Although I’d spent a wonderful night with the Gospel singers and the Magician, I woke in turmoil. I felt this inescapable need to run. To get some release, to find a way to drill through what I was feeling.
My entire life I’ve struggled to deal with my emotions. To accept them and even understand what they are when I feel them. This had become increasingly difficult since my husband had left me. My counsellor had commented to me that it took me over two months to even acknowledge I was sad and she had been worried that I was getting to a stage she would have to drop me as a client as I would never deal with the breakdown of my marriage. My typical response after my husband left me was, I’m awesome. I’m so free now. I don’t have to compromise. Or to the question, how are you feeling? Well work was really tiring today, I’ve had to fly to the states again at short notice. On this first and only time I cried in front of my counsellor it was when I had a vivid dream of my ex. He’d turned into a monster and had been trying to invade my personal space and hurt me. And I felt so sad that after 13 years together we would never even really talk again. Even my subconscious thought of him as a monster now.
And a few months later, here I was with the Magician. Whom I’d felt more connected to that I’d ever felt with my husband. On the first day we met each other we could take the words out of each other’s mouths. He would think something, and I would have the same thoughts in my mind. If he wasn’t with me, we are able to feel how the other felt. And all I could do was fear it will happen again. I will be left alone, everyone leaves me. So I physically ran, trying to drain the energy of my body. So that if I physically ran, it would reduce the fear driven need to run completely from a relationship with the Magician. It was here that I cried for the first time in months. The tears ran slowly down my face as the cold morning air soothed me. The river views in Cahor calming my sadness. But the pit in my stomach remained, the shame of crying burning bright in my heart.
Now physically speaking, this a dumbass move. Running 5k, then trying to walk 32k to Montcuq. So yes, you’ve got it. The Magician and I started walking late out from Cahor, to spend the night with our friend the Gospel singer. The walk was now in beautiful 20 plus degrees of sunshine. The track was dusty and red then leading us out on to roads. As we reached later in the day we stopped to get food to cook with at the Gite we were staying in. But quickly afterwards found we couldn’t walk further. My legs were hurting and I needed to stop. It was at this point that I saw the challenges that drew the Magician to the Camino. The question about what he was meant to do with his life. The difficulties he had from not feeling like he was enough, that he had to evolve beyond himself. It was at this point I felt completely lost in how to help. The majority of my family suffers with depression to varying degrees. This isn’t a subject we openly talk about, other than to compare anti- depressants. If we do, its quickly skirted over and we never talk about how to over come this. The only thing that I felt that I could draw on was my own journey I’d begun in May 2015. Where it was the first time I’d admitted to myself I had an eating disorder. And part of the need to obsessively compulsively eat, was drawn from what my counsellor had described as an empty well. I then spent the next two years trying to fill my empty well myself through small acts of self-love. This would be to have a bath, because I was a loved person. I deserved to have a bath. It would be to treat myself to a nice coffee. Because I was worth giving the time and money to, to enjoy sitting and drinking a nice coffee. I started to make small steps of progress towards loving myself, but the habits from my eating disorder were so deeply engrained in my relationship with my husband, at this point I wasn’t able to overcome this. I talked the Magician through this idea and some of it resonated with him. But the question of what to do with his life continued to burn deeply.
After getting our one and only taxi on the Camino to Montcuq I had one of my most magically evenings on the Camino. When we arrived at the Gite late in the afternoon, our friend still hadn’t arrived. We tried to call, but as our friend’s mobile had run out of battery we couldn’t get hold of him. As the sun started setting the Gite owner said we could borrow his car to drive around and try and find him. So we jumped into the old Beatle and headed off in search of the Camino path. Here having driven into the middle of nowhere, the sun was settling in a soft pink and orange across the sky and a deer ran through the fields as we watched. Still with no sign of the Gospel singer we went to the other Gite in Montcuq to see if he’d gone to the wrong one. It was here I met two French women who I’d met on my first night on the Camino. These women were like my Aunties. They grilled me about my entire life the first time I met them. Which is impressive, considering we can’t speak each other’s language! Here they told the Magician and I that they knew we’d found each other again (but they’d wanted to see us again to know the end of the story for certain). And they laughed seeing us bounding around together. The gruffer of the two said she’d known the minute I introduced her to the Magician in Conques that I loved him. These two women were an important part of the Magician’s and my story. But I won’t go into that here! Needless to say we got a call that our friend had arrived at the Gite and we went running back. Me, exceptionally happy that our friend was safe, and that I’d been able to see my French Aunties one last time.
Our friend wasn’t able to get his car home the next day so he was going to spend the day in Montcuq. The Magician and I quickly agreed to spend the next day with him there. Having the rest day in Montcuq we spent the day eating lunch at a pub, wondering the old streets, and sunbathing on the beach at the small lake there. Now Montcuq translates into My Ass in English. And needless to say its mandatory to make a LOT of jokes about being in my ass. In fact its one of the Magician’s favorite jokes. When you ask the question where is my [fill in the blank], ah its in Montcuq would be his response.
During the night, the Gite owner let us have a bonfire in the garden surrounded by tall willowy trees. The Gospel singer and I sang together whilst I watched the Magician out of the corner of my eyes. The Magician’s mission in life to me has always been clear. I see it everyday I’m with him, in the way he instinctively interacts with people. He has these deep intense conversations with people and is quickly able to get them to open up about subjects which are painful and sensitive to them. He also has an affinity with energies. Now I know that not everyone believes in this. I know when I met him I was deeply skeptical. But, the first day I’d met him I was having a lot of problems with my left knee. But he laid his hand over my knee and the pain I’d had from it was enveloped in a gentle warmth that spread through my leg. And the pain disappeared for a significant period of time afterwards. The Magician was sat talking with the Gite owner laying his hand over where he was suffering with back pain. It filled me with a sense of complete peace watching him. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, seeing someone you love using their gifts. To see the beauty of someone giving completely openly of themselves without fear, when the response given back can be negative, skeptical, unkind or accepted in the way it was intended (with love). Afterwards the Magician bounded back to us and we sang deeply into the night. Our chorus of Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah ringing into the star filled night, with firelight flickering its warmth around us.