A New Beginning

A Poem by the Sufi poet Hafiz

I AM
a hole in a flute
that the Christ’s breath moves through
LISTEN to this music.

I am the concert from the mouth of every creature
singing with the myriad chorus.

I AM a hole in a flute
that the Christ’s breath moves through
LISTEN to this music.

 

Camino—Day 36

April 30th
RUA to SANTIAGO

Wind and rain greeted me this day.
They seemed to weather the ‘spirit’ stirring in me.  For a few days now I have ‘felt’
that I had finished the Camino.  How could this be when I had not yet arrived in
Santiago? Hauntingly, perhaps, I did not wish to arrive to sense an ‘ending..’  Deep
down I knew it to be a new beginning…

I’m still the same, yet changed…How?  I cannot tell you.  I’ll need ‘space’ upon
returning home to sift through all the grains of wheat I’ve ‘plucked’ along
this journey.

Arriving in Santiago felt ’empty.’  Tears bathed my being as I gently placed my
companion (Stickey) with all the other pilgrim sticks that have made their way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The woman ‘gifting’ me with my certificate took my hand and said, “Well done.”
She paused with me in the moment—NO RUSHING.  I knew her to be a pilgrim.

I chose to attend the pilgrim Mass.  The cathedral was full…standing room only.  A
gentle woman religious entered the altar proper space and began to sing.  Her
voice, strong and prayerful, as if we were in heaven (and we are) opened every
hollowed place with awe.

Again—a silent rush of tears…a procession of male clergy and the voice of the
woman ‘lifting’ hearts in prayer.  It was the first moment in a long while I felt
sorrow.  I sensed a lack of equality, and as much as I wanted to run out, I looked
all around me.  The cathedral was packed with many faith-filled souls and with those of no faith—there was a shared solemn reverence.  I wept, and wept, and
wept.

I’m so ALIVE—free from so much, so much ‘information,’ system overload be it
religious, political, economic or the simple demands of connecting with friends.
This ‘journey’ ALONE has given me the gift of ‘being’ with self—a self I’ve enjoyed
to walk with…

As the ‘botafumeiro’ in the cathedral was swung—symbolic (originally) to
fumigate the sweaty pilgrims, the temple in me rose…an ‘air’ of cleansing needed.
AS I departed the cathedral, I thought of the thousands of pilgrims who gathered
in this place over the centuries—those coming to be blessed as they completed
the journey.  History has a way of touching those in need, and it is the “simple”
souls who understand the message.  These pilgrims have lived their years and the
years now live in them.  ‘They’ are the incense blessing the valleys, the mountain
tops, the country side, the streams and rivers, the farmlands, the flat terrain, the
soggy marshes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I began this journal with a question that has reverberated with me as I walked…

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
                                                                                                                   George Berkeley

What do you believe?
I believe some-thing hears the sound…I have been this tree walking each day
falling, rising—dying.  Yes, dying to a self that need not be ANYTHING but the
manifestation of the living presence of God within me.

So many souls I know AND love would prefer to walk around saying, “Mea Culpa
Mea Culpa.”  It’s easy to think we are NOT good enough, not worthy enough
because then we do not have to be the ‘LIGHT‘ each of us IS!

Shine BEAUTIFUL you—shine and reflect off the glow of EVERYONE you
encounter.  If your light is not received, if others envy you or cast aspersions
about your being, walk on gently…BUT never cover who you are.

Your roots are strong, and wherever you are planted, may your ‘garden’ in life be
a return to Eden—all things GOOD.  Don’t be afraid to eat the fruit!  Amen.

Camino—Day 34

April 28th
PALAS DE REI to ARZUA

“This is my simple religion…
There is no need for temples.
There is no need for complicated philosophy.
Our own brain, our own heart is the temple.
The philosophy is loving kindness & compassion.”   ~~~Dalai Lama~~~

 

An Encounter with Goodness

I rang the buzzer…
The door slowly squeaked open—
There in its ‘frame’—soft gray hair, a face…a body that has lived its years AND
she smiled placing her warm hand on my chilled wet face.  She ‘hung’ my soaked
rain gear and led me to the hostess—a middle aged GEM…who before she could
say “WELCOME” —THE CRONE HELD MY SHOULDERS AND GAVE ME A HUG OF
WELCOME—then disappeared.

I was shown to my room.  The fresh scent of sheets, a down comforter, a hot
shower—gifts from my hostess to me.  Later, I made my way downstairs for a bite
to eat—

THERE she was…THE CRONE—preparing supper.  The sweet aroma was feast
enough.

Again, she welcomed me to sit.  She was MARTHA and I felt like the young Mary.
“MARTHA” knew how to serve and she knew how to welcome the stranger.  She
knew how to be still and at the same time how to ‘PREPARE’ hearts for the way.

GOODNESS was all that played in my mind…
(Today I recalled yesterday’s ‘moment’)
She was the TEACHER…the sweetest simplicity given in all she touched.
(She needed no accolades) She sat with me while I ate and when I had finished
eating the banquet prepared, she blessed my left cheek and then my right with a
KISS…

An encounter with GOODNESS—
Now, I must go and BE the same.

***How fitting as I end this days’ journal entry that I come upon the words of
Mary Oliver’s WILD GEESE.  My knees no longer marred with callouses…FREE***

WILD GEESE

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a
hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your
body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell
You mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the
landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean
blue air, are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your IMAGINATION
calls to you like the WILD GEESE, harsh
and exciting—
Over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

                                      ~~~Mary Oliver~~~

Camino—Day 32

April 26th
SARRIA to PORTOMARIN

“…We cannot live in the past and we try in vain to live with the idea of
some future golden age.  The only place we can truly inhabit is the present.  The rest is fantasy—some painful, some pleasurable—some deceptive.”
(pg 248 / A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago)

When I AM ‘inside’
I AM far from lost—
It is the ‘closest’ place
to being found.

‘Outside’ of me
are the constant lures
pulling me AWAY from
the ‘inner’ freedom
I NOW know.

THIS ‘temple’ that I AM—
That each of us IS…is
NOT made of stone upon stone…

Every moment I breathe
I AM ALIVE with wonder,
and upon dying I will
be reborn into ALL that already is…

AND—I will know the ‘place’
as a first time
even as a part of me
has been here
all along.

 

Upon leaving the city,
dressed overhead two arching rainbows—

I’m NOT seeking signs
except the yellow WAYMARKERS—
visible signs.
Yet, ‘invisible graces’ illuminate
my every step…
NOW dancing with raindrops—
I reach my rural haven…
Nestled in trees, tucked alongside
the river—
The sun breaks the clouds sending
down shafts of LIGHT…heaven
all around
and NOW a hawk circles
above my head…
Screeching, screeching, screeching…
what a glorious chorus of
ALLELUIAS…
THIS is my church—
an ever present COMMUNITY
ignited with the breath of LIFE…
How can I help, from this day
forward, NOT to go in PEACE.

