my thoughts, and I especially want to thank all those who have made so many wonderful comments, given such great feedback, and "liked" so much stuff. It made me feel connected while being on such a solitary journey.