James Timberlake - Sons of Thunder

Sons of Thunder

James Timberlake

AuthorHouse

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Phone: 1-800-839-8640

2011 James Timberlake. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/15/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6796-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6797-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6798-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011907951

Printed in the United States of America

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Certain stock imagery Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

authors portrait by Ruth Scotch

portrait photograph and authors photograph by Deb Hickey

Contents

To my parents, Paul and Gertrude Roy Timberlake; to their parents, Wilbur and Casmire Jacmic Timberlake and Lo and Lucienne Poulin Roy; and to all my ancestors, in deep appreciation for this moment in tendriling time.

I would like to extend particular gratitude to my friend and landlady Maria Lusa Osorio. For the past ten years this bright little studio has been a refuge for me and for it I am profoundly grateful.

Additional Thanks and Acknowledgments to Jeff Timberlake; Melissa Oothout; Joe Torra; John Geannaris; Orlando Buzana; Deb Hickey; Ruth Scotch; Manuela Igel Caldern; Bob and Mary-Jo Sargent and the Staff at Flora Restaurant; Michael and Narayan Liebenson Grady and the Teachers at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center; and for fueling my days - all the guys at Caf Rustica in Somerville!

authors portrait painted by Ruth Scotch

www.ruthscotch.com

portrait photograph and authors photograph by Deb Hickey

www.debhickey.com

see photographs from the journey at

www.jimtimberlake.com

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licour,

Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye

(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimgs

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

Chaucers General Prologue

to The Canterbury Tales

A note to the Reader: You will find an informal glossary cobbled together at the end of this book, and for the sake of familiarity with people, places, products and terms, it would be worth a pre-departure perusal. If the Reader is in need of more facts pertaining to the Camino before getting underway, The Way of Saint James article in the Wikipedia is helpful in establishing the historical background to this pilgrimage.

INTRODUCTION

Thank you for picking up this book and, in a sense, for walking with me for a while on the Va de la Plata - the village, city, wide rolling plains and mountain threading pathways which lead from Andalusian Seville, to Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain.

Prior to my first pilgrimage to Santiago in 2004 I decided not to read the relevant histories or books biographing every Madonna, every altar retablo, every master mason who set the final ogive keystone in every random chapel, church and Cathedral along the Starry Way. I wanted simply to bring my body and my mind to the Experience of tracking across countries to the sea, and welcome what visions arise.

While away I made abundant use of Spains inexpensive internet cafs to write to folks back home. In weaving those more formal e-mails with walking poems and journal fragments, this book emerged out of trying to express what its like to labor and glide a couple thousand miles across Europe; what its like to pare life down to food, water, will, and ambulation; what its like to walk the pulse through secluded villages dotting rural Spain and then come upon compelling cities of Culture and Light; what its like - these days in the fields, in the forests, in the daily repetitions set against shifting landscapes, embracing the amazements, the boredom, the pain, the horizoned-sky-sweeping and small wheat grain beauties all while the body rots and heals, combusting each mouthed morsel into kinetic energy

Everyone has their own Camino. Someone hiking either two days behind or ahead will have an entirely different experience in the exact same place one was or will be; however, the human mind is the ultimate common ground in that how we experience the phenomenal world does not change. The sound of hot wind through dry wheat has not changed from Australopithecine Lucys hearing to the hearing of ears being born today; the refreshing feel of mountain stream water on overheated wrists and heels may be novel to oneself, but how we experience the experience through the sense-doors has not changed. In this spirit of experiential connection Im putting these pages out there to churn a particular butter for a fellow pilgrims bread; to give a flavor, a sound, a scent, an image to invoke reflection, a tactile moment within fleeting time to rest the mind upon - hoping to open a window onto your own Trails, Caminos, and Pilgrimgs be they far and hard journeyed or neighborhood near.

Enjoy the trip.

Sunday, May 28th, 2006.

Subject: testing one, two, three

My friends,

Swiftering off thick layers of dust from many of these e-mail addresses brings to mind what a poor keeper-in-toucher I am. Apologia. I know I have to work on that so Im writing now to invite. For those who havent heard me rambling on about going away since February, the background is this: In the Summer of 2004 I trekked 1000 miles across southern France, over the Pyrnes, and across the north of Spain to the pilgrim-destined Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. I rested, feasted, feted there, and then set off for the final three-day march to the sea. Amazing experience hardly cuts it as description.

Its hours Im counting now, not months and days until departure. The trails call; Im heading back to hike more of this 1000-year-old network of paths and my intent is to take my People with me on the Way.

This is to be brief. Im checking that all the e-dresses Ive been given are in working order. Peace, and Ill write from Seville. I have a few days there before beginning the journey north.

Jim

journal - 5/29/06

peculiar beginnings somewhat lackingly devoid of departure day thrill and excitement. was i too prepared too early? is five months too long a time to wrap my mind around? or maybe its the numbing effects of nerves, despite my pre-trip ritual at Casa Portugal which normally opens me up to the celebration of travel, even when im not going anywhere but home. a bottle of spicy Alentejo red wine; homemade prosciutto and fresh white cheese alongside sliced tomatoes doused in a paprika vinaigrette; littleneck clams steamed open in the classic trinity of garlic, parsley and wine; grilled bone-in bacalao with brightly yolked hard-boiled eggs, potatoes, barely cooked green pepper and onion strips bathed in hot garlicky olive oil and a warm humid pollen-perfumed stroll home. delicious and beautiful, but no thrill.