Ronaldo And Ann From Astorga On A Friday

Hello! As you know if you have been hanging around here for a while Friday’s are reserved for the Caminoheads Bureau Chiefs to give us the scoop. Here is Ronaldo!

Ron in red with visiting pilgrim.
(looks like a selfie)

Ann is my life partner and has been a perfect one for over 46 years. So we find ourselves in Astorga with more time at home than we are used to for the next few weeks and my thoughts today return to writing this blog. Trying to avoid writing about what you just read about and will likely read more about after you comment on this one, I threw it out to Ann, an avid flower/plant/tree/weed lover and she reminded me of how much I loved the sunrise coming up behind me as I walked westward on the Camino. Dark to Light.

I walked during September and the beginning of October and the light was wonderful. I started out in darkness most mornings, sometimes just a little skylight. I got to feel the sun on the back of my head, got to eventually see my shadow and was reminded how predictable that process is. The bible talks about light pretty highly and I appreciate that we can share that inner knowledge. We all can. No education, social position or certificate needed – it is out there for all of us.

I’m going to focus on one aspect of light as Ann suggested: Plants.

Seeds fall off plants, some get eaten by birds, some land on rocky soil which doesn’t support long term growth and some find themselves embedded in good soil. We will skip the thorns for now. Matthew 13 has a man doing the sowing, but plants do it themselves as well in real life.

So this seed that falls on rich soil gets buried by wind, rain, oxen hooves – whatever, and lays dormant for the winter in the dark. Dark is important. The dark is the thing that makes light so unique. If it is dark and one enters with a candle, there is light. No amount of dark can eliminate that sign of new life.

And then the days get longer, the same sun that warmed my back and cast a shadow of my body along the path warms up that soil and begins that germination stage. And slowly a root goes downward and a shoot goes upward and daily the light returns to serve as warmth and light to enable that tiny seed to grow. But there is a period of dark between those sunrises. It is not an error, it is a necessary part of the cycle.

You know where this is going – that tiny seeds ends up being a plant of significant proportions, producing shade, or edible green parts or fruit or beautiful flowers – and more seeds. Animals eat some of them, people eat some, we harvest and display decorative plants too. And again some of the seeds hit the ground and some of them repeat this cycle. So it is in life that adding light to a cold or dim situation can spur creation anew. Tiny things that you plant can become significant sources of sustenance to others. Both the dark time and the light time are part of this cycle.

Back to the Camino, that wonderful daily experience of the light. So simple. Nothing difficult about it, other than getting up and getting on the Way. It repeats every day, warm, germination of relationships or understanding of life’s mysteries or healing of one’s bones. In our case, we put down roots in Spain and are waiting to see how our shoots get used. Do you recall this feeling I describe?

So you are sitting in your home reading this blog and maybe not able to appreciate that sunrise cycle so much with a lot of man-made lights around. I encourage you to get up early and watch, or better yet feel, the sunrise 21 days in a row. Dark to Light. Be thinking of all the non-visual work that light is also doing – warming soil, encouraging men and animals to walk the earth, starting that germination process in the wild and even killing off the plants of seeds that landed on rocky soil. Enabling beautiful flowers and buds to display creation. It is really something. Yes, it does contribute to your having to cut the grass all summer too.

So creation teaches by example, demonstrating the lesson for all to see. The birds get their share, some seeds are on that rocky soil and just don’t get it, some are engulfed by weeds and in time might see the light, others are fortunate to experience the good-soil life.

I encourage us all to take a deep breath and take note of the good that can come out of this difficult time of changed routines.

Be in the light, and the dark, and see what germinates. May it be beautiful, nourishing and plant seeds for the next generation. And may you notice it!

In germinating love,

Ron
————————————–

NOTE: Two books that you might add to the reading list this month are Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor and All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. I happened to read these two together in 2016 before my Camino walk and maybe the next time I get to share with you I’ll tell the amazing story of how reading those books found a way to enhance my pilgrimage.

============================================================================

Ron Angert in beautiful Astorga, Spain

5 thoughts on “Ronaldo And Ann From Astorga On A Friday”

  1. Thank You Ron and Ann for this well written blog.

    Psalms 121, one of my favourites, comes to mind during these challenging times.

    “I to the Hills Will Lift Mine Eyes”.

    It is indeed most important to experience the warm Sun on our backs knowing that this is the first of many wonderful events to unfold each day.

    God Bless.

    William.

    1. Thank you William for bring that thought from Ps 121 to our attention. Keeping your eyes up is one of the keys to Well-Being book that likely will never get finished.
      I wish you well in your days ahead, feel the light! See the light!

      Ronaldo

  2. Dear Ron,

    wow… what a wonderful post… I am truly loving this kind gift that Phil has given us to write and be read by others… I was in the west of Ireland in 2017 for the first time, and visited the burren, this limestone valley… where you could think that nothing can grow there, but instead, there are like 100 varieties of the most tender flowers growing in the crevices… which is such a powerful image… in the roughest of the situations, something beautiful still can unravel…

    And like you, I do think that all we learn to know is present in the landscape, the rhythms of the day, the light and the dark… there is just so much that we miss locked in our cars or offices, in front of the screens, and rushing through the day…

    Somehow, these days, we do have this chance to slow down… May we are able to do it.

    Un abrazo a la distancia, Loves,
    Cris

    1. Thank you, Cris. Reading your contributions always thrills me and at the same causes me to unable to use words so well. I’ve got this disconnect between things that can be communicated with words and those things that must be communicated experientially. Anyway, we have wander around the burren some as well so I know what you are talking about.
      Hugs and love to you and yours

  3. The other person in the the picture is Stanislav, a Ukrainian pilgrim and refugee, who is homeless and currently in León trying to wait out the closing of the Camino and the stay at home order. He needs our prayers.

Comments are closed.