I came back to Barcelona. I didn't change my mind again, the decision was made for me. After committing to staying on the camino, a client wrote that they couldn't deposit a payment into my Mexican bank account, and to fix it I would need to reissue the invoice from my computer back at home.
I have decided to remain here until my pending payments have cleared, which should be in less than five days. No story begins with the protagonist aborting his quest because he needs wait for a payment, but here I am. Perhaps I was too eager to leave.
On a recent visit, a good friend told me she no longer travels compulsively as she did before. A sage had questioned her, "What do you run away from when you travel?", and the question unlocked the inner work required to address her escapism.
This koan also made me realize I'm also an escapist. My journey was an attempt to escape the autistic loops which I fall into, and the vices which come along with it. As soon as I came back to Barcelona, I fell into the same pattern. But then I noticed: if I am able to close this loop here and now, it won't ensnare me when I come back home. I will be drawn to walk instead of walking because I'm escaping from myself.
I will keep on writing, as this is part of the journey.