Celtic Advent - Day III - November 17
"I felt in need of a great pilgrimage, so I sat still for three days,
and God came to me."
~Kabir, 15th century Indian mystic poet
Before we get into advent and what it means, I want to spend a little time on the idea of a spiritual journey or pilgrimage.
There are over 200 paths – and four officially authorized ways: walking, biking, on horseback or sailing – to get to Santiago de Compostela through the northern part of Spain known as Galicia.
I traveled from the city of San Sebastian in the Basque region of Spain, near France, following El Norte, the Northern route, which provides breathtaking views as you walk, the Atlantic Ocean often at your right, through quaint farm lands with sheep and goats, cows, cattle and horses, and many feral cats.
Then, turning south, you walk through eucalyptus forests and farm lands, 106 miles total, to the city of Santiago De Compostela and the magnificent Cathedral there where the ossuary which reportedly contains the bones of St. James is kept and revered.
I signed up for the pilgrimage as a birthday present to myself, placing my first deposit in April, 2018. Soon after, I began a period of preparation that would last six months until the pilgrimage began on October 8th.
The pilgrimage was designed and led by Valerie Brown, a Quaker who was ordained by Thich Nhat Hahn in 2003, and staff member at Parker Palmer’s Center for Courage and Renewal.
Little did I know that those two words – courage and renewal – would capture the spirit of pilgrimage. In order to even begin to hope to achieve those two goals, preparation was absolutely essential. It was to be my first lesson in pilgrimage.
Valerie’s preparation involved body, mind and spirit. We were advised to follow the American Heart Association’s Physical Guidelines for Adults, and we were encouraged to begin walking 3 miles per week, gradually increasing to 15 miles per week.
Valerie encouraged us to take an inventory of the foods we were eating and to begin, if we hadn’t already, to choose foods that are well balanced and support our body type. We were urged to eat mindfully, and, at least weekly, she suggested that we eat in silence without any devices to distract us from simply savoring the meal.
We were encouraged to take a steam bath 1-10 times monthly and a weekly bath in Epsom salt. We were advised to swim, using, if possible, healing whirlpools and to stay well hydrated, drinking plenty of fresh, clear, unflavored, un-carbonated water daily.
Additionally, we were to practice meditation for 5-20 minutes, three to five times per week, which included visualization and the creation of a “home altar” to celebrate the pilgrimage as well as journaling three to five times weekly for about 3-5 minutes about our hopes, dreams and fears.
We were also encouraged to tell our friends and family about the pilgrimage and to ask for their prayers and support. Here’s the hard, second part of that advice: “Open yourself to receive that support.”
I loved this final piece of advice for spiritual preparation: “Look at the sky every day. Expand your views. Notice how you feel. Do this every day for 30 seconds to one full minute.”
When I was on the Camino, I was especially grateful for this preparation. It reminded me of the preparation of pregnancy, and I wondered if the women of Mary’s time had any similar preparation for their bodies and minds and spirits.
As I walked the farmlands of Northern Spain and Galatia, it was hard not to notice that the people who lived close to the land and depended on it for their livelihood seemed to be in a perpetual cycle of living into their current reality while preparing for the next season, the next reality of abundance or scarcity, beauty and harshness, calm or storm.
When I stopped to speak with some of the farmers – both of us fluent in a pretty hilarious form of Spanglish – there was an unmistakable spirituality that infused every part of their lives.
I suppose dependency on the land inspires an understanding that even though they lived on the Camino, their lives were also a Camino – a sacred way or path or journey on which they were pilgrims.
Slowly, ever so slowly, as my feet lifted from and then touched the ground, moving me step-by-step further along on my journey, I began to understand myself and my own life in the same way.
"You cannot travel the path until you have become the path."
–
Gautama Buddha (563-483 B.C.E.)
It is important to take time, several times a year, for pilgrimage, to understand ourselves as "peregrino/a," a traveler on a sacred path we call Life. It is equally important, then, to stop and shift our focus on our lives. To look up from the path and look at the sky. To consider taking a different or side or parallel path. To gain a new perspective on our lives.
The pandemic has taught me that while going to a sacred place for pilgrimage is wonderful and thrilling and challenging, it is not necessary.
You can take a sacred journey right where you are, finding the courage and renewal to seek and to find the justice and joy that is in the very heart of God.
It is good to begin to open to this awareness and understanding with a sacred journey into a 40-day Celtic Advent.
I will be spending some time in the next few days on the ideas of courage and renewal as a way to talk about and move ourselves into Advent, but I want to stop here and encourage you to stop, now, and prepare your body and mind and soul for the next 37 days.
Read over the preparation for the Camino and consider how you might prepare your body, mind and spirit for this Season of Advent.
Perhaps you might consider one thing – making one commitment as a way to begin.
Perhaps yours is a busy life, swirling with lots of people and chatter and noise.
Perhaps, to you, a walk several times a week might be appealing, especially as the Fall Season moves into Winter.
Or, you might chose to do an inventory of your diet and commit to making healthier choices about what you eat.
Or, just maybe the idea of making a commitment to a time of meditation speaks to something in the core of your being. You might want to combine meditation with walking a labyrinth, if there is one near you.
Choose to change one thing in your life as a way to prepare to meet Justice and Joy.
Here is a poem for reflection as you consider.
Invite Wonder
Christine Paintner
What if you bowed
Before every dandelion you met
And wrote love letters to squirrels and
pigeons who crossed your path?
What if scrubbing the dishes became an act
of single reverence for the gift of being
washed clean, and what if the rhythmic
percussion of chopping carrots became the
drumbeat of your dance?
What if you stepped into the shower each
morning only to be baptized anew and sent
forth to serve the grocery bagger, the bank
teller and the bus driver through acts of
simple kindness?
And what if the things that make your heart
dizzy with delight were no longer stuffed
into the basement of your being and allowed
out to play in the lush and green fields?
There are two ways to live in this world: as
if everything in this world were enchanted
or nothing at all.
There is no in between, although you keep
trying to live this divided life knowing deep
down something is awry.
You have lived long enough with this
tearing apart.
Come out into the wide world.
And discover there, companions and guides
at every turn, and even those who summon
curses from your heart have a divine spark
within them bright enough
To invite wonder.
.
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