twenty years ago, when i finally figured out what i wanted to do when i grew up, namely semi-retire as a writer, i began to experience my days and nights more as a journey, rather than a place to arrive and stay put.
In latin, the word pilgrimage means “far afield.” now i would love to visit Rome, Jerusalem or mecca, but my pilgrimage has been in the sanctum of my own soul. sanctum sounds so….uppity….lofty…an attempt to impress. that’s not how i mean it.
if you had been given a very rare and valuable gift, but never opened it, you would only be able to appreciate the packaging. once you rip the paper off, you are making a statement that you own this gift and intend to use it for what it was intended to be used for.
this place within, call it a soul, a sanctum, a feeling or emotion, is the gift. what if from the day you opened the gift you would begin discovering who you were meant to be, in the truest and purest sense. what about art? joy? health? creativity? things that you never thought you were capable of?
that’s what i’m talking about. believing the gift…taking chances on what the gift promised…
so, i am a pilgrim and i have discovered more about what i can do then what i cannot do. sometimes i am fearful and tired after a night of struggling. st. john of the cross called it, “the dark night of the soul.” the next morning, as the psalmist said, “weeping lasts for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”
and it does.
so each part of the journey gives me confidence to go on to the next step, and each portion of this pilgrimage bequeaths me with greater value and rarity within.