Camino—Day 30

April 24th
O’CEBREIRO to TRIACASTELA

“God is the One whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”
                                                                                                                         ~~~St Bonaventure

 

O’Cebreiro…this beautiful place felt like I was ‘resting’ in Eden.  EVERYWHERE I
looked, creation was birthing itself as if on a time lapse camera.
I sat outside most of the day writing, sketching and taking in some sustenance.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh, the vistas filled me with what no ‘food’ could sustain.

It was early evening when I spotted a man who passed me a few times this
afternoon gazing at my sketch… ‘Bravada, Bravada’ was all he said and we shared
an unspoken smile.

Now, as I sat quietly, he came and sat beside me…a man who had seen many
years—his face glowed.

Then, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Joseph.  Joseph from Rome.”

We managed a heartwarming conversation and we sat silently bathed in the
setting sun and in the mountains that stretched for interminable miles.

Then, Joseph from Rome, showed me his finger.  He had a large gash that he
managed to do on his own with his Swiss army knife.  His bandage was soaked
with blood.  No pharmacies on this lofty mountain haven.  “Wait, I will help.”  I
went to my room and pulled out a few medicated blister bandages.  Joseph, from
Rome, was delighted as I dressed his wound.  We shared a smile and he was gone.

Why am I writing about Joseph—Joseph from Rome?  I’m on this Camino de
Santiago, and it does carry with it a ‘charming’ male energy.  Joseph is my
father’s name…and today I walked (mindfully) with my dad.  If not for my dad, I
would not be here ‘walking.’

I ALWAYS was an adventurous child.  As I sat, I recalled a family outing to an
amusement park many years ago.  My mom had me wear a dress (That’s a whole
other story—but, an amusement park and a dress?)  I was only five and hurried to the
fish pond.  I cast my line and won a Roy Rodgers pin which I immediately
pinned to my dress—“High-Ho Silver Away.”  We went to friends nearby for a
swim and supper.  I loved the water though I couldn’t swim.  I played on the steps
until it was time for our meal.

The adults were chatting and my sister and brother were relaxed at the table. BUT,
it was time for Roy and me to go galloping—poolside seemed like the perfect
place.

Skipping along the edge (just like the path I’ve walked today in the rain), Roy somehow unclipped from my dress, flying though the air and landing right in the
deep end…he was sinking.  My pin—what was I to do?”

NATURALLY—I had to save him.  I jumped in.  No one heard the splash.
Did I mention I did not know how to swim?  I caught Roy before he sank to the bottom.
Instinct took over.  I began to kick, to move my arms, to hold my breath.  Try as I
might, my little body was not able to reach the surface.

THEN, Tonto came.  That’s my dad.  He happened to look up and saw my head
skimming the water.  He jumped right in—glasses, car keys, wallet…and, he rescued me.

It was a very melancholy ride home.  (I did not know what that word meant).  My
mother sat with me wrapping me in a towel and embracing me in her arms.  She
was NOT letting me go.  My sister and brother sat quietly in the back seat.  I saw
tears.  What I really wanted to tell them was—“I CAN SWIM,” but it was not the
time.  The next day our neighbors invited us to visit and to enjoy their pool.  I
immediately jumped in—NO FEAR…and I was swimming!  Never could get me out
of the water.  To this day, if you look closely, you can see
my gills (ha-ha!).

My dad also told stories—two I’ve never forgotten (both from the Bible).  The
first…the story of Sampson.  It would be a long time before I would cut my hair.
The second story, Joseph and his amazing coat of many colors.  A little of my dad
has rubbed off on me—story telling binds us together.  Today, I break open
Scripture stories in a NEW way…

I know that my dad would have loved to walk the Camino with me, but his legs no
longer do the miles.  Walks along the ocean are his Camino.

Dad, this day I carried you in my HEART.  You always knew I followed my ‘inner’
path, and you never asked me to go any other way than what was ‘right’ for me…

If I haven’t told you enough—
I whispered it in the wind this day.

I love you Joseph Mattucci—

sandy mattucci, your daughter

Camino—Day 28

April 22nd
VILLAFRANCA del BIERZO to HERRERIAS

“…Just like moons and the suns, with the certainty of tides, just like hopes
springing high, Still I’ll rise…”                                                                                                         

                                                                                                        ~~~Maya Angelou

 

This morning I was given three options…I could embark on one of three separate
roads which would ultimately connect along the path and lead to THIS day’s
destination…

Path three would guide me into the mountains.  One was encouraged to travel
alongside someone because the “Way” markers were NOT always easily visible.
The vistas were beyond amazing as the guidebook pointed out.  My entire being
responded, “YES” and then it breathed…softly proclaiming, “No.”  Not long ago,
my ego would not have bothered to read the other options.  Of course, I
would have thought, “This IS the ONLY way.”

Path two wound through some steep grades—markers were clear and the guide
book described the stunning vistas that one would view.  The path circled itself
away from the sounds of traffic.

Path one offered the most direct route alongside the roadway and the river.  It
was a serene path—no hidden obstacles, no steep grades, no narrow passages…it was
covered with trees blocking the sun, providing shade and detouring heavy
amounts of rain.  We’ve reached that ‘part’ of the Camino where rain IS the
forecast…the winds from the Atlantic Ocean in priceless harmony with the majestic
mountains. As I’m writing, lightning and thunder display a beauty all their own,
while the cows in the valley, just below my window, have bedded down.  The
bells that were heard clanging around their necks rattled about in between each
break of thunder.

I embarked upon path one—there was a softened sense of humility in this choice
for me.  As soon as I STEPPED out the door, the rain began to fall.  Some-THING,
Some-one was/is guiding my steps because to be on the other paths during
inclement weather carries great risks.  Even in sunny weather, the trail has its
hidden hazards.  Mindfulness is a constant refrain.

The persistent sound of raindrops pecking at my gear was delightful.  It wasn’t a
cold day so the rain became my welcome companion.

There was a brief moment of clearing.  Before me, a rainbow…its colors unfolded
with a brilliant vibrancy between the casts of darkened clouds.

