Camino Sayings And Quotes

Nothing you love is left behind. You come back to it once you understand it, once you see its essence as it is: pure and flawless - once you refuse to define your life without it. Look into yourself. The only thing you regret in the end is falling for someone's definition of love instead of exploring its infinite potential. It is not saying "I love you" to people who should have heard it from you. There is no flaw in love.

banks and student loan companies had convinced Congress that such debts should be given special protection and not exempted. She remembered him saying, “Hell, even gamblers can go bankrupt and walk away.

What’s up with your hair?’ I ask. ‘Aren’t you worried you’ll be spotted by angels flying above with all that blue?’ ‘War paint,’ says Dee, fastening his seatbelt. ‘Except it’s in our hair instead of on our faces,’ says Dum, starting the engine. ‘Because we’re original like that.’ ‘Besides, are poisonous frogs worried about being spotted by birds?’ asks Dee. ‘Are poisonous snakes? They all have bright markings.’ ‘You’re a poisonous frog now?’ I ask. ‘Ribbit.’ He turns and flicks out his tongue at me. It’s blue. My eyes widen. ‘You dyed your tongue too?’ Dee smiles. ‘Nah. It’s just Gatorade.’ He lifts up a bottle half-full of blue liquid. ‘Gotcha.’ He winks. ‘“Hydrate or Die,” man,’ says Dum as we turn onto El Camino Real. ‘That’s not Gatorade’s marketing,’ says Dee. ‘It’s for some other brand.’ ‘Never thought I’d say this,’ says Dum, ‘but I actually miss ads. You know, like “Just Do It.” I never realized how much of life’s good advice came from ads. What we really need now is for some industrious soul to put out a product and give us a really excellent saying to go with it. Like “Kill ’Em All and Let God Sort ’Em Out.”’ ‘That’s not an advertising jingle,’ I say. ‘Only because it wasn’t good advice back in the day,’ says Dum. ‘Might be good advice now. Attach a product to it, and we could get rich.

I have a friend who often tells me that I am resisting change. Could be... But when I do embrace it, it is quite life-changing, I would say!

The first third of the trip is for the body, the second third for the mind, and the last third for the soul,” the Camino saying goes.

I'm American to the core. So please forgive me if I say some foolish things when I'm overseas. It's my birthright." The Best Way--El Camino de Santiago (2012)

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

As Winnie the Pooh says, ‘How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

And yet, I also understood the need for this journey. To simply say to myself or anyone else, “I am forgiven” or “I forgive” could not shift my past karmic energy as well as walking the Camino. I was walking myself out of trauma and grief and anger and shame and righteous indignation and feelings of worthlessness and over-thinking and every other faulty human perception that blocked the truth of my being from shining through.

1- No des tu apellido, número telefónico o dirección electrónica. 2-Deja que Chloe sepa dónde te reunirás con él y envíale un mensaje cuando estés de camino a casa, así ella sabrá que no has sido drogada con Roofie y secuestrada. 3- No hables de dietas, pérdida de peso o tu loco régimen de gimnasia. 4- Has muchas preguntas e intenta parecer interesada cuando él responda, incluso si es más aburrido que el lodo. 5- Ofrece compartir la cuenta, pero no lo fuerces demasiado. 6- No te entregues. Un beso en la boca es aceptable pero solo usa lengua si una segunda cita ya ha sido acordada. 7-Comprueba todas las salidas en tu entrada, así podrás hacer una rápida escapada mientras él está haciendo pipi. 8-Intenta divertirte un poco.

Of the Poet’s Youth" When the man behind the counter said, “You pay by the orifice,” what could we do but purchase them all? Ah, Sandy, vou were clearly the deluxe doll, modish and pert in your plastic nurse whites, official hostess to our halcyon days, where you bobbed in the doorway of our dishabille apartment, a block downwind from the stockyards. Holding court on the corroded balcony, K. and I passed hash brownies, collecting change for the building’s monthly pool to predict which balcony would fall off next. That’s when K. was fucking M. and M. was fucking J., and even B. and I threw down once on the glass-speckled lawn, adrift in the headlights of his El Camino. Those were immortal times, Sandy! Coke wasn’t addictive yet, condoms prevented herpes and men were only a form of practice for the Russian novel we foolishly hoped our lives would become. Now it’s a Friday night, sixteen years from there. Don’t the best characters know better than to live too long? My estranged husband house-sits for a spoiled cockatoo while saving to buy his own place. My lover’s gone back to his gin and the farm-team fiancée he keeps in New York. What else to do but read Frank O’Hara to my tired three-year-old? When I put him to bed, he mutters “more sorry” as he turns into sleep. Tonight, I find you in a box I once marked “The Past.” Well, therapy’s good for some things, Sandy, but who’d want to forgive a girl like that? Frank says Destroy yourself if you don’t know! Deflated, you’re simply the smile that surrounds a hole. I don’t know anything.

