SummerSimo Travel Troubles Notes and The Purring Page

Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.

In the quiet moments of December, under the soft glow of flickering candles and amidst the gentle rustle of turning calendar pages, I found myself tracing the outlines of dreams not yet realized, of paths not yet taken. Each year, like a ritual, I penned down my aspirations with the hope that this time, the year would not end with the same unfulfilled desires. At the heart of my list, written in ink slightly bolder than the rest, was the Pilgrimage to Compostela—a journey I yearned to undertake, not for religious reasons, but as a quest for something elusive that seemed to slip through my fingers with each passing day: peace, normality, and simplicity. It stayed there, unmarked, not due to neglect but because it was a goal sprinting ahead, sparkling and lighting the way for my future steps, always just a bit beyond my grasp.

My life was a journey in itself, marked by the countless steps I took in my job that led me through breathtaking landscapes, under canopies of whispering leaves, and along the banks of murmuring streams. The beauty of these places was undeniable, yet the tranquility of the environment starkly contrasted with the turmoil within me. Each step was a reminder of the distance between my reality and the yearning deep in my heart.

The job that promised adventure had become a tether, each assignment a chain that pulled me further away from the pilgrimage I sought. I walked through forests and climbed hills, my eyes capturing the beauty, but my heart feeling none of it. The irony wasn’t lost on me; I walked every day, yet the walk that mattered most remained untouched, a distant dream fueling my journey yet always out of reach.

As another year drew to a close, I sat by a window watching the snow gently blanket the world in white, the serene quietness of the scene outside mirroring the peace I sought. It was then that the realization dawned on me—the pilgrimage I yearned for wasn’t just a physical journey but an inner quest to find the simplicity and normality in the life I already led.

With the first light of the new year, I set out not on the well-trodden paths to Compostela but on a different kind of journey. I began to find joy in the small things: the warmth of the sun as it broke through the canopy, the laughter of a stream as it tripped over rocks, the silent companionship of the trees that stood as sentinels along my path.

I learned to leave behind the weight of unmet expectations and to embrace the beauty of the present moment. My job, once a source of discontent, became the canvas on which I painted moments of peace and simplicity. I discovered that the pilgrimage I sought didn’t require a journey to distant lands but a rekindling of the wonder for the world around me.

And so, my story unfolded not on the well-marked trails to Compostela but on the paths I walked every day. I found that the pilgrimage was not about reaching a destination but about the transformation that occurred within, a journey marked not by the miles traveled but by the simplicity, peace, and normality I found in the life I lived. The unmarked goal of my pilgrimage to Compostela continued to sprint ahead, a beacon sparking my future steps, reminding me that the journey itself is where life’s true treasures lie.