Each day parallels life—
Always changing, never the same and always filled with wonder…
I am ONE with the roadway and the river…

 

Camino—Day 26

April 20th
RABANAL DEL CAMINO to MOLINASECA

 

This day’s path asked of me to leave a stone from my homeland.  I left not only a
stone, but a flood gate of tears—

Even before standing at Cruz de Ferro (Pile of Burden)—cross at the highest point (1,504m)
of The Way of St James (French Way), in Foncebadon…my emotions stirred—

I could not begin to understand why or from where my tears came…and, it did not
matter.  It was NOT sorrow…it was some-thing beyond bliss…no word could fill all
that ‘beat’ in my heart—

The ascent to ‘this’ place…hauntingly serene was exhausting, but I felt I was in
some magical garden…life bursting at every seam.

Yes, I brought a stone.  But, not only one.  I brought a stone from my sis of heart who asked me to lay it down for her.  So much emotion in her heart-shaped stone which she found in
the Grand Canyon.  One day she’ll walk this way and she’ll know her burden has already
been laid down.  Another kindred spirit ‘gifted’ me with a shell before I left home.  I told her where I would leave her shell.  She ‘holds’ so many persons near, and this day as I put down the shell, I prayed her arms were a little lighter—she loves fully.  AND, my stone…it was one I shared with a ‘Pal’ back home.  The word printed on it—‘SILENCE.’  I gently placed silence on
the pile with the other stones.  It was NOT because it has been a burden—it has been
a gift…freedom from useless noise, chatter.  Now I’ll bathe in the joy of tears…the
droplets that form—BECAUSE…

Every step I walked…Creation’s Temple.

Camino—Day 24

April 18th
VILLADANGOS del PARMO to ASTORGA

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.  Now I know
only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”                                                                                                                                                            1 Corinthians 13:12

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Along Bell Towers…

The sound of the bells in the majestic towers can be heard ‘clanging’ in the distance.
Soon I’m standing in their hallowed echoing chamber—CLANG, CLANG, CLANG…
the vibrations ring through ‘all’ fibers of my dwelling place.

Now…I AM mindful of the bell tower and the clanging between my ear-drums—ENDLESS.
The continuity of the ringing bells limits my ability to hear, to listen.
Still, with the clanging—beating, beating, beating I AM learning to ALLOW the
NOISE to become MUSIC—sweet intoxicating songs welling up inside me.  When
the clanging ceases, I AM left with a melodious symphony of silence…untouched.

My mind holds this space as if two hands joined in prayer—EVERY moment of life
a meditation of extraordinary wonder.

The bells toll—I walk singing as I go…Wisdom in the wakes of every stanza unwritten.

Camino—Day 22

April 16th
MANSILLA de LAS MULAS to LEON

 

Stained Glass Window…

The mighty Cathedral stood in the center of the plaza…one hundred twenty-five stained glass images each telling a story of the Gospels and the legends of the Saints.  The chief function of the medieval church—to instruct the illiterate.  AMAZINGLY, the people saw the LIGHT in each story.

As the sun ‘pinched’ the glass sending a glorious array of colors throughout the ‘dark’ haven of the church’s ‘inner’ structure, this cathedral was ONE that allowed the light to ENTER.  The ‘ones’ who understood—the ONES who did NOT spend time ‘thinking,’ BUT instead, LIVED the message—REFLECTED BACK narratives of the holiness of God they became.

I AM ‘immersed’ as if ONE of these people…PILGRIMS!

Yesterday…many of us who began the Camino in St. Jean three weeks earlier, learned that two pilgrims who embarked with us died on that snowy trail.  As I write, I cannot hold back my tears.

As I walked today, I saw a woman with her husband.  She was in much pain, but she WALKED—each step a memory.  When she returns HOME…depending on how far she is able to travel…her leg will be amputated.  Another gentleman promised his BELOVED he would carry her to the END OF THE WORLD.  He spreads her ashes along the WAY…the last stop—FINISTERRE (The End of the World) and he will have fulfilled his promise.

Each story is ANOTHER stained glassed window…ANOTHER Gospel TRUTH revealed, lived, celebrated, grieved, broken, healed and, yes, REBORN into the Cosmic reality of the ETERNAL NOW.  All things are part of each other… NOTHING separate…the LIGHT has dispelled any separation.

Camino—Day 20

April 14th
SAHAGUN to EL BURGO RANERO

 

This temple…my Body (A Tree)

Woven into the Earth, my toes, life’s roots, curl through the mud…giving thanks to my soles which hold them, allowing them to linger in the soft blanket of grass.  My soles celebrate my heels— a strong base which allows me to stand.  My heels embrace my ankles—the soft part of the branch that flexes, giving mobility to the root system of THIS Divine being.  My ankles support my calves…those muscular barrels holding the knees…the knees carrying the weight of the Temple’s ‘top’ and allowing the roots to dig deeper and deeper (especially if injured) finding a way to continue to grow.  The knees embrace the quads—the TRUNK of this sacred tree.  They ‘hold’ this dwelling place—and even if MOVED, the trunk holds a place sustaining the pelvis, tender areas, protected by bark and climbing into the stomach—the storage bin for nutrients sustaining this ‘being’ day in and day out.  Above the stomach, front and back—the CORE…the HEART center of MYSTERY…beating within the cage of ribs, held by the spine allowing this SHOOT the ability to bend and sway.  The breast plate—the chest adds dimensions to this living, breathing temple and near to it on both sides, arms, branches for gathering, caring, holding, pulling—praying…when the arm’s hands rest in prayer.

The neck bends—sometimes ‘upward’ in awe and at times ‘downward’ in humility giving thanks for what so often is forgotten and no longer remembered.  NOW—we arrive at the HEAD…there is a mouth which speaks, BUT loves the gentleness of quiet…the nose that captures scents—(amazing how much it can take in…)  two ears—allowing us to hear and listen…our eyes—gateway to light—inviting us to gaze upon the dwelling place of the MOST HIGH.  Finally…the CROWN—if ENLIGHTENED, none of anything would be if the toes inching into the soils of time did not continue to feed off creation’s very presence—birthing, groaning, laboring not yesterday, not tomorrow, BUT EVERY single day.

This Temple…my body—a Tree, uprooted finding LIFE in being human.

Camino—Day 18

April 12th
CARRION de LOS CONDES to CALDADILLA de la CUEZA

Traveling with NO-bodys

They come from Germany, Brazil, Idaho, Florida, Australia, and Seattle—

They traveled from Switzerland, Netherlands, Chicago, Italy, Finland and Connecticut—

They arrived in St Jean Pied de Port from Argentina, California, Korea, UK (London), Spain and France, their homeland, to begin the Camino de Santiago

Every ONE comes with a ‘personal’ intention for walking.  The question IS not what one does in LIFE, but rather, “WHY DOES ONE WALK?”.