Augustine's feeling of fragmentation has its modern corollary in the way many contemporary young people are plague by a frantic fear of missing out. The world has provided them with a superabundance of neat things to do. Naturally, they hunger to size every opportunity and taste every experience. They want to grab all the goodies in front of them. They want to say yes to every product in the grocery store. They are terrified of missing out on anything that looks exciting. But by not renouncing any of them they spread themselves thin. What's worse, they turn themselves into goodie seekers, greedy for every experience and exclusively focused on self. If you live in this way, you turn into a shrewd tactician, making a series of cautious semicommitments without really surrendering to some larger purpose. You lose the ability to sau a hundred noes for the sake of one overwhelming and fulfilling yes.

Please, Holy Mother God,” I whispered in prayer, “help me cut the invisible cords that bind me, and set me free. Give me the inner strength to let go of all that I have created up until now, on every level, and which no longer reflects the highest path for me, and for those I love and serve. Help calm my more masculine energies so I can settle into my own divine feminine nature and cool the angry fires of hurt and fear that have burned in my heart for so long.” After making my prayerful request, I got up and lit a candle to the Divine Mother, to say “thank you” for hearing me. I was ready to surrender. I knew it was time to release control over my life and let God take over. I spoke my intention aloud: “This life of mine is now finished. My present way is no longer serving me or allowing my greater Spirit to express through me. I ask for the cocoon to break open and free my true divine light. I surrender all attachments on all levels to the past and am now ready for what the Universe has in store for me. And so it is.” At that moment time stood still. I knew my intention was heard and registered by the heavens, and that my request would be honored and met with divine support. I sensed an inner shift take place in me. I didn’t feel euphoric. I didn’t even feel happy. Rather, I felt somber and quiet in spite of the thousand sounds swirling around me, the Universe saying, Okay, get ready. The next morning, I suddenly had a powerful intuitive hit from my Higher Self that said, “Sonia, it is time to heal your life, and the only way to do that is to walk the Camino de Santiago. And go alone.

She awoke in a strange bed in a round room, and for the first few seconds she was afraid to move because any movement would sharpen the pounding in her forehead. Her eyes were burning so she closed them. Her mouth and throat were parched. A gentle rolling in her stomach warned that things might get worse. Okay, a hangover; been here before and survived, could be a long day but, hey, what the hell? No one made her drink too much. Own it, girl. The old saying from college: “If you’re gonna be stupid you gotta be tough.

They said he was buried weeks ago.” I nodded. “Back in July. His mom also passed away right afterward, so that just compounded the family chaos. His sister reckoned she died of a broken heart.” “Tragedy breeds more tragedy,” Martina said, studying the smiling face of Old William in the photograph on top of the shrine. I still couldn’t quite imagine the two of them as an item, but that was love in the end. It could tie you to people you would never expect. “Father Time is undefeated,” I said. “Old William told that to me once. It was why he tried to enjoy his life to the fullest. And live without regrets.” “That’s a nice thing to say,” she said. “But reality is always messier than we would like.

The old saying from college: “If you’re gonna be stupid you gotta be tough.” ​

Remember when I said I was a bit scattered? It wasn’t just when it came to jobs. I had a slew of strange ex-boyfriends, too. There was George, who liked to wear my underwear . . . everyday. Not just to prance around in—he wore them under his Levi’s at work. As a construction worker. That didn’t go over well with his co-workers once they found out. He works at Jamba Juice now. I don’t think anyone cares about what kind of underwear he wears at Jamba Juice. Then there was Curtis. He had an irrational fear of El Caminos. Yes, the car. He just hated them so much that he became really fearful of seeing one. He’d say, “I don’t understand, is it a car or a truck?” The confusion would bring him to tears. When we were walking on the street together, I had to lead him like a blind person because he didn’t want to open his eyes and spot an El Camino. If he did, it would completely ruin his day. He would cry out, “There’s another one. Why, God?” And then he would have to blink seven times and say four Hail Marys facing in a southerly direction. I don’t know what happened to Curtis. He’s probably in his house playing video games and collecting disability. After Curtis came Randall, who will never be forgotten. He was an expert sign spinner. You know those people who stand on the corner spinning signs? Randall had made a career of it. He was proud and protective of his title as best spinner in LA. I met him when he was spinning signs for Jesus Christ Bail Bonds on Fifth Street. He was skillfully flipping a giant arrow that said, “Let God Free You!” and his enthusiasm struck me. I smiled at him from the turn lane. He set the sign down, waved me over, and asked for my phone number. We started dating immediately. He called himself an Arrow Advertising executive when people would ask what he did for a living. He could spin, kick, and toss that sign like it weighed nothing. But when he’d put his bright-red Beats by Dre headphones on, he could break, krump, jerk, turf, float, pop, lock, crip-walk, and b-boy around that six-foot arrow like nobody’s business. He was the best around and I really liked him, but he dumped me for Alicia, who worked at Liberty Tax in the same strip mall. She would stand on the opposite corner, wearing a Statue of Liberty outfit, and dance to the National Anthem. They were destined for each other. After Randall was Paul. Ugh, Paul. That, I will admit, was completely my fault.

