I am looking at this three-month sojourn in South America, which will begin on Christmas Day, as a pilgrimage, a stepping off into the mystery, opening to the mystery, being the mystery, in my world without borders.
It is said by the ancients that there is an invisible thread connecting us to the Source, to the Sacred. The thread could be called "the God within" or the soul itself. The thread will guide me on this pilgrimage.
I had an idea to create a blog before leaving to develop the idea of travel as pilgrimage...and the invisible form of guidance that is leading the journey. Then my flow of preparation was interrupted by a huge and disturbing eruption by my housemate this afternoon creating profound feelings of not-ok-ness. I know this will pass and that I absolutely should not take the outburst personally, but in the moment I am deeply distraught. So I decided to take a break and post this little blog. In dealing with my angst, I cannot be reminded of the Four Agreements of Don Miguel Ruiz too many times, so I've posted them here for easy reference.
And finally, I am going to simply share without commentary a favorite Billy Collins poem, since he says it all and it speaks so deeply to my journey and I daresay the journey we are all on.
You can have Egypt and Nantucket.
The only place I want to visit is The Blue,
not the Wild Blue Yonder that seduces pilots,
but that zone where the unexpected dwells,
waiting to come out of it in the shape of bolts.
I want to walk its azure perimeter
where the unanticipated is coiled, on the mark,
ready to spring into the predictable homes of earth.
I want to stroll through the pale indigo light
examining all the accidents about to rocket into time,
all the forgotten names about to fly from tongues.
I will scrutinize all the surprises of the future
and watch the brainstorms gathering darkly,
ready to hit the heads of inventors
laboring in their crackpot shacks.
A jaded traveler with an invisible passport,
I am at home with this heaven of the unforeseen,
waiting for the next whoosh of sudden departure
when, with no advance warning, to tiny augury,
the unpredictable plummets into our lives
from somewhere that looks like sky.