There are a ‘host’ of answers—truly Holy Communion…

Some walk to find themselves.  Along the way they befriend one soul after another—a way NOT to listen to what their hearts seek?  It doesn’t matter…it’s their Camino.

Others walk because they’ve lost a child or their soul’s companion.

Some ‘face’ a terminal illness—if their days end on the Camino…their life complete.

Others walk for religious reasons, AND many for NO religious reasons at all.  In fact, they’ve lost their belief in God, BUT they’ve returned to walk this Camino again and again because it has changed them.

AND, there are those who walk for spiritual reasons…each foot step a prayer…

A whispered “NAMASTE’ sparks and endless smile and no other words seem necessary.

So, I’m here, walking with the most incredible NO-bodys.

It’s not important if you own a business, run a company—
It matters NOT if you’ve authored a book or recorded numerous albums (did I say albums?  Now, that’s dating me).

No one really cares if you’re a scientist, a doctor or an engineer—

It doesn’t matter if you’re a mother or father, sister or brother—

We, a ‘collective’ community of pilgrims, join hands with ancient pilgrims of our past who first walked this walk—

Their NAMES…SO MANY—UNKNOWN…
Simple, EXTRAORDINARY no-bodys walking The Way–

What is it we’ll find when we reach SANTIAGO or beyond?

It hardly matters…what matters most is this present NOW.

We, No-bodys, seek NOTHING more.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to understand.

Camino de Santiago—Day 16

April 10th
CASTROJERIZ to FROMISTA

“…I am reminded how much my own life has been squandered in posturing.  The presence that comes from making something LOOK RIGHT on the surface, while ignoring the underlying lack of integrity and the feeling of discontent that follows.  Tamed person (man/woman) addicted to the approval of family & friends masking the wild person (man/woman) desperate for the freedom that comes with AUTHENTIC living while painting a larger canvas…”
(pg 148/ A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago)

For the past several days now I have walked the landscape called the MESETA—the peace & quiet of crop fields.  As I journeyed through this region, I have been especially mindful of the Parable of the Sower (and of my dear kindred Soul, Grace, who walks with me).

In many ways the parable I’m recalling, plays itself out in reverse of how it is shared.  It is the springtime of the year—so much is beginning to bud with NEW life.  There has been so much greenery and the wheat fields are FULL—they grow on the better soil.

I press forward and come to rough, stony earth, my feet feeling every bit of the broken terrain as does my spirit.  A strong will transcends my being—pushing me, driving me, as the BLISTERS create NEW soles.

The parable of the sower ‘sinks’ deeply into me—scenes of my life reveal my walking ‘in’ each terrain AND each terrain a part of the journey…my life.  I’m always growing and then there are the moments when NOTHING seems to be happening yet, in reality, EVERYTHING is happening…I’m simply NOT ripened to SEE.

My bruised feet, broken, leaking—healing themselves each day.

THIS Temple, in HARMONY with the soils I walk, brings me HERE to Fromista and the Church of Saint Martin.  Three hundred nine figures can be seen within these stone walls—various images of vegetables, geometric shapes, animals and monstrous human representations.  They contain stories, fables, endowed with meaning, and yet, lost in our contemporary culture.

Parts of the elements contained within the figures represent stories from Scripture leading to Christian doctrine.  Motifs were used to speak to the people who understood what we would call pagan expressions.  Still, it was through STORY…connection to the Universal MYSTERY…that I stand here NOW believing in what cannot be transmitted in words, but through every breath I take I am a part of CHRIST’S unending liturgy of Life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Camino—Day 14

April 8th
BURGOS to HORNILLOS del CAMINO

Outside the Church Doors

Outside the doors of the
Cathedral…there she sat.

The stony pavement beneath her—
cold and damp.

She held a small basket
in her hand…
She spoke not a word
and barely raised her head.

I dropped a coin
into her basket…
I just happened to have one
within reach…

A soft voice spoke, “Gracias”…
Something ‘inside’ me barely could
look her in the eye…

Who really was the pilgrim here?
Who of us knew the meaning of
the word humility?

I’ve NEVER sat ‘hoping’ my cup would
get filled…
she sat for an entire day trusting
that enough persons would come along so that
she’d receive just enough to feed
her family.

Does she have family?
I don’t know…

The ‘mammoth’ Cathedral NOW before me—
Inside a treasure chest of silver
and gold…
BUT, no bread to break.

Christ tipped the tables—
He’d begin by feeding this woman.

That woman is ‘the temple’ where the
Divine does dwell—

She’s adorned in what is probably
her only wear

AND, she “GIVES THANKS.”

I softly hear above, the NOISE of
the clanging bells…

‘This is MY Body…’
Outside the Church Doors.

Camino—Day 12

April 6th
ATAPUERCA to BURGOS

“In a gentle way, you can shake the wor(l)d.”   Gandhi

So…What Now?

The ‘space’ was EMPTY
only the coverings remained.

So…what NOW?
what could this possibly mean?

The last several days
played over and over in my mind
like a bad dream—
I wish I could wake and it would
ALL be as it was…

But He said—
He said so MANY things.
I set aside EVERYTHING
to follow Him.

His messages, stories so simple—
those who you’d think would not get it
‘GOT IT’ and when we were alone—
Together, HE explained ‘THE MEANING’
behind words…some-TIMES I got it.

Right at this moment
NO-thing makes sense…
Hiding is the ONLY safe thing to do.

I followed Him—
NOW He’s gone…what NOW?

I’m no longer the SAME
And still I AM who I am…

He showed me how simple truth can be—
how easy to love without the expectations
of a return…

I’ll try to live this WAY…
it will NOT be easy—
the world, many of its people won’t
understand—
The world, ‘creation’ gets it…look how
simply it moves with the seasons
AND Lives…

I ‘see’ HIM…He’s NOT GONE

He is in ALL

So…what NOW?
I’ll keep walking alongside Him.

 

 

These words flowed from my heart.  I walked this morning—a painted orange hue landscape behind my back…in front of me the light of the moon casting silhouettes along the country side.  A flock of sheep—undisturbed…a few ‘clangs’—the little bell dangling from their necks.  It was as if the service began.  I  AM in ‘c’hurch with a small ‘c.’  The fragrance of spring flowers opening—sweet incense to my nostrils!  I climbed a stony path…it seemed to go on forever.  ‘Stickey,’ ever faithful, and Pilgrim Perk holding up her end.  I looked up at this moment to find a single cross at the top of a hill.  It did NOT speak of VIOLENCE…it spoke of an END to HATRED & WAR and it stood—LOVE being its ONLY message.

