I was rummaging through some old folders on my hard drive recently when I came upon this fragment of something. It was written a couple of months before I left for France and Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago, possibly part of an old blog entry. What struck me is how these notions can simmer and brew and bubble-up. In the book, rumination about the beginning of things seeded the first sentence of the Introduction and often found its way into the narrative.
Finding myself on the threshold of walking across the north of Spain, I am confronted with certain questions, not the least of which might be to wonder how I came to this in the first place. As with most things in this life, finding the beginning of something is a bit complicated. Regarding a relationship or circumstance, we could consider the start of it to be when we meet someone or when we first experience a situation. But for me, these seem to be arbitrary reference points at best. I am of the belief that nothing of any significance in this life is capricious. There is purpose. There is divine expression with every breath, and it is all quite precise and perfect. Imagine the infinite logistics required to simply draw two people into the same space, or to create an experience of any kind. As humans, we seem to be fundamentally asleep to this sort of thing, but we can have awakenings, and I find myself in the midst of several along the way I go these days. One of significance is the notion that the spiritual self is quite creative of human circumstance. It sees the big picture, and is inherently patient for it knows not of time. It has no difficulty at all with spending a few decades weaving together the threads of a really juicy experience - seems it loves to play with stuff. So here I am with less than 2 months to go before taking a very long walk far from home where the possibilities are limitless. Pretty juicy. Guess it’s time to get arbitrary…
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