Pilgrimages, why do them?

We get very used to our own way, and sometimes opportunities arise to see that.

Pilgrimage is one way, illness another, even our daily practice (if we care to relinquish) and of course, daily life.

I am travelling to Wales; it takes time. Plane rides start off as interesting and then after eight hours, and as long to go again, it becomes much less interesting, in fact a danger to sanity. There is no escape, no room, and no sleep. Utter unbearableness.  An inner voice says: ‘Start the pilgrimage now, stop moving, relinquish and begin again.’

Opportunity two arrived a few hours later. How beautiful Italy, how lovely the Pensione we are staying in. My body clock is set for Australian time and I am wide-awake and ready to go at three am. Maybe a cup of tea would ease this pain. We are locked in, there is a curfew, there is no going out to roam this lovely Italian village, and where is that kettle to make a hot drink? Nowhere, no internet, no tea, and hours until breakfast.

Wandering at six am, having escaped now, the breakfast is 8.30am, not 7am as I thought. They don’t speak English, and in fact seem to exhibit no shame about this. There was again confusion, a generous word for, ‘No, no, no how can that be?’

What Italian is getting up at these hours? Only wild Australians wander the pre-dawn hours going to yoga, this early rising is a vey unique idea of ours. It is certainly not for these Italians!

More railroading is to be had: There are no trains to Rome to see the event I came for, there is no access for me. How disappointing, more than disappointing, a big let down.

So here I am, no control, the only way open to me is to forget my pilgrimages of daily morning tea, my longing to go to Rome, yesterday’s connectedness and be here.

Funnily it is a relief, and the sun seems sweeter, and suddenly that cranky nun now seems quite obliging, as the doors of perception open.  In fact the Italians now play with me, show me friendship, and when I leave Orvieto my nun friend holds me to her bosom in farewell, we are both very moved by our meeting and now, parting ‘Returno!’ she cries into my ear. And yes I will.