Last night while dining, I met a mother & daughter (she might have been eleven).  We had passed each other along the way these past few days—glances exchanged, a simple understanding…’we’ are walking…

THIS eve the mother spoke.  She would take a bus to Leon as the road was a bit too long for her little girl…not the physical demands, but the mental fortitude one needs to walk the Camino.  The mother spoke…”Today, when we reached ATAPUERCA (the place where the earliest human remains were discovered in Europe dating back over 900,000 yrs.), we danced.”  The expression on the child’s face ‘glowed’—THE MOTHER…holy is she.

How can one not DANCE?
I hope your feet are moving—

Camino—Day 10

April 4th (Holy Saturday)
SANTO DOMINGO de la CALZADA to BELORADO

 “…Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water, clean floor.  After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water, clean floor…”
(pg 120/ A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago)

Clouds and a soft rain blanketed this Saturday.  I recalled a story by Diarmuid O’Murchu at an Easter Triduum Retreat I attended several years ago—

A little girl sat in a classroom filled with many young children.  The teacher decided to question the children…she asked if they knew the significance of each of the final days before Easter.  “What happened on Holy Thursday?”  All the children raised their hands explaining what took place on Holy Thursday…all except for one little girl at the back of the classroom.  The teacher was overjoyed by the children’s excitement, but made a mental note of the little girl’s lack of response.  “Well, what happened on GOOD Friday?”  There was a pause—BUT then bodies leaped from their desks except the little girl in the back of the room.  Now, the teacher was concerned and could not concentrate.  Before thinking, she asked “What happened on Saturday?”  Now, she herself, was not certain.  Not a hand rose, BUT in the back row the little girl raised her hand.  The teacher, mystified, paused and said to the child, “Your know what happened on Saturday?”  She nodded her head and responded— “That is when Jesus descended into hell and went to get his good friend Judas!”

There was NOT a dry eye among the retreatants.  Today, as I recalled this story, my eyes were not dry.  Suddenly from behind, I was joined by a young man who walked beside me yesterday for part of the path.

He taught me two Spanish words:
1. ULTREIA…meaning WALK and 2. SUSEIA…meaning ‘up’…one pilgrim wishes the first word to the other and the other pilgrim responds SUSEIA.

He knew enough English that for some time we broke open parts of ‘our’ stories—
Then we began singing, “It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart…without saying a word you light up the dark…you say it BEST when you say NOTHING at all.”
We both began to laugh and then walked along quietly.

My path came to an end for the day, but he was going on.  He was 28 years old…lost his father two years ago.  He stopped…removed his Camino shell from his pack, and handed it to me.  He found one with an eagle painted on the inside.  He gave me his shell…the one he carried for his dad AND he found a new one today.

I accepted the gift and said, “ULTREIA“—he smiled and said, “SUSEIA“—we embraced and went our WAY…truly a Soul Brother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AND…with that I was mindful of a dynamic bond of women I’ve come to call ‘Soul Sisters.’

My first ‘gathering’ with these women took place at Mercy Center…Madison, CT.
Edwina Gateley celebrated this retreat.  I attended several more programs she facilitated.  The unique part was that I re-gathered with women from previous retreats led by E. Gateley.  One retreat, in  particular, again at Madison (my true Baptismal Place), connected me to a special Sister, my kayak pal.  She offered me the use of her kayak.  Out of the clear blue she simply said, “Go for it.”  That was all I needed—I rose early, the sun still finding its way.  I sat in the kayak, it held me like a womb, and I pushed off.  Out I went, paddling with all my might, further and further from shore,  I finally STOPPED…I cried out, “I AM HERE—where are YOU?”  Silently, the little kayak began rocking back and forth, back and forth and SHE sprayed me with a mist of sea water and seemed to say, “I’ve waited for you my child—I’ve been waiting all ALONG.”  I saw before me a feminine face and my heart strings tugged and pulled and said, “Don’t GO.  Don’t make me go back.”  I did not understand what happened.  All I thought I understood began to CHANGE…my life NEVER could go back…and still it WAS the same.

Many of the women I met were changed by this Feminine FACE and , I believe, our bond was/is the face of God that we see in one another.

I inherited a unique name from these, my Soul Sisters…it was/is affectionately ‘The Plumber.’  A group of us decided that every Monday at 9 a.m.—wherever we were, whatever we were doing we would pause MINDFUL of our connection and breathe a prayer into the Universe.  I decided to post a thought or poem on those Mondays—to be used or not used.  I could NEVER foresee what has unfolded.  Gradually, I extended the Monday messages to the Soul Brothers in my life AND others looking for ‘COMMUNITY.’  I was encouraged to place my reflections and photography into the weekly missives which I post on THURSDAYS.  Reaching out to others has moved my life.  The number of recipients has expanded, and others are playing it forward.  The blessings I receive are endless.  What others share with me, and not share, has become a spring of life flowing waters.  At the end of each week, I collect NO check.  But the payment I receive—NO treasure chest could hold—

In gratitude for you, Soul Sisters & Brothers.

The MOST fitting words tucked in my journal this day:

“The planet does not need more successful people.  The planet desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of all kinds.”

                                                                                                                    ~Dalai Lama

*Remembering a Soul Sister taken too soon from this world…Carmelyn Hevey*

 

 

Camino —Day 8

April 2nd (Holy Thursday)
LOGRONO  to NAJERA

“…THERE IS NO WAY TO HAPPINESS—happyness is THE WAY!”
(pg 104/ A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago)

This morning I set out under the stars—the eve before this day I was wakened from a sound sleep to DRUMMING.  I rushed to the window and looked down into the streets below…a procession was under way.  A large number of men CARRIED the Sorrowful Mother who was adorned by flowers while drums were beaten by others who were draped in costume.  I could smell the sweet incense rise.  Behind the MOTHER, two men carried the cross.  Singing heralded the festivities and the music lulled me to sleep…

I was joined this morning by a few pilgrims.  Suddenly, we were interrupted by a young man who insisted that we were OFF the Way.  I pointed to the arrows, but he continued to insist.  A police car came up the roadway and I waved the officers down…they assured us that we were FOLLOWING the WAY!

I whispered a blessing for the young man—whatever his intent…I’m trusting an ‘inner’ way—

The sun rose from its easel painting scenes I’ve NEVER experienced (again, it is a first time for me—or is it?)  A pristine body of water lay before me.  Young boys were casting their reels—OFF from school because it is HOLY THURSDAY…little fisher men.  When they were out of sight, the path took a curve around the LAKE and there…a family of SWANS.  A tear formed and then another—I WAS SO HAPPY.  After my grandmother (affectionately called Nanny) died, the swan became her messenger to me.  How fitting—on Holy Thursdays I would visit 7 churches with her (tradition).  She was NOT a learned woman, but she exuded KINDNESS to me.  She always let me be a child growing up…I didn’t always have to be responsible.  I walked with her to church EVERY Sunday…I couldn’t wait until she gave me my quarter to go and light a candle.  She NEVER demanded that I be anyone but who I was.  Church attendance was NOT a weekly solitary EVENT.  Nanny began each morning in prayer—on her knees…she did the same before she tucked herself in at night.  I was mindful of her ‘gazing’ out the window.  She was somewhere else and often I’d say to myself, “I WANT TO GO THERE!”  When I sat beside her in church, she’d look at me and say, “We are here for ONLY ONE reason—the ONE who has RISEN.”  I thought I understood, but what did I know?

