COMPOSTELA.
I went pilgrim to Compostela grace abounding and grace seeking and what
I found was the big night, angels on the rocks and stone casted gargoyles
sprouting over spires, unbelievable arches and bell cranks, the grey of rain,
falling down the centuries, gutter pandering the conveyance of water. Rain in
Spain. Lluvia de Compostela. Did
I find the pulp of my faith or the addle myth of empty superstition?
Outside Lugo, where is the throne of the goddess Lupa,
I lunched oysters in a nice restaurant and before seeing with these eyes of
mine, prospective fodder to the vermin of tombs, the Gozo Mound I made love to
a beautiful negresse from Cuba, she was sweet and understanding with my
impotence.
Santiago la bella que nunca la ves
hasta que estás encima della.
Then
drinks, coffee bars and taverns alongside Azabachería. There were the abodes of
the jet merchants. Succinum nígrum. They dealt on piedras negras. To embrace
the Apostle I couldn´t. It was after hours, well past night o´clock on a
Friday. Sextons had gone home or were drinking mediosat
the pubs nearby Plaza del Obradoiro. Canons at the cathedral were through with
Vespers, the iron gates with its
railings like spears were closing down, only could I see the big perron leading
to the magic towers, La Puerta del Perdón in the Porch of Glory, the best
representation of glory and rank ever conceived over the line of the stroke of
the burin (burilada) with all the figures escorting the Pantocrator Christ in
reverence and majesty sitting as judge appearing with all the pageantry in the
court of saints and martyrs, the nine grades of angels entouring his see, the
mystic almond, simulating the external orifice of a vulva. Eschatology,
Theology, biology, a chant to the everlasting cell represented under the
disguise of the mystic body which symbols an egg.
And there, good Jack was, the son of Zebedeo and María Salomé, like a
thunder in peace with himself warden of his own tomb over the centuries
venerated. Kisses and tears shredded over his grave have flagellated his chest
like a tinderbox (yesquero). Crowds and hords of the faithful have deposited on
the shrine like a hoque (la robla y el alboroque de santidad) their osculator
wishes. From here to eternity. Santiago
is not a real city like Jerusalem. Overwhelms. In order to quell the panting oppression
sensation it conveys (la abofellada) on the visitor, you have to recur to most
menial sources. Riveiro is a good wine if you take it in moderation.
That night I couldn´t either. Santiago was too much. I felt its bruising
prophetic atmosphere all over me. That is why I got drunk and on my way home at
the first junction leading the way to Asturias a civil Guard asked me to pull,
they made me to blow the alcoholic test and I was unable to pass. A fine of
75000 pesetas, three months without driving licence. It was the curse of the
apostle. Galicia is the only region of Spain where you could see gnomes and
witches walking along the countryside or climbing the branches of the big oaks.
its cemeteries (composita) are a variegated motley. A culture of death.
Galicians believe in apparitions. The ghost stroll walk side of the hamlets
with barns and haystack at dawn: Sancta Compaña, the irreal peg of almas en
pena, visions of hobgoblins in midnight processions, somebody toll the
bells of belfries of churches in ruins, the bells commence to peal, the bones
for long time hidden at the bottom of the lake corpses of people who drowned
back again on the march. We have in Iberia our Ireland of Saints. And there I
was immersed in a labyrinth dismal and frail
However, Santiago is a drab city like Jerusalem. Drinking is allowed and
womanizing tolerated but extramural. The scarce half an hour I spent with my malate
was worth much more than the whole pilgrimage.
However, one has de duty to live and abide by legends and myths.
La Santa Compaña is a myth in the same way as the Stone Barge with the
mortal remains of Boanerges, a pill hard ro swallow, belongs to the realms of
allegorical fiction where religion crossbreeds superstition.
These mingled ingredients conduct us in spite of all to the triumphant
scenery of the art of mouldering flagstones of Portico de la gloria. There the
chisel full of inspiration and devotion of Maestro Mateo has the last words. Yo
no soy más que un cintero de la inmensa poesía que guarda el arte cristiano.
But Compostela keeps the esoteric profile of the Gnosis founded in the
New Scriptures. Gnosis comes from the Island of Cnosos (Crete) that evokes the
cavities leading to the labyrinth, we are surrounded by the maze framing our
mortal lives. The great support of the gnostic knowledge, another approach to
God, is the Fourth Godspell. John writes in a divine incomprehensive way. He
was the disciple who loved Jesus, the another son of thunder, brother of Jack.
That is part of the mysteries enveiled by Santiago:its Johannes
connections. With its shells or merles, veneiras, the stock, the burjaca,
bordón, the pumpkin, cape and the long robe. Compostela means a wedge between
heaven and earth moulded by the last of the evangels. Campus stellae, the
graveyard of the star glowing mysteries and the key of our essence and
existence.
Pilgrim is part of our way of live. The russian yurodivi filed the route
of the Volga with the fourth book of the New Testament in their leather bag
(bujarca). Morral de devoción. And
that line of demarch was spiritual, and symbolic, a certain allegiance to the
book of glory. Steps in the direction of eternal life and apocalypses. A book
set the whole Europe on the move. The West and the East.
I drove all the way from Canterbury. My compass was a star (lizarra) and
I went astray at that brothel in the motorway I know but that was not a big
sin.
Jaca is Jack, the town of Wisdom, the sister of Compostela. Located at
the initial of the track leading to the stars over Finisterre. There was three
ways in Europe which leads to the lands’ end: from Canterbury to Cornwall and
the Stonehenge; from Chartres to the Armorica or Mont Saint Michelle. And I
have done all the walk from Canterbury step by step per pedes apostolorum
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