On a Human Scale

After Rabanal, we crested the Cordillera Cantábrica at Cruz de Ferro. Traditionally, one leaves a stone at the foot of the cross there. This is the accompanying prayer: 

Lord, may this stone, a symbol of my efforts on the pilgrimage that I lay at the foot of the cross of the Savior, one day weigh the balance in favor of my good deed when the deeds of my life are judged. Amen. 

Beyond the simple prayer and the stone, of course, everyone has something else to lay down there as well. Something we’ve been holding onto.

Sin. Attachment to sin. Bad habits or attitudes. 

Or something else entirely: grief, emotional or mental baggage, memories of slights or offenses that you must let go.

After this is a dangerous and harrowing descent down the mountainside. 

  
This, we did over two days, bringing us finally into the beautiful valley of El Bierzo.

There’s poetry in that, I think. 

  
As we passed through many tiny villages over the past few days, I was struck by the very human scale in which they are constructed.

The streets tend to be narrow, perhaps 20 or 30 feet wide, and tall, with the houses close in.

The central plaza or main street holds a church, a bar/café, perhaps a restaurant, a grocery, and a shop or two.

Everything is within walking distance. Everything is on a human-sized scale.

  
I can’t help thinking that this is the way humans are meant to live together in community.