Gorma Tales of the Camino: The Tree of Everything
Gorma woke up very gently, the morning she arose in the loveliest albergue on the Camino. The sun was just starting to awaken, and so, too, the chickens in the yard, and the birds in the trees. The dogs stretched, one by one, each standing and stretching its legs, one by one, until all the legs were awake as well, and then they all trotted off down the lane, dog by dog by dog.
By the time the rooster crowed his good morning to the farmyard, Gorma was sipping her coffee in the warm farmhouse kitchen. For you see, this albergue was simply beds for weary travelers offered by a hardworking family – right in their own home! When Gorma had commented on this amazing situation the evening before, while the travelers ate supper grown from the garden and cooked by the family, the mother Marisa would say, “It is only a simple house, nothing more.” But it was something more, as Gorma well knew, for her sleep was as deep as this rich morning coffee, she woke as refreshed as the warm, soothing shower, and was delighted by the delicious cake for breakfast, baked fresh in the earliest hours of the day, well before dawn, sprinkled with the sweetness of children’s dreams.
The father of the house, Gaizka, joined Gorma for coffee and reminded her, “Now, Gorma, Gorma, do not forget all we talked about last night at supper. For we here in the North of the Country of the Heart, we are the keepers of the Freedom of the Heart, and the Freedom of the Heart is Honor, as you know. Do not forget to see the Tree of Honor, which for us is the Tree of Life, and so the Tree of Everything. For at the Tree of Honor, our fathers’ fathers and mothers’ mothers swore to keep the heart of this country free, always, and always we will do so. It is our most important symbol, this tree. You will find it surrounded by a glimmering circle of silver, and blanketed in velvet green, like the noble of our land that it is. Before you leave these high hills, you must see it, Gorma.”
“I will see the tree, Gaizka,” Gorma replied seriously, “for I already know the power it has over the people and this land. It is the magic I have sensed ever since I arrived in your beautiful farmhouse.”
“This is only a simple house, Gorma, nothing more,” Gaizka said, raising his arms and spreading his hands like a great tree, to show the utmost honesty, no magic tricks then being played.
“Oh no, it is much more, and has the Tree of Honor to thank for it. But I must be on my way.”
So Gorma shook hands with Gaizka and hugged Marisa and walked down the dirt road with Saint Thomas, her walking stick. She saw many, many trees, hillsides of trees sometimes, but none encircled by glimmering silver and blanketed in the velvet green of a noble.
Soon, the day became hot, so Gorma stopped by the side of the road, sitting in a shady patch of grass. She ate her bread and cheese, then looked in her bag one more time. “No fruit,” she said aloud, and reached for her water jug.
“Well, Gorma, would you like an apple or a pear?” asked a voice quite close behind her. Gorma turned, and saw that the shady patch was due to a most beautiful old tree. Two smaller trunks had twisted round each other many years ago, when they were young, and now this tree curved gracefully, with full and arcing branches. Gorma saw that on one side of the tree grew apples, and on the other side grew pears. A blanket of velvety moss grew up and into the entwined trunks, and a clear stream circled the tree before flowing down the hills, flashing silver in the midday sun.
“Are you the Tree of Everything?” Gorma asked, realizing who had spoken to her.
“Well, I don’t know about everything, but we have apples, and pears. So we have more than most.” The apple half was Antoine, and the pear half was Pauline, planted side by side quite by chance many years ago. And then, growing quickly as all young things do, and chasing the sun through the course of each day, they’d ended up twirled round each other in this wondrously woven way, once two, now one.
“What does a Tree of Everything look like?” asked Antoine curiously.
So Gorma told them, “It is old, and strong, surrounded by a glimmering circle of silver, and blanketed in velvet green, like a noble of this land.”
Pauline and Antoine laughed and laughed. “Oh, Gorma, Gorma, we have only this little stream, and a blanket of moss. But we have been standing here as long as the little village down the road. So I guess we are a bit old, and a bit strong at that, if only stubbornly so,” Antoine replied, smiling.
“Tell us, Gorma, what does a Tree of Everything do?” asked Pauline, for she was most productive with her pears.
So Gorma told them, “The Tree of Everything is the Tree of Honor, where the fathers’ fathers and the mothers’ mothers swore to keep the Heart free, always, and always will do so.”
Pauline and Antoine laughed and laughed again. “Oh, Gorma, Gorma, we are just a village tree. Although, one time, a village boy fell in love with a village girl, standing right where you are now. He knew she brought her family’s cows here to drink from our stream, and nibble fallen pears and fallen apples, so he began to leave her love notes, here – just here,” replied Pauline, and showed a space between their two trunks that was still open and apart, like a pocket.
“And then what happened?” Gorma asked, snacking on the apple Antoine handed her.
“Oh, Gorma, Gorma, it was just so beautiful,” Antoine sighed, and Pauline nodded. “Here they made vows, with the village gathered round, and the birds all sang, flowers blooming everywhere….”
“They pledged their love, Gorma, here, just here,” added Pauline, and showed a space of smooth, clean stone beneath the moss. “I hear that they have children now, a family, but their house is a distance yet from here.”
“Ah, just so beautiful it was, Gorma, the wedding of sweet Marisa and young Gaizka,” and Antoine sighed dreamily again.
Then Gorma smiled, and hugged the tree, and all three laughed together in joy as Gorma told them of Marisa’s house, and of all Gaizka had said, and how the children tend the chickens and chase the dogs. For the magic of the “simple house and nothing more” was that it was a home, a real home, bound by honor, which is the solid stone beneath all love.
Pauline agreed. “And honor in a home allows a space for two to live as one, and still be two -”
“- like me and you,” added Antoine to his Pauline.
“Like me and you,” agreed Pauline with her Antoine.
“So to this village, and that family, you have become the Tree of Everything, for you have heard the vows, and held the honor of the freedom of the heart within you, in openness and joy. Thank you for shade, and for apples, and pears, and for laughter, and for sweet places for love notes and stories,” added Gorma, as she packed her bag to travel on. Then Pauline gave her a perfect pear, which she took along with a fresh jug of water from the stream, and waved goodbye.
Gorma walked on, quiet and smiling, munching on her pear. She arrived at the next albergue just in time for a bed, for which she was very grateful, and she slept deeply. Outside, the trees sighed happily in the soft breezes of the night, and somewhere tucked away among the high hills, the great Tree of Everything watched over all.
Buen Camino, Antoine and Pauline.