The Pilgrimage
5/13/05
3:41 PM
Page 179
The Pilgrimage
when its turn came. I marked its location mentally, and my free hand returned to its search for my salvation. A few inches from the first hold, I found another. There it was! There was the place that for centuries had served as a hold for the pilgrims bound for Santiago. I could see this, and I held on with all my strength. The other hand came free, was thrown back by the force of the water, but, in an arc across the sky, reached and found the handhold. With a quick movement, my entire body followed the path opened by my arms, and I threw myself upward. The biggest and final step had been taken. My whole body came up through the water, and a moment later the savage waterfall had become just a trickle of water, hardly moving. I crawled to the bank and gave in to exhaustion. The sun fell on my body, warming me, and I told myself again that I had won, that I was alive as before when I had stood below in the lagoon. Over the sound of the water, I heard Petrus’s approaching footsteps. I wanted to get up and show how happy I was, but my exhausted body refused. ‘Relax, rest a little,’ he said. ‘Try to breathe slowly.’ I did so and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I awoke, the sun had moved across the sky, and Petrus, already fully dressed, handed me my clothes and said we had to move on. ‘I’m very tired,’ I answered. ‘Don’t worry. I am going to show you how to draw energy from everything around you.’ 179