The Written Word: Notes from Redondela
- Payton Pan
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
Trail Dispatch No. 4 from the Camino de Santiago
The Written Word
can be a lasting and powerful thing. I should hope so, in devoting my thoughts often to these letters, which I handwrite into my journal at cafes or next to some creek, and later on dictate into type. But the word's power is something I have witnessed all over recently, and I am not the only one journaling after arrival at each evening's hostel—in fact, last night I was joined at a table by three other writers. The walls, sometimes, at these hostels, or even above trailside benches, get covered by written notes tacked up for passers-by to read. I like this idea of getting whatever wisdom or melody that currently resides within you to whoever next needs some small moment of inspiration. Like one this morning that I needed after a night next to a LOUD snorer:
“Paradise isn't a place, it's a state of mind.”
And then suddenly my groggy morning steps had brought me into a beautiful white water stream falling around rocks under a constant cool canopy being attacked from all angles by the insistent rising Sun. I decided then that everyone should be receiving from this boundless power of the written word, everyday. My call to action for those reading this isn't to start a journaling habit—I know how hard that can be or how boring it can seem to non-writers. Instead, try taking one quick moment from your day or from yesterday, and make it momentous, write it down as if it was a life-changing moment (it was), as if everyone wants to know about it. I'll add a few examples of this from my recent days, but do not discount them as part of some cool, rare trip—I assure you that I have done this in the past with how efficiently breakfast came together, or after the perfect line of ants marched past me. But, in sticking with this series' topic:
Saturday, May 16
“Walking along Redondela under setting sun light, the stream beside me caught my ear. When my eyes followed, I saw across the clear water a stone railing covered over with purple flowers, and small white blossoms running along underneath it, perfectly. I was stunned enough to stop and notice how the rail ran, just a few steps up the path, past a small curve in the stream where it transitioned into alcoving slightly over the water (with flowers now hanging liberally in airy draft) so beautifully that I couldn't decide which section was better, where I should stop my body for a moment's gratitude. In a world where I could have bowed to each, to every thousandth blossom on the railing, I would have. In some world where I can timelessly return, to give each the moment its due, I will.”
Sunday, May 17
“The man I met in the Churros line, clearly eager to discuss my travels, invited me back to his family's table so that his wife might be able to translate for us. Between her limited English, my limited Spanish, and some fun charades, I learned that he had previously done the Camino on bicycle, and told them about my trip so far. I was given food recommendations, and a bagged snack for tomorrow's coffee, a traditional Spanish snack. I met the man's cousin and his cousin's wife who were also at the table, and we shared, over some licor-cafe, faith in friendship again. The man taught me that we are all the same, what happens to me happens to his family, and a single one of their smiles is happiness for us all. In exchange, I taught his son some English, over the phone.”
The ocean is one of the few beings as boundless as the word, and it has thankfully reappeared, after my strolling across Spanish wine country for a day or two, for one last goodbye. Villanova de Arousa is my last seaside town of the trip, where later this morning I will begin up the Ulla River to Padron, one of the last notable towns before Santiago. I expect to be very near Santiago by the time I write my next letter, and until then, I wish everyone the awe-full energy of the written word.
-Payton
Previous: Turning Inward: Notes from the Minho
Editor's outro
Payton is walking the Camino de Santiago for three weeks in exchange for trail dispatches. New entries appear every Tuesday and Friday. If his reflections resonate with you, you may want to explore our nature-informed practice training, where we teach clinicians to bring this kind of slow attention into their therapeutic work.
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