Travelling light with companions

Travel light

'Pilgrims must travel light, otherwise they cannot continue on their way. Their equipment is designed for the journey and they do not fill their rucksacks with unnecessary 

possessions which only slow them down. As they walk, they discover other treasures: an inner peace, new ways of feeling, a delight in nature. It is because the are on the move that they can make new discoveries. And because they do not possess, they are able to enjoy everything.' (Gerard Hughes: In Search of a Way, p117)

I have lost stuff on the walk. A hat in a bog, which had slipped from a rucksack strap (I mourned). My treasured walking stick of 25 years, left at a B&B on Mull (I mourned some more). A tub of foot cream, slipped out of a pocket. Other bits and bobs. And then I have also decided that stuff I have been carrying for a week or more that I have not needed, I have left behind. A pair of trousers and some surprisingly heavy packets of wipes and cleansers. Travelling light is a lovely idea. But despite my best efforts, the rucksack still weighs more than I would like. I can't ditch the tent, the sleeping bag and other camping-related kit because it will be needed later in the walk.

Travelling light is an attitude of mind also, I am learning. It means learning to let go of the mistakes of the previous day and embracing the new day with a positive attitude. Also, not being able to see the full route but only a little bit at a time unfolding under your feet and to a smaller horizon enables a more full-hearted walking. The heart can easily drop when a long straight uphill path opens up before you. While a curved ascent over contours is somehow less demoralising. Travelling light seems to be not just about the burden you carry, but the sense of distance you have to cover as you carry that weight. Bite-sized bits of life are easier to digest, in other words.

Another way the burden gets lighter is by walking with companions. From Iona to Crianlarich, I have walked alone. I enjoyed the experience, walking at my pace, reciting psalms with just sheep and birds for company, and deciding when to rest and when to walk. From Crianlarich to just a few miles north of Glasgow, I have been joined by two companions - just in time for the most demanding stretches so far. Companions (those who share bread) keep you steady and provide a sense of accountability. They encourage when your emotions and energies take a dip. They provide a rhythm of walking and conversation which keeps your attention beyond yourself. And at the end of the day there is the share pleasure of remembering the trials and joys of the day's walk over a good meal and a pint. 

One thing we all have agreed, is that we always tend to think we have walked further than the map says we have and we over-estimate our accomplishments. The last three miles are always the toughest. And we need each other to push on and imagine what it will be like to take our rucksacks off at the entrance of the bunkhouse, campsite or B&B.

As I learned Psalm 122 - 'I was glad when they said to me, let us go to the house of the Lord' - I was struck how the psalmist glosses over the journey. The writer goes from the gladness of the pilgrimage to suddenly, in verse two, being able to say: 'And now, our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem.' This is travelling light, surely!! It is as if the psalter creators what to encourage the pilgrims on the long slog with the news that they too will find their feet standing within the gates of their destination. What this psalm also captures is the real sense of comradeship which the pilgrims have as they share the journey. Verse eight says: 'For my kindred and companions' sake, I will pray that peace be with you.' Praying peace for fellow pilgrims helps me to travel light.

Watching over you

The Lord himself watches over you

During the last three days I have walked across Mull and met not one person coming the other way. There has been drenching rain and ever present Scottish mist (and not much difference between the two). There have also been warm breezes and spells of sun. But whatever the weather, Mull is magnificent. Forty miles of incredible valleys and streams in full-spate, waterfalls and almost inaccessible shorelines, awesome caves and flat calm lochs reflecting the mountain vistas almost perfectly - as if the mirror was as true as the view. 

During this pilgrimage I am attempting to learn the Psalms of Ascent off by heart. These are the pilgrim psalms said to have been uttered by people approaching Jerusalem for one of the great festivals of Judaism. Psalm 120, with its concern for truth, home and peace, I just have not got to grips with, yet. But it is interesting how frustration with lies, a sense of exile and a culture not seeking peace, spurs the pilgrim to head to Jerusalem. I will persist in learning it. 

But yesterday, in amongst the hills between Loch Buie and Loch Don, I found the rhythm of Psalm 121 gave me great comfort. ‘The Lord will not suffer your foot to stumble,’ was of course an apt encouragement for a pilgrim. But it was verse 5 that blew me away. After repeating the psalm some eight or nine times, it suddenly hit me: ‘The Lord himself watches over you.’ Further on verse 7 is also deeply moving: ‘The Lord will keep you from evil; it is the Lord who keeps your soul.’ I was alone on this grassy valley track tucked between significant peaks. The main road snaked some 200 yards away. It was just me, the butterflies, midges and my tears, which flowed like the mountain streams all around. I can’t yet fully explain the tears, other than sometimes when knowledge moves from the head to the heart, tears are the pathway. 

