A Short Update
I fear I have waited too long to post. Though I have been preoccupied, I have always had time to write. Unfortunately, I have had little incentive or compulsion to post. You see, I have found someone very special who loves to hear my stories and seems to appreciate them all, so the main reason I started this blog has been fulfilled. However, I will try to post here and there when I have the ability to focus.
Also, I was supposed to start posting about the details of my pilgrimages. It was harder than I imagined, as there were many details to describe, many of which I have to actually research. I have no problem doing this for reports at work, but I find it incredibly difficult to sustain focus on my own projects. I am sorry for this. Maybe if I pretend people are waiting to read the next installment I can summon the willpower to post more often. We shall see!
A Poem For Your Reading Pleasure
As you can tell from the post title, this is all about fears we may face on our journeys. I will tell you of a time I was struck by fear during a night in an abandoned monastery. Maybe you can imagine what haunted me that evening seven years ago. Read my poem and find out!
(This poem is based on Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse. To read it properly, pause a bit at the long space in the middle of each line and at the end of each line. Of course, if there is punctuation, follow that.)
The Abandoned Monastery
There lies a path picturesque but perilous Called the Camino de Santiago or Camino for short; The Way of Saint James for English speakers. Pilgrims walk towards the west of the world To the city of Santiago de Compostela 5 Where the bones of Saint James the apostle of Christ sleep. Then some follow further to Finisterre Where the earth ends and eternal waters emerge. Here is one traveller’s tale which tells of a time He made a chilling choice and was chastened for it. 10 Though he overcame the outrageous ordeal The memory of it still remains in his mind. After many miles of marching through mud A young man yawned yearning for rest. Sleepily stumbling he sought shelter and safety 15 In a corner of the Camino called Cornellana. He hoped to hide in a hotel or hostel From the cold night. Now evening neared, and no one Greeted the weary wanderer with a warm welcome; For few visitors would venture a voyage here 20 During winter weather windy and wet. Spring and summer were the sweeter seasons. Turning towards a little-used track the young man travelled To a broken building battered and beaten By sleet and sun. Slowly the sojourner 25 Approached the ancient abode, an abandoned abbey At the furthest tip of town. Tonight he would end the day’s toil, Forcing himself into fitful slumber within the forsaken monastery. Passing the courtyard entrance in early evening The young man looked upon a looming limb of shadow 30 Set by the abbey’s steeple in the setting sun. Broken windows watched warily, wind whistling within While grey stones lay silent scheming among themselves. Inside the young man’s head churned hints of haunted halls Where terrible spirits tormented his thoughts. 35 Distraught but not yet defeated he discovered the door To a hidden hall for hikers. It was here he would sleep Until the sun rose, and, rejuvenated from rest, The young man could continue his Camino. Despite the darkness he darted through the door 40 Into a peculiar place where no people were present. Many bunk beds there were bearing thick blankets And fluorescent lamps flickered on flooding all in white; Lacking even a lonely window for natural light to leak in. This space was a modern miracle unlike the musty monastery, 45 Which was old and odious overcome by age; Yet it nurtured a nasty nature born from years of neglect. Better here than the bare outdoors the young man believed As he ate and attended to all his ailments. At last, clean and cozy he clambered into bed 50 Though fearful he was fatigued and fell into fitful repose. The young man slept soundly until his soul was shaken. From slumber he shot up scared and shaking. The doors had burst asunder from an attack of angry airs For a menace had marched into the monastery. 55 Firmly frozen was he by the unfriendly force; Enthralled by the entity entering the room. At any moment a murderer or madman Would pounce, or perhaps a powerful predator Haggard and hungry would have him for dinner. 60 Stunned into silence the young man stared Beyond the doorway into deadly darkness. The seconds slipped by ever so slowly As he anxiously awaited an end to it all. But no one ever came to claim him captive, 65 Or haunt his waking nightmare with hideous horrors. Little by little his limbs loosened And daring to breathe he brought back life to his body. Rising out of bed and ready to react The young man moved towards the monstrous maw 70 Of the ominous opening to the outdoors. His only weapon was his walking stick Solid and sturdy but not strong or sharp. He nudged his neck into the night Expecting to be enveloped and eaten by enemies. 75 But there were no foes for the young man to fight Nor ravenous beasts roaring with rage. A sudden storm had sprung scouring the earth With wicked winds and whips of lightning While a dismal downpour drowned the land. 80 Though the thunderstorm was thrashing outside The young man’s heart harboured new hope. Wild and wicked weather had wrenched the door wide open Not beasts or burglars nor boogeymen or bandits. Relieved by the revelation he reached for the doorknob, 85 Slammed the door shut and securely set the lock. Time there still was to tumble back into bed And prepare for tomorrow’s path away from this place. Now that the nightmare had been negated The young man was undaunted, until he laid eyes upon the unknown. 90 Only now he realized that in the rear of the room There was another door disguised in the dark Which led closer to the centre of the cavernous convent. As frightening as the first fear had been It was nothing like this newer threat. 95 To close this door he must delve deeper, Plunging further inside this perilous place. Shocked, the young man stared into his soul. His will wavered and he felt weak, As his heart grew heavy with hopelessness. 100 Though the storm had not stopped only silence could be heard From the vacant veil filling his vision. Step by shaking step the young man shifted Towards the terrible darkness and the terrors that lay hid All the while imagining what awaited him within. 105 Robbers and ruffians he was now ready to resist But devils and demons dismayed him with dread. Groping in the gloom the young man grasped The knob of the door to knock out the night. Before he could bar the way a bolt of lightning 110 Assaulted the abbey filling all the air With a flash of light, forcing the darkness to flee. For a mere moment the young man saw Revealed to him all reverence in ruin. The grated stained glass could no longer guard 115 Against the whims of wanton weather. The pews and podiums had been pounded to dust, While carven sculptures had cast cold glances Upon the loathsome ashes with lidless eyes. The stone pillars gleamed with pale power 120 In the evanescent electric light, Their topmost turrets trembling with the thunder. For hundreds of years these halls had not heard People professing their prayers to heaven, Nor hallowed hymns of heavenly praise; 125 Only the constant creaking of callous time kept company. Though the illusion was illuminated for only an instant, For the young man, the majesty and misery Of the scene before him was too baleful to bear. Seeking safety he slammed the door shut 130 Then placed chairs in piles across the passageway So spirits would tumble if they sought after his soul. Leaving the lights on he leapt into bed And huddling under covers he hoped beyond hope That he could fall asleep and would awaken again 135 In the sweet embrace of soothing sunlight. The minutes passed by without mention of menace As heartbeat slowed and head healed from horror. Oppressed by the ordeal sleep overcame him, This lonely young man, who, looking to lie down, 140 Searched for shelter and security In an ancient and abandoned abbey. Meekly the sun rose on a misty morning. Amazed to awaken unharmed and alive The young man mused that this must be a miracle! 145 Surveying the scene he saw the doors still shut While the chairs continued to crowd the closely guarded hallway. Though refreshed from rest he registered no relief From the dark dangers dwelling behind the doors. He swiftly prepared to depart from this place 150 That had tricked him and tormented his thoughts. With baggage packed and belly full with breakfast The young man marched out of the monastery Quickly and quietly to continue his quest On the Way of Saint James to the field of stars, 155 The city of pilgrims, Santiago de Compostela.
