30/09/2025 - I am rich beyond measure.

Today I had to gather every drop of strength to come onto the page and write because I am beyond tired.Last night, after finishing my entry, I went back to the hostel and had a work meeting at 10 p.m. that lasted an hour, followed by another call with Robert. I felt fine in the moment, even though it was long past my usual Camino bedtime. But this morning my eyelids were heavy as stones. Brutal. Knowing I had twenty-five kilometers ahead of me made it even harder. Yet I did it. As usual, I showed up on the path, and now again, here. It might not be my best entry, but it’s the best I can give before passing out.

I left the albergue around seven. The city of León was still asleep, the streets dark except for a few early workers. I ducked into the first open bar, ordered a coffee, and called my dad. He had to pep talk me because I wasn't having it this morning, reminding me of my own strength and getting my ass back on the path. I felt so lucky to have him, really. I was thinking about it when I ran into another pilgrim.

At first, I had my AirPods in and had decided not to talk to anyone today. But I quickly realized I couldn’t bury myself underground and expect to feel better. I needed connection. Expression. It always heals something in me. At a fork in the road, we started talking. His name was Santiago, literally. He told me he came from four generations of men, one per generation, and that his parents had walked the Camino themselves, praying for another son. They promised to name him Santiago if he was born, and here he was, walking his second Camino, soon to be joined by his seventeen-year-old daughter for the last hundred kilometers.

We clicked instantly, talking about our revelations, beliefs, and ways of seeing life. We both share our experiences publicly, him through a WhatsApp group where he posts daily reflections, me through my blog. He added me to his group; I gave him my link. We recognized something similar in the way we both try to extract truth from experience and offer it outwards.

We also spoke about his relationship with his four daughters and mine with my dad. He listened tenderly, saying he hoped to one day have that kind of connection with his own. At one point he asked me, seriously, what it takes to be a good dad. I told him that the fact he was asking already made him one. Then I stopped for breakfast, two fried eggs, and we parted ways.

Later I stopped by the Basilica of La Virgen del Camino, and wow. The most incredible church I’ve visited so far. The sculptures were abstract, allowing the mind to recognize the archetypes behind the forms rather than their literal faces. The whole place felt magnetized, timeless. The murals and stained glass reminded me of the pieces I saw this summer at the Fondation Maeght, modernism, expressionism, mysticism all alive in stone and glass.

I sat on a bench, closed my eyes, and let the space breathe through me. No expectations, just presence. And once again, I cried. But this time, from pure gratitude. It might sound silly, but I felt so supported, so loved, that it almost frightened me. In the past few days, people who read my words have been sending messages, voice notes, encouragement. It feels natural to receive it because I’m only expressing my truth. Yet it’s also the most vulnerable part of me they’re loving.

Even writing this now brings tears to my eyes. I have my dad as my rock, my mum guiding me through the veil, my sister inspiring me daily, a caring family, sisters of heart, brothers in arms, people who see me and love me as I am. I am rich beyond measure. And it’s almost scary. How am I supposed to receive so much? How could I possibly feel deeper than this? And yet I do. I can feel myself expanding, dissolving old limits, creating space to receive it all.

I carried that thought through the rest of the walk and received so many insights, some too private to share here, maybe one day. Between the exhaustion and my luteal phase, I’m processing oceans inside.

By the fifth hour, walking became a battle. I had to coach myself through every step. I put on my earplugs, breathed, sang, made strange noises, anything to keep my mind from spiraling during that endless stretch toward San Martín del Camino. My inner child completely took over. I remembered how easily I used to be bored as a kid, sitting in the dentist’s waiting room, in the car while Mum ran errands, waiting for my parents to finish dinner with friends. Those restless moments when I had to invent worlds in my mind to make time move. That’s exactly what happened today. I started babbling nonsense, making weird sounds, spinning stories with no beginning or end. I lost the plot, but in the best way.

And finally, I arrived. The albergue I had first wanted was supposedly full, but someone canceled at the last minute and there was one bed left for me. Destiny’s little wink. I settled into a room full of Korean pilgrims, which made me smile. I’ve always loved Korean and Japanese shows: Terrace House, Single’s Inferno, Alchemy of Souls… guilty pleasures, I admit.

I spent the afternoon working on new tasks, editing my blog article, stretching in the grass, and resting in bed. I wish I had the energy to read tonight, but even that feels too much. All I want now is to close this laptop, surrender, and sleep. Which is exactly what I’ll do. Good night, and may your own journey be gentle tonight.

With love, Loune.