Birds are amazing creatures. Seemingly connecting heaven and earth, the human and Divine. Inviting us to spread our wings in order to reach new heights, embracing what we can see and what we can't.
Birds were very much a part of my journey across Spain.
The cuckoo bird that showed up any time we were struggling--with sickness, pain, or doubt.
The vultures that circled overhead, hoping we would give up in the Pyrenees.
Small birds with large voices and large birds that were silent. Some that floated easily on the wind, and others that struggled against it.
One man told me that he walked the Camino during a particularly hot summer and didn't hear a single bird on his journey. I don't know that I went a single moment without one making itself known.
And of course the stork. Nesting on every church top in northern Spain. "The one that brings babies" everyone called it, regardless of the country they were from or the language they spoke. The perfect symbol for what we all hoped to gain from our walk--new life, rebirth, awakening.
The stork returns to its nest, year after year, to raise its young. Just like we all returned home, after walking, to begin the process of raising up whatever new insights were birthed inside of us.
I even came home to the promise of two new turtledoves.
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