The air we breathe. The Portuguese Way to Santiago by the Coast.(7)

Lighthouse, Cabo Silleiro

This Camino from Portugal to Santiago, following the coast, is swept by Atlantic winds. The air seems to nourish every cell of the body, enlightening and energising mind and muscle and spirit. I felt considerable relief setting of from my damp overnight refuge.  I even glimpsed the sun for a minute or two and soon found myself leaving the main road, cutting inland by a rising path giving clear views of the Silleiro lighthouse and the in-coming black storms.  I noticed I was inhaling deeply.  Most meditation techniques emphasise the importance of being aware of our breathing, taking in air mindfully.  Even St. Ignatius dwells on the importance of breathing combined with prayer, using each breath in and out to focus the mind.  Sometimes I find my lungs filling slowly and deeply as I look at a breath-giving view or am swept up with wonder at a memory or a moment of joyous surprise, as if my body is filled with breath-filled prayer even before I am aware of what is happening.

Cartwheels, over the centuries, have carved ruts in the granite.

The path is clearly a very ancient road with the stone worn away by usage.  I loved this path which the Camino encounters every now and then in Portugal and here in Galicia.  I found myself breathing in the sea air, so fresh after the damp room in the hotel.  For a moment, I almost believed the weather would be kind but in an instant the skies darkened and water fell cold: it splashed on my quickly donned “waterproofs” which always help me feel that I am cosily inside a tent until the liquid chill seeps through to my shirt and skin.  I recapture the thrill of that air inhaled a few minutes earlier and welcome the storm, for the path has become a river and my ankle will lose its stiffness.

8 minutes after theprevious picture (of the ruts in the stone), this is the path.

A bit of Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Blessed Virgin Compared To The Air We Breathe

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Wild air, world-mothering air,
Nestling me everywhere,
That each eyelash or hair
Girdles; goes home betwixt
The fleeciest, frailest-flixed
Snowflake; that ’s fairly mixed
With, riddles, and is rife
In every least thing’s life;
This needful, never spent,
And nursing element;
My more than meat and drink,
My meal at every wink;
This air, which, by life’s law,
My lung must draw and draw
Now but to breathe its praise………..

Islas Cies, Baiona Ponevedra

A descent in another flash of sun-light and the great bay of the Playa America opens up with the Peninsular which hosts, in a fort, the Parador de Baiona.  Guarding the bay, and indeed the whole estuary with its important port of Vigo are the Islas Cies.  Large boats were sheltered by the Isles from the open Atlantic as I made my way down to Baiona, inhaling and exhaling slowly.  Yes, I thought, it does help to dull pain.  Women in labour are taught to do it so why not arthritic pilgrims too?

The Parador in the Fort, Baiona in a ray of sunlight.

Air. The Incredible String Band.

So from Hopkins to the Incredible Sting Band here is a song I loved from the sixties written by the Scottish musicians in this interesting band.

Air

Breathing, all creatures are Brighter then than brightest star You are by far

You come right inside of me Close as you can be You kiss my blood and the blood kiss me

Breathing, all creatures are Brighter then than brightest star You are by far

You come right inside of me Close as you can be You kiss my blood and the blood kiss me

Written by Mike Heron