Prompt: Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?
"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."
― Ernest Hemingway
Four days of intermittent walking and I somehow reached an incomparable state of bliss and pleasure in the midst of all the blisters and suffering. Whether what made the peregrination so exquisite was the sense of importance I felt whenever I provided others with what I considered to be viable advice or perhaps the invaluable hours I spent familiarizing myself, nevertheless what generated me such an aura of content will eternally be a mystery. Uncountable were the particularities of said journey that pinpointing a specific reason to the enchanting atmosphere would mean decomposing the whole of the scenery.
Regardless of the fact that I don't consider the landscape to be the core reason as to why I felt so alleviated during the peregrination, there is no denying the ceaseless beauty of the trails. Whether the days were obscure or radiant was impossible to tell thanks to the roof of greenery that towered over our heads intermittently, minute rays of sunlight seeping their way through the canopy as the wind shook the leaves that sheltered us. As I strolled on the unpaved roads in the midst of the country, the dirt of the lanes oozed its way into my shoes and stuck to the back of my throat. My ears were filled with nature's harmonious sounds, the occasional rosary being prayed, and more often than not, the playing of a guitar with the voices of those who traveled beside me joining the choir. Infants, adolescents, mothers, fathers, grandparents, ex-rehabbers, ex-convicts, nuns, priests, we walked together and shared the same sporadic emotions, we came together in prayer and cared for one another when in suffering.
As a child I was told that out of the deep depths of misfortune comes bliss. These were words I had never come to comprehend until my walk to San Nicolas. The misfortunes I had to undergo during my journey, the fatigue, the pain, the thirst, the weather, all culminated in an exquisite feeling of satisfaction and pride that were the motivation that kept me going. Some of the pleasure, for instance, came from the perpetual atmospheric feel of companionship that indulged me endlessly and lead me to believe I was part of something otherworldly. As we peregrinated, many anecdotes were swapped and several words of advice and wisdom were bartered amongst us. I remember vividly the emotion of gratification that would sure through me whenever I delivered any set of advice that my companion described as helpful. The mere belief that my words might have provided guidance to another individual filled me with contempt. In my family I am known as 'the wise child', the adviser of most, and fulfilling that same purpose in another environment was an immense delight.
Coming to know who I was, my faults as well as my assets, also contributed to the perfection of the journey. I had several moments of solitude in which I came to understand how others saw me and how I saw myself as well. I uncovered my adventurous personality, the constant inclination I have towards experiencing new escapades. I came to terms with my denial towards situations I consider unjust. It was during this journey when I truly found myself. After seventeen years, I came to know myself in the most profound way possible.
I count the days until the 21st of September, when the peregrination starts. Whenever my day is going south, I try to recall every second of my past journey and its eccentricities. I remember serving water and the grateful expressions; I remember carelessly screaming out of the top of my lungs the pious lyrics whenever a guitar was playing. And so I retain, these invaluable memories that have penetrated themselves into my heart, casting everlasting happiness upon their remembrance.
"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."
― Ernest Hemingway
Four days of intermittent walking and I somehow reached an incomparable state of bliss and pleasure in the midst of all the blisters and suffering. Whether what made the peregrination so exquisite was the sense of importance I felt whenever I provided others with what I considered to be viable advice or perhaps the invaluable hours I spent familiarizing myself, nevertheless what generated me such an aura of content will eternally be a mystery. Uncountable were the particularities of said journey that pinpointing a specific reason to the enchanting atmosphere would mean decomposing the whole of the scenery.
Regardless of the fact that I don't consider the landscape to be the core reason as to why I felt so alleviated during the peregrination, there is no denying the ceaseless beauty of the trails. Whether the days were obscure or radiant was impossible to tell thanks to the roof of greenery that towered over our heads intermittently, minute rays of sunlight seeping their way through the canopy as the wind shook the leaves that sheltered us. As I strolled on the unpaved roads in the midst of the country, the dirt of the lanes oozed its way into my shoes and stuck to the back of my throat. My ears were filled with nature's harmonious sounds, the occasional rosary being prayed, and more often than not, the playing of a guitar with the voices of those who traveled beside me joining the choir. Infants, adolescents, mothers, fathers, grandparents, ex-rehabbers, ex-convicts, nuns, priests, we walked together and shared the same sporadic emotions, we came together in prayer and cared for one another when in suffering.
As a child I was told that out of the deep depths of misfortune comes bliss. These were words I had never come to comprehend until my walk to San Nicolas. The misfortunes I had to undergo during my journey, the fatigue, the pain, the thirst, the weather, all culminated in an exquisite feeling of satisfaction and pride that were the motivation that kept me going. Some of the pleasure, for instance, came from the perpetual atmospheric feel of companionship that indulged me endlessly and lead me to believe I was part of something otherworldly. As we peregrinated, many anecdotes were swapped and several words of advice and wisdom were bartered amongst us. I remember vividly the emotion of gratification that would sure through me whenever I delivered any set of advice that my companion described as helpful. The mere belief that my words might have provided guidance to another individual filled me with contempt. In my family I am known as 'the wise child', the adviser of most, and fulfilling that same purpose in another environment was an immense delight.
Coming to know who I was, my faults as well as my assets, also contributed to the perfection of the journey. I had several moments of solitude in which I came to understand how others saw me and how I saw myself as well. I uncovered my adventurous personality, the constant inclination I have towards experiencing new escapades. I came to terms with my denial towards situations I consider unjust. It was during this journey when I truly found myself. After seventeen years, I came to know myself in the most profound way possible.
I count the days until the 21st of September, when the peregrination starts. Whenever my day is going south, I try to recall every second of my past journey and its eccentricities. I remember serving water and the grateful expressions; I remember carelessly screaming out of the top of my lungs the pious lyrics whenever a guitar was playing. And so I retain, these invaluable memories that have penetrated themselves into my heart, casting everlasting happiness upon their remembrance.
Do You Need