understood that there is no then and now, here or there...everything is happening at once and time is not a linear continuum. And I came to believe there are no coincidences. I now understood the saying “the teacher appears when the student is ready.” Often in the most fascinating of ways!

Be yourself and be determined,” he says. “Even if you don’t know what you want, you won’t know if you are not determined.

And love, who can say the way it winds like a serpent in the garden of our untroubled minds (Y el amor, quién sabe qué camino tomará, como una serpiente en el jardín de nuestras mentes calmadas)

I will say that the best places we have stayed so far have been in Uterga, Villamayor de Monjardin and, of course, Ventosa. Lorca is a pretty nice little town and a good stopover, along with Torres del Rio. After

In Belorado we sit outside a cafe, lounging, not saying or doing anything. I feel a pang of impatience, as though to go farthest is the goal of the day, rather than to go fullest.  I have told myself often enough that this is not a race. Whether or not the Camino is a transformation or a cure, a maturation or a ripening, a metamorphosis or a disintegration, it needs time.

​I have taken to thinking that to repent is to recognise that one has changed to the extent that one is no longer the person who committed some past wrong (the butterfly did not eat the cabbage leaf). Forgiveness is to accept that change has happened in another person (I see you’re no longer a caterpillar). ​I don’t think repentance is saying sorry. I don’t think forgiveness is responding to an apology with a ‘that’s OK’. ​I think repentance is when one recognises that one has become another person. ​I think forgiveness is accepting that the one who wronged you no longer exists, and that they are now a different person. ​And so, lying in my bunk, I think about all those ghosts against whom I bear grudges; memories of people who no longer exist. Have they moved on? They must have. Have I? I need to. They are no longer those people. I am no longer the person they knew. I understand that. I accept that. I repent and they are forgiven.

Eckhart Tolle says that the most important quote in the Bible is “Be still, and know that I am God.

In 1942 the government ordered the construction of a perimeter fence around the then-secret Site Y of the Manhattan Project. Consequently, they established an explicit border to distinguish the scientists and army personnel within the fence, atop the Hill, as “insiders,” and the communities outside the fence, below the Hill, as “outsiders.” As a result of the distinction between the Hill and the Valley, Los Alamos has become what Chicana theorist Gloria Anzaldúa (1999) writes of the borderlands region of South Texas: a “place of contradictions” where “hatred, anger and exploitation are the prominent features of this landscape” (19). The Hill-Valley binary is not simply geographic. Chicano literary scholar José David Saldívar (1997) says of topospatial readings such as this one that “the aim of these topospatial readings, it bears some repeating, is to show the profound interactions of space and history, geography and psychology, nationhood and imperialism, and to define space as not just a ‘setting’ but as a formative presence throughout” (79). The U.S. military deliberately constructed this institution, and it continues to overshadow northern New Mexico seventy-five years after the Manhattan Project was instituted on the Pajarito Plateau. The dichotomizing of the Hill and the Valley made objects of the people of New Mexico by enticing them away from land-based lifestyles with well-paying jobs in the nuclear industry, jobs that ultimately sickened, injured, and even killed them by contamination or explosion. In the chapter “Entering into the Serpent” from Borderlands/La frontera: The New Mestiza, Anzaldúa (1999) claims that “in trying to become ‘objective,’ Western culture made ‘objects’ of things and people when it distanced itself from them, thereby losing ‘touch’ with them. This dichotomy is the root of all violence” (59). Nuevomexicanas/os’ ascent up el camino de la culebra, the snake road, is a literal entering into the Anzaldúan serpent. This entering into the serpent is the catalyst for conocimiento, or a coming to consciousness.

