The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes. ~Frank Lloyd Wright

One of my intentions while walking the Camino was to let go of my underlying fear that there’s not enough and lean into the notion that all I need will be provided in good time. Coming from the Midwest where self-sufficiency, independence, and hard work are core values, it felts a bit irresponsible and even scary to consider letting down my guard. But vigilance is exhausting and anxiety producing so a new approach made a lot of sense. As mentioned in an earlier post, I carried a rock with the word Abundance on one side and Scarcity on the other – symbolic of my fifty-fifty chance of giving into my fear or developing my trust. The rock reminded me I had a choice in the matter, one I needed to make daily or sometimes moment-by-moment.

It’s not just a case of seeing the glass half empty or half full but waking up to the fact that the glass is overflowing with possibilities. To know this in my head was one thing, but to know it in my being took a lot of walking. Every so often I would touch my stone and rub my thumb across its smooth surface, as if to remind myself of my choice. Mostly it stayed in a velvet pouch tucked into my backpack accompanied by folded slips of paper that held the prayers and intentions of others. Well, if abundance is something a person wants to experience, there is no better time to walk the Camino than in the fall. Grape vines hung heavy from the weight of ripening fruit, apples, figs, plums and apricots filled tree branches and laid scattered on the ground below, a colorful carpet on the earth. Fertile fields were filled with corn, strawberries, and bright green lettuce leaves.

As Dana and I walked through the rural countryside, we nibbled on crisp kernels of corn, moistened our lips with cool water from a stream, picked grapes that overhung stone retaining walls, and collected figs lying along the side of the road. It was a traveling feast, generously provided by the earth. As we neared the border between Portugal and Spain, a stone marker appeared near a dirt footpath leading into a shaded forest. It had been turned into a mini-shrine where stones and shells laid stacked around the base, mementos from previous pilgrims passing through. It struck me that I was about to enter a new country, leaving Portugal behind. Perhaps I could leave my scarcity fear behind as well. Loosening the drawstrings on my velvet pouch, I pulled my touchstone from the safety of its container and placed it among the other stones, the word abundance facing up. My hope as I crossed the border into Spain was that some invisible line would be crossed within my soul and I would learn how to walk in this new land.

Questions: Is there a new territory within yourself that’s awaiting your exploration? What would it be like to try on a new way of seeing the world? How do you experience abundance?