Today the story had a happy ending for me. I began by feeling invisible - I needed help. Not HUGE help - just retail help as I gathered bits & pieces of gear for my camino. By outward appearances I fit neither the fit-at-forty-nine-and you're-amazing-so-I'll-help-you look, or the I-don't-have-a-clue-what-I'm-doing look....I was just plain and simple invisible to anyone who might've had the knowledge or desire to assist me. As I tried on several backpacks and read the literature attached to each one and then used my smart phone to quickly refresh my mind by reading through reviews I had already read - I began to get fearful then slightly angry that 1) in spite of all of my research, I was still under-confident about my choice and 2) NO ONE CAME TO HELP.
Well, poor fu*kin' me. Who is doing this anyhow - them? The ones who didn't come to help me? Nope. (This is for my daughter who'll eventually read this) "Postura". It's a word I learned shortly after she turned 18 and had it tattooed on her wrist to remind herself that her attitude determines the quality of each moment in her life as well as her entire life.
In my cloak of invisibility I had a
fight discussion nice visit with myself and my fears - and had to examine then adjust my s*itty attitude in order to complete my tasks with love for myself and for anyone who didn't appear to help me. I had a funny cartoon thought in my head, imagining that I am at a fork on the path sometime over the next several weeks wondering which to take - waiting on 'customer service' to assist me in my decision..... and, again, I am aware that my journey has begun before I've left my first footprint on the Camino Frances. Postura, indeed.
Sometimes being invisible is the most direct route from self-pity to glorious consciousness. And. that. is. beautiful. too.
May I be peaceful, may I be well. May you be peaceful, may you be well. <3