The Monastery of San Salvador in Cornellana, Spain
According to Wikipedia, the monastery was founded in 1024 by the daughter of King Bermudo II of León, making it almost a thousand years old. However, most of the existing monastery was built in sections over the following centuries. The specific history of the building can be found here (in Spanish).
Though it was not my preferred place to sleep that night, a number of circumstances brought me there. First, I arrived in the town of Cornellana at sunset, so it was a logical place to stop for the night. Second, the monastery was an albergue, or at least part of it was. The pilgrims’ bedroom and the kitchen were relatively clean and modern, so I assumed they were safe to use. These were located around the courtyard, and not the dilapidated church front in the above picture. Third, my previous experiences with albergues led me to believe that a caretaker or hospitallero would come by to sign me in and give me a quick tour of the place. This did not happen. By the time I realized no one was coming, it was too late to leave and search for a hotel. I was stuck there alone.
At this point there was no fear in my heart, only regret that I would not have a warm meal for dinner. Still, I made the most of my time there. I took a nap, ate some of my supplies for dinner, and attempted to wash some clothes with nothing but some detergent and the washroom sink. Despite the stereotypical location, the thought of ghosts or spirits had not yet popped into my head. (This incident happened before my encounter with the horses in the blizzard, which I wrote about previously.)
Fear of the Unknown
Fear is something that all people experience. Many of us have common fears , such as a fear of heights, spiders, or needles. Some of us have very specific and strange fears, such as a fear of weird shapes, wide open spaces, or clowns. However, I am sure that there are things out there in the world that we would fear, if we only knew about them. And for me, I discovered that sleeping in an abandoned monastery during a thunderstorm was one of those things.
So what can we do about our fear of the unknown? One thing you cannot do is stay home and hide forever. I imagine this is especially the case if you are claustrophobic. Jokes aside, never taking any risks to avoid potential dangers sounds like a very sad and dull way to live. Firstly, one would miss out on all the joys of life outside of one’s doorsteps, whether they would like social interactions, or exploring new places, or just learning new things. Secondly, without engaging in something new there is no growth, and if a creature does not grow, is it really alive?
This sounds like social commentary on COVID-19 lockdowns, does it not? That is because they both deal with the idea of staying safe versus taking a risk. You have probably heard the phrase “an abundance of caution” many times since these lockdowns began. If we lived by that mantra then we would be paranoid neat-freaks living in a bubble. This is hardly a way to live, but if some choose to do so, then by all means let them. However, for the rest of us to live and grow we must venture out into the world.
How To Take The First Step Past Fear
So what can we do to lessen our fear of the unknown? This is difficult, especially since the unknown is by definition, not known. But one way to do this is to be resilient and capable. When I went on my pilgrimages, I did not know what I was really getting into. However, I was healthy, fit, reasonably well-equipped, adaptable, and I knew where I wanted to go and in which general direction to go. That does not mean I was carefree and blissful in my ignorance, only that I could recover from my fear in time to deal with the issues that popped up during my journey. And trust me, there were many!
So how does one become more resilient and capable? I do not have a simple answer, except that one should try new things. Let us say you are the world’s best swimmer. That experience has some general benefits, like excellent physical fitness, an ability to swim fast, and maybe a degree of diligence and focus. But will your adept swimming skills help you assemble IKEA furniture? Study for a biology test? Create a mobile app? Probably not (though I would not know for sure since I’m not a world-class swimmer). Also, I am not a psychiatrist, so take my words with lots of salt!
In short, we face our fears by living life. Our experiences ready us for the next challenge, which in turn allow us to understand ourselves better and give us confidence in our abilities, whatever they may be. And hopefully I will soon undertake my next challenge, to post more often!
To live is to be challenged and to grow, although I would prefer to do so without sleepless, stormy nights in thousand-year-old monasteries. Thankfully, I have the author to do that for me, hehe~
I’m looking forward to reading more about your journeys, both the old and the new!
Thank you for your reply, Kat. I hope to tell you and everyone more about my journeys, sooner rather than later!