Today, WALKING, everything is RISING—including me.  THIS IS THE CHRIST message dwelling in my holy temple.

I felt Nanny’s smile in the dainty yellow flowers.  Before her time in this world came to an end, she was unable to speak because of a stroke.  I would lay my head on her belly, her fingers in my hair… (I felt them again as the wind blew).  I raised my head looking into her eyes and she folded her hands in prayer—this uneducated woman…A Theologian who ALWAYS believed.  She needed no SAVING.  GRACE was sufficient in her living and her dying.  “What ‘sweeter communion’ could feed me this day?”

 

Songs began to flood my mind—“Joy is like the Rain” and the one of young Mary going off to her cousin Elizabeth, the one who also held a child in her ANCIENT WOMB.  Yes, MT Winter, a professor at Hartford Seminary, my mentor, was instrumental in cultivating the feminine in the ‘body’ of so many of us (sisters) in the Women’s Leadership Institute (WLI).  These women are in my mind and in my heart as I walk the Camino and I sense their “being” with me.

Today I recalled MT’s book Eucharist with a small “e”…fitting this day as I walked into church and as I sat for some moments THINKING about that “PASSOVER” meal—living it in a NEW way after MT put flesh on it for me as she does in so many instances in my life (without even realizing).

I felt myself in that room with Christ and His friends who gathered with Him.  When He says “THIS IS MY BODY,” He meant everyone in front of Him…He meant ME and YOU!  We are the LIVING body of Christ and EVERY TIME we eat it, it is a banquet of LOVE.  Often I forget that what I consume becomes a part of me and I a part of it—the connections are ETERNAL.

How , how can I NOT be HAPPY…?

“I am the joy in your tomorrow; when all is lost you still remain…”
(Deep gratitude MT—and all you Ladies who are and have been part of WLI)

Camino de Santiago—Day 6

March 31st
ESTELLA to LOS ARCOS

 

How do I begin to pen what has MOVED me when so much within me is STILL MOVIN’?

I walked in so much BLISS today.  I stopped, gazed upon the rising sun enveloping the landscape as tears rolled down my cheeks drenching the soils beneath my boots.  “Thank you God for this Life!”  So many persons came into ‘focus.’  I clicked snapshots and became ever mindful of a teacher in my life, Jan Phillips.  I took my first ‘real’ photography workshop with Jan AND since then I’ve not stopped SHOOTING!  I gave thanks for her with every ‘image’ that came before me…that whispered, “NOW, click NOW.”  I’m mindful of ‘all’ the women Jan has ‘brought’ together.  Many of those ‘sisters’ remain etched in the fabric of my life…
(MOST especially the women from the International Women’s Writer’s Guild)

Jan’s life is “loving kindness” AND it was she who told me things about myself that I heard before, yet didn’t believe.  Now I do…

“Because the One I love lives inside you I lean as close to you as I can…”

Yes, that refrain remained with me as I walked…silently I hummed, and hummed, and hummed.  I’m amazed at how my legs have strengthened…my blistered feet callousing over letting me know that we’re going to do this, Sandy.

I don’t know a single pilgrim without BLISTERS…needles & thread are sold out, tape is a priceless commodity.  Blister bandages are worth more than gold.

I laugh to myself when I think of the pilgrims who traversed this land—NO way markers, NO REI Backpacks, NO Merrell boots, NO walking poles, NO ‘food’ stops to purchase a pilgrim’s lunch or a hot coffee.  These early pilgrims did NOT have dry-fit clothes, sunscreen, rain gear—AND they walked…not to punish themselves, but as a journey of forgiveness (and THIS could be understood in many forms).

I reached Los Arcos in the afternoon…there was some on-going construction so MARKERS to the center were a bit skewed.  Out she came…the most beautiful “Crone,” bending to pick some fresh lavender.  Her hair was soft as snow, and as she rose, she looked into my eyes and said, “Buen Camino.”  SHE walked with me enough of the way to get me to the path.

I walked to the church.  The doors were locked so I went beyond the arch to capture a photo.  An older gent greeted me with “Buen Camino” and I inquired as to the time the church doors open.  He spoke no English and my Spanish was ‘poco’, BUT we understood each other. ‘Cinco” he responded.  He put his hands together in prayer…gently took my shoulders in his hands…kissed my left cheek and then my right.  What could I say but MUCHAS GRACIAS.

I walked back through the arch and noticed a little man coming out of the church.  I addressed him, “Sir,” just before he locked the door.  “Come, come in for a momento.”  He said he’d be back.  I ENTERED and ‘the BEAUTY caught my breath.’  I heard, ‘it is the same BEAUTY that is inside you…’ and the bells began to toll.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I did not ask the three individuals whom I met if I might take their photo…I WISHED to hold the images of these persons in my MIND’S eye as Eckhart’s words spilled over my OPENED soul… “May your eyes be the eyes through which God sees YOU!”  I’m seeing God EVERYWHERE and the most majestic temples that have held my breath ARE the natural landscapes…no doors, no windows, NEVER locked—always there even for the eye that forgets to STOP to see!

The sun was vibrant today.  I sat in the square and ordered my first coke and a pizza with pepperoni…yes, I did.  I ate the WHOLE thing and licked my fingers.  No, I did not forget my manners—well, perhaps I did for a moment.

Some know—if ever this be read…I’m NOT to eat the food I devoured.  A long story.  In 2005, I was diagnosed with Systemic Mastocytosis.  What in God’s name is that?  That was my response when the diagnosis was presented to me.  So many serious turning points at/in that moment in my life.

While my faith has always been my guide & strength, stressors were ‘beating’ me.  I found my way or a way found me to Dr. Mariana Castells (Brigham & Women’s Hospital, Boston, MA) and to a society tirelessly, supportively, compassionately working on a cure for this dis-ease.
I’ve overcome countless hurdles under her care.  Presently I’m in a benign stage ever aware to care for body and soul…AND, I’m living gratefully.  I might have a mast cell incident later, a few extra red speckles under the skin—BUT, the pizza was worth it—mmm-GOOD!

