As a middle child I always looked for ways to navigate the minefield of life between sanity and chaos and of course my brothers and sisters. I watched out for mini explosions, minefields to avoid, things to not be blamed for. Or avoid hurting or being hurt by words or flying objects. Oops was that your shirt, I thought it was mine. It’s my turn to use the phone. NO its mine! A phone you dialed, stuck on the wall in the dining room of all places.

You had to stretch the cord out the door onto the patio to have a private conversation with your girlfriend or boyfriend. That cord wrapped round the door was a sign that meant “Please do not disturb me” and since there was only one phone in the whole house with 6 kids/teenagers you can just imagine. There was no such thing as a cell phone yet and certainly no internet. I don’t think those were even ideas yet. Maybe just dreams.

Fast forward and I’m on a plane again, It’s the middle of the night (at least on this flight) and I see we are flying over, of all places, a currently free Greenland (Thank God!). Making our way to Porto to walk the Camino via the Portuguese coastal route.

And why not, it’s been more than10 years since we stood on St James square in Santiago watching pilgrims walk in or ride in on bikes. Falling to the ancient stone plaza and kissing it, or on their knees with grateful tears falling on it, as they catch their breath having survived the journey. No matter how they had gotten there or where had come from, or even why they chose to go; I’m certain they all saw signs along the way. Some subtle, some not so. The ones that prompted them to journey in the first place and the actual blue and yellow sunburst signs that guided them here.

I’m listening to Van Morrison singing down his Memory Lane of times he lived in the Bay Area, San Francisco, Tiburon, Sausalito. Listening to the Lion,

I fall into a trance thinking of my own journey and time living in the City. The twist and turns that brought me to where I am now. The people, the milestones, the deals, the decisions, good and bad, and some very bad in retrospect. The signs I did not see coming, and the ones I mistakenly ran over in a state of disarray… a bit like our country,

I fall into a dream; I’m living in San Francisco near North Beach. Looking out over the bay I imagine sailors coming in from the darkness and rolling seas, after months and some years of living on perilous waves seeking a small sign that they had only known by legend. A glimmer of light they hoped to find.

There was no bridge yet, just an opening in the coastline, a natural inlet to a dream of paradise. It was the light in the distance, perched on the rocky cliffs of the Marin Headlands, a flickering circling light leading into the Golden Gate Strait. A sigh of relief, knowing they’d soon be safely docked on a pier in a safe harbor.

I awoke stressed like those sailors, sensing we too are disoriented, searching for a hopeful sign for safe passage of our lost and forlorn nation.

For more of Mark’s travel experiences, visit https://lifeintheclickstream.com/.