Gerard Hughes, in his book In Search of a Way, say this about pilgrimming on foot: ‘In walking it is as though ideas in the head are shaken up and some start travelling downwards to the heart, where they become full-blooded knowing, which sets off a physical reaction.’  

I wonder if you have had this experience, too? 

 

Shelter

New socks, new hope 

Rain. Scotch mist. Mizzle. Drizzle. All the weathers. Except sun. Of course. Had to be. Leaving Iona it was not possible to look back and see anything had I wanted to. But as the curtains of mist descended the only possible mindset was to look forward in hope than to look back with yearning. 

Thank goodness for the Church. After five miles of trudging through constant wet, I sought shelter in a Church of Scotland parish church in Bunessan. Carpeted and inviting, it also had a working and available blow heater!! Everything got dried. New socks, new hope. 

Shelter has been much on my mind. When you are weary and wet and have no money for hot drinks and an excuse to sit in a cafe, where do you go. I found myself thanking God for all the Places of Welcome, all the Warm Spaces, all the Food Pantry projects and FoodBanks across the British Isles. Places for people to be known and loved and strangely warmed. 

Walking, you are made so much more aware of vulnerabilities and the huge dependence we have on the basics of shelter and warmth. 

When you are weary, what lifts you? The last mile is always the hardest. And I was losing strength. Fifteen miles in and a mile to go, I caught sight of an eagle soaring above Loch Scridain. And Isaiah 40 came to my rescue, motivating me to push through that last mile:. 

28 Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom.
29 He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary

Thinning

Thinking about ‘thin’

This pilgrimage is between two ‘thin’ places, Iona and Lindisfarne. Places where heaven touches earth in such a way that there seems barely a tissue paper separating the material and the spiritual, suggested Iona Community’s founder, George Macloud. 

Centuries of the practice of prayer in particular places may have something to do with this. A practice rooted in a sense of both earthly vulnerability and deep trust in the divine.  

Certainly these windswept islands are so vulnerable to the elements that they appear to have been worn thin by wind and wave and rain and sun. Thin in profile against the might of the sea and the vast space of sky. Green and grey squeezed flat by all hues of water, above and around. 

If pilgrims are drawn to thin places, do they become thin people too? And what does that mean? I think this is part of what I will be exploring these coming days. I expect to lose weight! But I expect also to become more vulnerable, less in control, more open and agile, more trusting in God and less weighed down by preoccupations. 

I wonder what you think about ‘thin’ places and ‘thin’ people? 

Till travelling days begin

Walking in Aidan's footsteps

'The horizon shrinks as you walk backwards from it, and the horizon expands as you walk towards it.' (Shane O'Mara, In Praise of Walking, pg75)

There is something so rewarding about walking, which we learn from childhood and those first early steps of freedom. It is to do with the idea of 'expansion flow' - how forward movement expands our horizons. Seeking to lay hold of the future is one of the main reasons we learn to walk facing forwards. This forward-facing attitude also speaks about the Way of faith. 

One of my favourite verses in all of Scripture is found in the apostle Paul's joyful letter to the Philippians. Here is his most horizon-expanding approach: 'Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.' (Philippians 3.13-14)

In the coming days, I will be walking in the footsteps of St Aidan (590-651). His horizons expanded as he travelled (by foot on an unknown route) from Iona, off the west coast of Scotland to Lindisfarne, in the north eastern tip of Northumbria. Straining forward, this Irish-born follower of Christ brought a new joyful and hope-filled way of life to the people of the North East. He walked everywhere, refusing horseback alternatives. And he would daily recite the psalms as he walked.

From July 31st to August 31st (which is the Feast Day of St Aidan), I hope to walk more than 300 miles between the two holy islands. I have set myself the challenge of learning the Psalms of Ascent (Psalms 120-134) off by heart! These are known as Pilgrim Psalms, recited by those who pilgrimed to Jerusalem for major feasts - psalms which Jesus would have known off by heart too.

I hope to blog from time to time with thoughts and photos of the landscape (as my phone signals and internet allow). As I strain forward, letting go of what went before, walking towards the rising sun each day, I look forward to sharing what I am learning. Please feel free to add your comments and share your insights.