Sepperl
By: Gilbert Pilayre
We were having our dinner and enjoying the view of the setting sun when my wife received a message from a close friend that he passed away.
I was so shocked that I pulled her phone that was tied to her neck.
Josef, Sepperl, to his friends and family was a farmer (Bauer in German) It was from him that I learned how Austria assured food security.
He told me that they followed a general program on what to plant each season, be it potatoes, wheat, and other agricultural products.
He also has animals on his farm (sheep, chicken, and goats) He was with us as we hiked my first Camino de Santiago towards Finisterre and Muxia.
He was an insufferable beer drinker. The group made several stops already.
Every now and then, we must stop to buy beer when we happen to pass by a bar.
He eats little; the beer perhaps was enough for him. And to think that beer is made from malt, a kind of cereal.
He was a small guy, over 60 at that time.
There was this incident during our Camino that he confidently conversed with the locals in German.
The locals in turn replied in Spanish but their conversation continued.
This made me doubt that communication is nothing more than filtration.
If we want to understand, we can.
In the Camino, he was consistent with his pace as he was looking for beer along the way.
Since I found it tedious for all of us to stop as we waited for him to acquire his beer, I asked the group if I could go ahead and continue my recording of the day.
It is never difficult to find your way in the Camino.
There are stone posts there that point the way.
There is no way for someone to get lost in the Camino unless one allows all forms of distractions.
Take note: Allow! It was in the Camino that I was able to remove what was so-called “The writer’s block”.
Nothing comes out even though I tried.
Perhaps something will but I was too impatient to make it grow.
Unlike my friend-farmer who knows how to be patient in growing his plants.
Maybe, I was too influenced by Hollywood.
I always need immediate gratification.
It was in the Camino that I learned to be patient.
I tried not to look towards where we were going but just walk until we arrived at a certain place.
There I learned how to walk without thinking of where we were going, just walking.
It was there that I simply looked at the ground while walking and never scanned the horizon.
It was kind of meditative.
We were trained to be always in control; there we just follow the flow.
But the way is never boring, it was here that I saw the Atlantic for the first time along with the wind farms along the way.
Wind Farms are common in Austria as well as solar farms.
He has reached his final stop now, far beyond the stone markers and the wind farms, leaving the trail behind for the rest of us to walk.
And as the night finally settles over our table, I am left with a bittersweet gratitude for the farmer who showed me how to grow food for the body, and how to grant the soul the patience it needs to simply be.
Rest well, Sepperl.
May the roads ahead always lead you to a cold beer, and may we remember to slow our step, look down at the earth, and trust the path we are on.