I could wait no longer to walk this Camino.  I came upon some impasses that attempted to ‘block’ this pilgrimage, but there are ‘special’ people who helped make this journey possible for me.  I AM supposed to be here in this moment because there will NEVER be another moment like this—the rest of my days.  NEVER!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Camino de Santiago—Day 4

March 29th (Palm Sunday)
Pamplona to Puente La Reina

 

 

The Hill of Forgiveness/Alto del Perdon

For Whom the Bell Tolls—
Your being stirred me, Hemingway..
I heard the bells clanging outside my window—
“I HEARD”~~~Pamplona had its mystical moments for me as soon as I stood outside its cathedral— (that was yesterday eve).  Today—all the temples.

Atop the Hill of Forgiveness, wouldn’t you know it—I found a donkey.  He wasn’t real, but he did ‘whinny’ confirming the one who rode a mule this day—2,000 years ago…to the Holy City of Jerusalem.  It stood atop this hill.  The wind blew mightily ‘opening’ the gates to what now faced me—ME!

I’ve come to ‘forgive me’ on this little hill high up in reach of the clouds.  I had come to forgive my ‘knee’—

It gave out some years ago ‘changing’ my entire world.  My hopes, dreams, desires all thrown as if out a window.

I was a Peace Officer.  I made it through the physical rigors, written exams, polygraph tests, oral boards, interview one, Chief interview.  I became a Police Officer.  Suddenly, injury took away my life’s dream.

The knee injury I sustained took away my ability to ‘run’— I used to run…it was my prayer as well as my escape.  You can call prayer a bit of an escape, but it also let me work through ‘topsy-turvey’ life dramas…now the ability to run was taken—GONE!

For months my knee was in a permanent bend…I walked with crutches.  My mind raced and I cried, “could I ever walk again?”

These were trying times…every fiber of my being stretching, breaking, until no elastic was left.

I was adrift at sea without paddles, but I learned, re-learned to use my hands.  Now I was sketching portraits of persons.  Unbeknownst to me, at first, they became ‘images’ of people from the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament.  Their faces emerged on my blank canvas.  I sketched many faces of men and women who exemplified persons to me in this life…a new understanding, or an old understanding found a NEW way to be born.

This was Sandy—artist, writer…creator…sharer of story—AND I learned to walk.  I had to retire because of my injury, but the time of rehabilitation allowed me moments of grace.  I had to face me and say, “No—not anymore…this is WHO I AM.”  I walk NOW in gratitude for this knee which carefully guards me, and it, with each descent and every ascending curve.

My knee speaks—“slow down, stop, look out a while” and my being honors the message.  I never was ‘angry’ with the knee—I simply wanted/continue to want to play and the knee responds, “Don’t you ever stop…together we’ll always find a way.”

Many persons who traverse this Camino walk with injuries, serious diagnosis, grief and an abundance of ‘things’ weighted on their backs.  Each day I walk becomes a little easier to make because I am able to forgive.

I have little with me.  Yet, it is ALL I need.  I’m mindful of all I do own and I shudder asking myself, “What for?”  The ONLY ‘gift’ I want most in  my pack is LOVE.  I’m mindful of those back home ‘walking’ with me in spirit.  I’m astonished and bathed in my own tears of being.  I wish I were able to tell each person how he/she appeared in my mind when I looked out at something
OR SOME-THING
as it showed up in that moment AND…

AND there SHE was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I knew it was she…a statue hidden in trees.  I slowed down…I’m not certain why, but when I reached Her, I sat down.  Her words to my heart…”You child, have beheld my Son…NOW, I behold you, my daughter.  Go, bring love into the world.  Care no longer what others think, feel or say because you embrace a feminine face of God.  You embrace God in all things for God LIVES in you…Be NOT Afraid.”

The remainder of my walk put me outside/in front of one temple after another.

I stood facing each structure and whispered, “I’m a temple, too” …and as I passed each church, the bells rang.

There was only one church whose bell did not ring out, BUT the tiniest dog appeared as if out of nowhere, ‘barking’ in delight.  When I finally arrived in Puente La Reina, I stepped into the church countless centuries old.  ‘Inner’ stirrings began again and I was mindful of Hildegarde, Jullian, Mechtild…Holy Women who KNEW God.  These women lived the message through their lives amidst grave injustices…still they LOVED.  This day—I give thanks for those women and today’s women (EVERY WOMAN) who finds the courage to be who she is meant to be in the world, cutting all the cords binding her by contrived, manipulative tools holding women in ‘A PLACE.’  Our place is in all things beside our brothers, and this day as I write my last words and begin to sketch PUENTE LA REINA—renamed the Queen’s bridge—Dona Mayor commanded the Romanesque bridge be built to support safe movement for medieval pilgrims,

I am humbled by those pilgrims—
They walked with NOTHING!

Camino de Santiago—Day 2

March 27th
Roncesvalles to Zubiri

Who is the man above AND why is he here in this journal?

Let me begin by saying that this morning’s WALK began with my shadow way out in front of me…

Seems my shadow might know me better or it’s walking ahead ‘checking’ out the terrain—the ONE beneath my feet and the terrain of my heart.  I’m writing my heart—words flowing in each step…I’m mindful of the man above—ERNEST HEMINGWAY.  He spent time writing in Roncesvalles (he spent time throughout Spain—writing)…tomorrow I journey to Pamplona.
Hemingway…the riding of the bulls…I don’t think I’ll ‘grab’ hold of any horns while there, BUT…with me, one never knows.  Walking along with my shadow, I reflected on Hemingway’s work, The Old Man & the Sea.  I’m not on a fishing trip here, BUT wait—perhaps, I AM.  I’ve cast myself into the wind—my line is dangling so very freely.  There are moments I ‘capture’ SOME-thing…the sound of the bells dangling from grazing sheep in the fields…from the cows as we stop and stare ONLY a moment…a field with horses grazing…the morning air painting their breath steaming from out of their nostrils…birds chirping each its own symphony—playing on simply because they can.  I hear footsteps from behind—Pilgrims… “Buen Camino” and off they go.  Every once in a while the reality of a car down below curving a bend in the road…I don’t see it but I know it’s there.  A river runs by knowing its flow and pouring itself over the edges because the thawing snow adds to the current.  I’ve captured so much in this solitary day, AND yet—I’ve captured NO-thing.  I’m fishing with a line connecting me to ALL things and at the same time possessing NOTHING.  I look at my life, and when I think something “MINE”—like the old man and the sea…he caught the BIG FISH…so big he could NOT hurl it in, I sit back and reflect.  He carried the fish alongside the boat attempting to get it back—seeking a PRIZE, but in the end what HE thought HIS was devoured.  When he ARRIVED, there was NO catch to be seen.  Would anyone BELIEVE his story?  Would anyone believe my story or care about the words that spill from this pen?  It doesn’t matter…

THIS MOMENT…I’m following my shadow…the very font of life dwelling inside me silently laughing and crying—
“I AM HERE…I AM HERE…” what matters is the BEING—being present, rushing nowhere, getting nowhere except the reality from which I came.  It was my time to be there and now I’m here in this moment THAT passed, that played itself out never again to be.

