Ouch.

The lactic acid has built up in my shoulders in back, and it feels so great to sit down. Today we backpacked about 14 miles from Sarria to Portomarín, trekking through verdant pastureland all the way through. The Camino winds through neighborhoods and longside farms -- so it is intimately connected to the community here. We know where we're going because small yellow painted arrows mark each intersection and point the way to Santiago. As they sometimes require a good eye to find, these markers are very gentle signs of the right direction. There's a mystical quality to them that I'm starting to appreciate.

This morning we anointed each other's eyes and ears with holy oil that Kerry brought with her. We blessed each other's eyes so that we may perceive the gifts along the way. We blessed each other's ears so that we may listen carefully. . . to each other, to the world around us, and most importantly to our own hearts.

At the outset of our walking, I pondered a poem with Anna and Celeste. It was a gift from Ann, written by John O'Donohue, and reflects some of the spirit of this pilgrimage:

A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you'll discover
More of hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.

Along the route, we have met so many pilgrims from different parts of the world: from the UK, Germany, Canada, France, Spain, the U.S.A., and other nations that I'm too exhausted to recall right now. We all have the common goal of reaching Santiago, as well as the more far-reaching goal of learning about ourselves during this journey. With each stretch of the journey, I feel like we are shedding. We are shedding those extra pieces of clothing and those books that weigh down our backpacks, and we are shedding the weight of the world that weighs down our Selves. And we become more and more like the other pilgrims around us.

Today Celeste and I stopped to talk with a man working in his garden. He used to work as a post officer in Galicia, but now enjoys life in the home that he grew up in. We greeted each other with such genuine peace and good spirits, although we were perfect strangers. He asked about us and our group, and then he asked about President Obama. This man in the Galician countryside, a land dominated by cows and sheep and tractors, is aware of our politics. And how do our politics affect people like Eduardo in Galicia? Have we even stopped to think about that?

It is time to debrief with each other and rest before our big day tomorrow. We have blistered feet and aching backs, but are ready to take on the longest and most difficult day of our journey. Plus, it looks like it will be raining for the next few days. Each day brings with it an added challenge, and we are ready. Not as rested as we'd like to be, but we are ready.