Párate enfrente del lobo que sabes que te va a comer... pero te advierto volverás a caer en su juego igual que ayer.” (El Lobo)

Stand in front of the wolf you know is going to eat you... but I warn you, you will fall back into their game just like yesterday.” (The Wolf)

Estoy con él, aunque él no lo sepa. Estoy tan lejos de mí que me da miedo.” (Hoy)

No me digas que me quieres, solo márchate.” (Miedo)

Don't tell me you love me, just go away.” (Fear)

Te pierdo de nuevo. Te marchas una vez más.” (Cúrame del ayer)

Sueños con lágrimas y disfraces internos... Sueños de no saber y saberlo todo.” (Sueños)

thought as I walked of those who had gone before me. The pilgrimages to Compostela had brought together a cross section of human beings from all over Europe. You could say that the Camino had been the legacy of medieval Christianity attempting to unite, through faith and devotion, many aspects of society involved with art, religion, economics, and cultural pursuits. People from lowly stations and saints and royalty disregarded their social distinctions and national borders in order to worship and find the divine in themselves on the journey to Santiago de Compostela.

Now, all the rightful owners are gone but me. Everybody else has passed. I’m the true owner of my island and it’s wrong for somebody else to say otherwise.

They say in old stories that you can't discover new lands without losing sight of the shore for a long time. —Laurie Gough

Los momentos de oportunidades que se perdieron en el camino, los momentos de tiempo que simplemente se fueron volando, las estaciones que llegaron y se fueron en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, los colores del arco iris y los destellos en el cielo. La lluvia que lavó las lágrimas de mis ojos, la luz del sol que llenó mi corazón, la brisa del mar que ayudó a aclarar mi mente y mis momentos mágicos solos que consolaron mi alma. Los momentos para recordar que nunca se perderán. Han habido momentos buenos y no tan buenos Como el sol y la luna Llenos de momentos y sentimientos de dudas y miedos, comprensión de la frustración y la ira al ver la tristeza y la soledad experimentando las lágrimas y la risa Todo en un día, todo en una noche , todo en un momento a medida que pasaron los días y las semanas antes de nuestras propias vidas. Momentos en los que dos mundos diferentes se unieron, cada uno especial y único en su propia forma especial. Compartir, cuidar, enseñar, comprender. comportamiento. ¡Gente que toca nuestros corazones y siempre será recordada! Agradeciendo y agradecido de que haya llegado un nuevo día Nuevas lecciones, nueva vida, nuevos comienzos y viajes para seguir hasta el final de nuestros propios arcoíris especiales. Sin arrepentimientos, sin tristeza, nunca estamos solos donde el sol siempre brilla al ritmo de un latido al baile del viento Donde la felicidad nunca termina y la risa se desborda Deja que la sonrisa siempre te siga a donde quiera que vayas. Lo que se hizo, lo que se dijo, fue un paso del tiempo, se aprendieron lecciones difíciles, era parte de la obra y del gran plan maestro. No se perdió nada, solo se conservan muchos tesoros. En un viaje de momentos que nunca volverán. Por Natasha

The Camino has made this much clear to me: I want my life to demonstrate love, sacrifice for others, compassion, and value placed in relationships. I want my life to be a compass for my children to use as a guide for how they should live theirs, and I am suddenly and painfully aware of how I have been failing my beautiful children. At the end of the day, Justin and I sit at a small table outside of an albergue. I turn to him and say, “I don’t want to go back to who I was.

Jerry had in fact, and because of this experience he knew that his pal McGregor here had a copy of his rap sheet. “Yes,” he said. “How many times?” “Look, Mr. Agent. You just told me I have the right to remain silent. I ain’t saying a word and I want a lawyer right now. Got it?” McGregor said, “Sure,” and left the room. Around the corner, Mark was being situated in another room. McGregor walked in and went through the same ritual. They sipped coffee for a while and talked about the Miranda rights. With a warrant, they had searched Mark’s bag and found all sorts of interesting items. McGregor opened a large

You’ve heard the old saying ‘Too poor to paint and too proud to whitewash.

for years I’d been saying “someday” I would do it. Sitting there, I realized plainly that none of us really knows how many somedays we have left.

Bruce poured ice-cold Chablis and wanted to know all about Scotland. Steven Mahon arrived fifteen minutes late, with apologies. He had met Mercer at the bookstore but she did not remember him. He had also just reread Lovely’s book and was up to speed. “Bruce says you may want to write the story,” he said. Mercer frowned at Bruce and wanted to say, Well, Bruce, as always, has a big mouth. But she demurred with “We’ll see. It’s interesting.” “It’s fascinating,” Steven agreed. “And now the plot is getting really thick.” Mercer asked Bruce, “Do you think Lovely will talk to me? I’ll have to tell her up front that I’m a writer and I’m thinking of borrowing her story.” “I have no idea. She’s a pleasant person but very guarded. I always get the impression

Sempre seràs la meva obra mestra,” she says. You will always be my masterpiece.