Time has become something NEW.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Body Clock

I’ve lost my watch
AND
this is good…

The hands I NOW count on
need no circular face to wind around.

My body clock
wakes me before dawn
catching the moon and its stars in
dazzling display.

Before the rising of the sun I’m
out…the chill of the air causes me
to bow—I cup my hands in
gratitude
and LIGHT begins to RISE.

I trust in this time—
the sun pushes itself in front of
Me…I walk in its zenith
and even when the clouds appear
I know it there…NEVER diminishing
its fiery flame—such power…
enormous really.
I’m drawn to the sun’s warmth
from THIS glorious distance—
it touches me AND IF I ACTUALLY touched it—I’d be consumed.

Dusk approaches…
the hands of my body’s clock
know the world is closing its eyes…
its tired face just now over my shoulder…

It rolled over my shoulder a while ago—
somehow in all my ‘thinking’ it passed…
Sometimes life has a way of taking
ME out of these prophetic moments
AND this is good…

I wouldn’t wish to think I’ve grasped
life because when I believe I have,
I’ll have to go and buy
a watch to start all over again.

Now, my body’s clock
No longer needs the seconds
or minutes or hours to say
GOODNIGHT.

So with that…
SWEET DREAMS.

March 25th (One day before I walk)

 

Across from me…

An empty chair—

I sat across from it
as breakfast was served.

A first meal—
bread broken.
An array of fine spreads—
steamed milk—
and, a pot of fresh coffee.

I bowed my head—
at first, in disbelief…
and then, in gratitude.

The table before me
NOW an altar—
A blessed
Communion.

And—the chair in
front of me
was no longer empty.

I was at
eucharist
and BECAME the
food I ate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In less than 24 hours I shall begin walking The Way…
Mindful of Holy Mother…in the unseeing mystery, I set out upon St Jean Pied de Port to explore.

The sun split the clouds, the rain stopped (for now).  My eyes could not stop scanning ALL the vistas before me.

The cobblestone street beneath my steps led me to The Church of Our Lady—
St James stood before me holding a staff.  The arch I would walk under/through tomorrow pulled me like a string.

I, a fine piece of thread, began rolling into a spool of fabric.  What will I LOOK like in the end? (NOT physically, but yes, physically).  Will my color change from day to day?  Will I become more resilient, strong, able to break by a simple pull only to graft myself back in?

No fears—only a certain sadness as the church doors were LOCKED.  I took a few steps and saw a woman drawing nearer.  She held what appeared an ancient key.  Something in me spoke before I thought, “Mam, is that the KEY to the church?”  She nodded, “Yes” and told me, invited me, “COME.”

I followed—she opened the door and welcomed me to enter.  She gave me permission to walk in first.  I almost declined, but some THING nudged me through.

Deep darkness…in the corner I saw candles burning.  The woman turned on the lights, AND there SHE was.

I wept like someone released the flood gates.  From where did all these tears come?  BEFORE me, the WOMAN holding the seed of Her womb.

I, too, a seed of CREATION’S MOTHER’S womb.  Each of us is born ‘into’ life…a maternal thrust inviting us to BE.  I tried to pray…all that kept coming was THANK YOU, THANK YOU, and THANK YOU!

I felt like the MOST beautiful dandelion.  Yes, a magnificent weed in the garden of life fully blossomed…my seeds already whipped by the winds into the Universe and all that is left…a heavenly stem.  This is not sad…its ending has prepared for this beginning.

 

In the words of Meister Eckhart, “I pray God to make me free of God…that we (I) may gain the truth & enjoy it eternally.”

I’m in the eternal BELIEVING and disbelieving.  I’ve left so much of me behind seeking the me in SILENT WONDERMENT…already I’m seeing so much I know NOT how to take it all in.

The ‘me’ back HOME a LIVING rescuer…No wonder my background…Chaplain (at the age of 25, and even before that during my early years growing up) and a Police Officer for a short time.

The wise words of a member of the Board of Chaplains haunts me—“Sandra, it will be a fine day when you choose a path where you’re NOT caring for the rest of the world!”

Caring for OTHERS has always come naturally to me.  While I am able to share my past with all the moments that brought me here—persons who stretched me to breaking points, this is not about these stories…it is about me and who I’ve become and continue becoming.  I would NOT change one thing…everything has been gift—yes, even the losses.  I know I’ve hurt some, disappointed others, but I can honestly say it WAS NOT deliberate.  I ask forgiveness and I give back forgiveness…trying, trying, trying to BREATHE in and out—LOVE.

It is here that I know God or by whatever name you wish to call the One dwelling inside YOU.  I am the fruit of the womb.  I ‘TASTE’ for this moment for I am ripe, bruised in certain places and still sweet…a few sour patches adding a new flavor to my lips licking just enough for today.

So many faces pass by me this day—The greeting, “Buen Camino” a sacramental blessing ALL can share.

The changing faces of the land, the sky, the sun, the clouds…it feels as if I’m playing
hide & seek—
“Come out, come out wherever You are…”
AND again the Source of life—right there.

I light a candle in the Church of Our Lady—the glow still in my eyes.  May I be a small flicker of its flame as I prepare to GO.

Solemnity (Feast) of the Annunciation

 

A book picked me from a shelf the eve before my walk (A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan)—Its beginning spoke these words to my soul…

“Poets claim that we capture for a moment the self that we were long ago when we enter some house or garden (or temple) in which we used to live in our youth.  But these are most hazardous pilgrimages, which end as often in disappointment as in success.  It is in ourselves that we should rather seek to find those fixed places, contemporaneous with different years.”

“The unknown element in the lives of other people is like that of nature, which each fresh scientific discovery merely reduces but does not abolish.”

                                                                                         Marcel Proust—In Search of Lost Time

The eve before the journey…I lay in my bed gazing out the window cut in the ceiling…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so many emotions.  I tried to close my eyes, BUT then a sudden LIGHT—then gone.  Was something playing tricks on me?  There it was again, AND this time She lingered
awhile…LUNA’S crescent face above my bed.  I whispered GOODNIGHT and She faded behind the clouds.