The story of the comb

The Camino de Santiago has a soul.  This much I now is true.
It tests you when you need to be challenged, and it brings gifts when you are most in need.
I have experienced both, and have come to understand the quiet spirit of the trail. Whether walking solo or not, you are never alone, surrounded by the history and magic that this trail contains.

One such story, is of a comb.

While packing, deciding what to bring and what to leave behind, I decided with absoluteness, that I would not bring a brush or comb with me, for I always had my fingers and I would be fine. But hair grows, and my hair, being thick and monsterous as it is, is not easy to comb with the fingers, and I had forgotten that the longer it grows the more unmanageable it becomes. Such is the way, and for me well coiffed hair is not the most important thing, but once the hair is tangled and in knots its rather difficult to reverse the process. Anyway, I managed...sort of.

While walking on the trail about 3 weeks in, I thought to myself, maybe purchasing a comb wouldn't be a bad idea. They are light and would help prevent the knots. So ok. The thought was there, but always when in towns I forgot about the thought .  One day, after knowing it was time, I had decided my priority for the day would be to get a comb. While walking through a small village, I looked down and what do I see is a comb.  I looked at it curiously. Stopped and considered picking it up, but then said no and continued to walk.  15 minutes later I regretted that move.  Here was a perfectly good comb and I passed it up. A week laterm, or so the same hair issue presented itself. Ok, I said, I need a comb this is ridiculous. And again on the trail, a broken comb lay in the middle of the path.  This time I stopped and picked it up.  That evening after my shower I used it, but the teeth all fell out  (I don't know if it is because of my hair or due to the fact this comb had spent quite awhile in the great outdoors) Regardless, I ended up throwing it out after using as it had about 3 teeth remaining.  This was in Montcuq.  The following day, I began to travel with Magdelana, and had  told her that today I would get a new comb and proceeded to tell her my story of the broken comb.  She had laughed at my misfortune but we spoke of the magic this trail had.  In 20 minutes we would both be laughing, for right in the middle of the trail while leaving a small village, was a brand new comb! We stopped and stared at it for several minutes, then looked at each other with amazement. Without hesitation I picked up the comb, and have traveled with it since. My magic comb!

Crazy!