cracks in the armour

por qué se abren grietas durante el camino? quizás sea porque la armadura restringe el movimiento y nosotros - consciente o inconscientemente - permitimos que se desplace, que se formen puntos débiles y que aparezcan las primeras grietas pequeñas, las cuales se van ensanchando hasta abrirse por completo y permitirnos ver el interior.

the armour represents everything we build to protect ourselves: stories about our past, including the way we tell them to mask their true essence (what is it that really happened? not just the facts, but the intentions of actors, the effects of their actions and inactions, et cetera), the identities we build, presumed certainties, narratives in our families, defense mechanisms that we have trained ourselves to use, even spiritual ideals (this is how i should see it all). not just armour, but costume and mask. we become so used to wearing it that we begin to mistake it for our skin.

we believe it allows us to go (to walk - in keeping with the theme of lately) through life without suffering too much. but it comes at a cost: it limits movement. it separates us from direct contact with life. it dampens life’s intensity.

growth demands a mobility that the armour doesn’t provide. life invites us to grow. especially on the camino. life presents itself to us in all its forms, colours, sounds, smells … fill in more words here if you want … ultimately, in all its wonders and miracles. we just need to want to fill up on life and get moving. go on a camino. then, what once protected us now constricts us. we might not realize immediately, but eventually we will.

if we are ready for change - that is coming anyway, if we want it or not - either consciously or unconsciously, whether we are searching for it or it just comes our way, we stop holding it together. we start to let go.

it maybe doesn't shatter immediately, this armour. small cracks form. little doubts instead of certainty. emotions being felt despite years of practiced stoicism. despite decades of supressing them. more questions instead of answers.

we start to reveal ourselves. reveal things to ourselves. uncover the essence of memories. take the armour off, take the costume off, take the mask off. that may feel vulnerable. it may even feel like a threat at times. we question ourselves. we doubt our ability to feel and understand what we feel.

exposures. allowing light in. as long as the armour remains intact, we can maintain the illusion that we are whole (are we ever?), uninjured, self-sufficient. but we hide our essence, including our wounds and scars form others, and from ourselves.

old grief, unacknowledged fears, loneliness, regret, shame, longing. the parts of ourselves we buried because they weren’t upfront and conscious, they seemed too painful, too dangerous to face. covered under the armour we built or the layers that accumulated over time somehow.

vulnerability feels frightening. allowing it is to risk discovering that beneath our supposed strength there is hurt. beneath our displayed certainty there is confusion. beneath our cool composure there is insecurity, shame and inhibitions.

vulnerability is not the opposite of strength. it is the courage to look inside the cracks and say: this too is part of me. so stop treating those cracks as failures and start recognizing them as invitations. the soul heals because the wound is finally allowed to speak. let your soul speak. do it in the here and now. whichever way it wants to express itself. this is you, your essence.

ultimately, it is a liberation. we start to face life, to confront life, to live life. in all its intensity.