SPIRITUAL PLIGRIMAGE: GOING HOME

When you leave home (or home leaves you) to take a journey of self-discovery, you discover new strengths and dimensions of yourself among strangers and in threatening spaces. This journey can be exciting, scary, lonely and exhilarating. It is a gift of possible insight and new hope. It is a time of wandering, tasting, seeing, listening and feeling.

But, at some point, the pilgrimage comes to an end and you go home. You return to familiar door that has welcomed you time and time again after you have been away. There at home are the familiar people who said good-bye in the not too distant past, who adapted to life without you while you were gone, and who are here to greet you as you return.

But, odds are, they are  not the same as they were when you left. They have had experiences that you didn't share in. They learned that they could do some of the things they had always counted on you to do. They didn't see you every day, but created an image of you  in their thoughts as they imagined you on your pilgrimage. And they don't look the same to you because you see differently.  You have new eyes to see dimensions of them that you might know have seen before.

And when you get home, you realize that you have changed too. You have been influenced by the road. The sights and sounds have increased your awareness of new things. You see your home differently because you have seen other homes along the way.  Your home might seem more tired that you remembered.  Or it may seem warmer and safer than you thought. The treasures of your own home, once hidden under the covers of familiarity, become clearer.

So, when you have opportunity to leave home and discover new dimensions of yourself, return to your familiar spaces blessed with new sight and new life. 

SPIRITUAL PILGRIMAGE: LEAVING HOME

I put the trash out last night. Rather a ritual each Sunday evening. It seems like I just did it yesterday, but somewhere while I wasn't looking, the week passed by. There are moments like this when it dawns on me that life has been lived and I didn't even notice it. We journey through each day, each week, each month, living life as normal as we can make it.

But, sometimes something happens to cause us to wake up and notice our journey. It is often when we lose something or when we feel what is normal for us is threatened. Our senses stand on tip-toe and we are alert to the healing gifts of grace or the painful gifts of fear. We notice each moment. It becomes a vivid tattoo on our memories. This is when we know our daily journey has turned into a spiritual pilgrimages. 

Pilgrimages begin when our longings are intensified. We long for something that we don't have. We long for something more. And that longing gets formed into a decision.  We decide that we are going to act, to do something that leads to exploring our longing. Pilgrimages then become a reality when we leave home (or when home leaves us). Home is where the time slides by on the familiar patterns of familiarity. When we leave home, we are uncertain what is around the next corner, so our senses are heightened.  We notice. We pay attention to our life.

Some pilgrimages are chosen. They begin when we decide to make a change. Some are foisted upon us by circumstances in our life that we can't control. They begin beside a fresh grave.  Either way, they are spans of time in our journey of life when our eyes are opened to reality, when our heart feels more deeply, our souls expand in songs of lament or ecstasy, and our bodies are alive to the touch of earth. Don't let these moments go by without discovering greater insights into  yourself and your relationship to the mystery of life itself. Soon enough the familiar will seduce you back into familiar days that seem to go by way too fast.

CHAOS

What a mess!!  I sit here in the middle of chaos.  We are having new carpet installed in our house. Every room is filled with the stuff of our life--all in the wrong place.  Professional carpet layers are crawling around on the floor making sure that all is done right. An industrial sized radio is blaring country music.  What happened to my home?

So much of our feeling of well-being is related to the space we inhabit. Most of us work to create space where we feel safe and comfortable.  The stuff we have is there to help us be what we want to be or remind us of what we have been.  We arrange it and organize it so we can move with some comfort and ease. We organize our stuff in our house so it feels like home.

When that gets disrupted, we become anxious and sometimes hard to get along with.  We don't like feeling so unsettled. It is hard not knowing where our coffee pot is.

Fortunately, this will end.  The workers will leave this afternoon and we will begin to put our life back together. Some of the stuff will go back where it was.  Other stuff will find a new home. Some will leave via the church thrift shop.  In a few days, we will be back to some semblance of order.

Other disruptions and the ensuing chaos doesn't end as quickly.  When we lose people who help our life feel ordered and safe, we get angry and feel scared.  We are not just uncomfortable for a few days, but we may be disoriented for months or even years.  The empty chair at the holiday table is not just painful, but it is frightening.  We project that empty space into all the holidays in the future. It just doesn't feel good anymore.

Patience is an easy word to say and a terribly hard word to live. Yet, it takes a lot of it to endure the pain of the emptiness and find the energy to discover a new order in chaos we feel in the upheaval. It helps to find someone to share the space and the disorder with. Find someone to sit with and cry.  Find someone to listen to you as you talk your way forward. Speaking about your pain and fear helps you order your emotions so that you can imagine a new order in your life.