Pilgrimage making progress on a spiritual Path

Pilgrims travel for spiritual reasons in a search to find meaning and purpose in their lives and to return spiritually rejuvenated. There are special destinations that by their nature help trigger this transformation.

"Holy places are undoubtedly centres of the outpouring of Divine grace, because on entering … and by observing reverence, both physical and spiritual, one's heart is moved with great tenderness."

Bahá’u’lláh

In order to experience this tenderness, there are things to avoid such as hypocrisy, pride or self-preoccupation.  Using valuable energy hiding the very worst of oneself is a waste of time in these special places. Pretence, prevarication or performance have no place here. True pilgrimage is facing up to what you are, warts and all, and being honest as you walk this path through life. 

The other thing that can distract you from this spiritual journey is focussing on the faults of those around you.  C.S. Lewis in his Screwtape Letters (Letters from a senior devil to a junior devil) gave a wonderful description of how this works as he advises the junior devil to merely focus the attention of a new member of the church’s congregation on those around him and how effective this is at distancing him from his spiritual path.

“When he gets to his pew and looks round him he sees just that selection of his neighbours whom he has hitherto avoided … Provided that any of those neighbours sing out of tune, or have boots that squeak, or double chins, or odd clothes, the patient will quite easily believe that their religion must therefore be somehow ridiculous.”

 C.S. Lewis

Too often the focus strays onto ourselves or others instead of the inspiration we seek.  On this spiritual journey, clarity or insights can suddenly bubble up. During this pilgrimage, you sense that God knows you better than you know yourself. Gradually a new you is uncovered as veils are removed between you and your own heart. You lean into God’s mercy and compassion and solace can come more easily. 

You may cry, beg or bring your deepest wishes. It helps to listen in heart-stopping silences to leave space for the guidance that may come unexpectedly. Leave it safely in His hands. Trust that only He knows the best path for you.  However, be aware, that this spiritual path is often full of a heady mix of emotions and experiences.

"This is the pilgrimage of joy, ecstasies, sorrows, shames, repentances and reformations that storm through one's being."

William Sears 

If the answer to a desire you expressed turns out to be a resounding NO! accept that. Rest your head on this threshold, bring all of you and leave it here. Confident that perhaps not what you want but what you need will follow. You are refreshed by feelings of gratitude for all the bounties that you already have been given in abundance. Thankful for every precious soul you have ever encountered who shared your life and helped you become you. In fact, helping others, especially those suffering or in need is a special kind of pilgrimage of its own.

"Of all pilgrimages the greatest is to relieve the sorrow-laden heart."

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

The hope that faith engenders on pilgrimage springs from the water of life, that potent elixir of transformation. Where there seems only mud, soil and dirt a seed is hidden.  From deep within, a glorious flower springs up in this rejuvenating light, quivering into bloom. Weeping its dew in the early morning sun. Tears are common on this spiritual journey.

We must walk on this path towards the loved One, never despairing how far we have to go but steadfast in our desire to progress out of the darkness into the light. We, the generation of the half-light, need to make that choice and take that step. 

 “… step out of the darkness into the light and onto this far-extended Path of Truth.”

The Báb

PS I find it heartening that C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters were dedicated to his dear friend Tolkien (author of Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit etc).

plan B to lose weight, saw my leg off

I have longed to lose weight my entire life. In my earliest diaries, full of adolescent angst, my weight is recorded in red at the top of many pages. That tally seem to accumulate with the passage of time. Despite my best endeavours the weight just grew and grew. Relatives kindly referred to me as ‘big boned’. I told myself that this explained my higher than usual weight. Others had tiny bird like bones that weighed practically nothing whereas I had these dinosaur-like brutes inside. It all made sense. On good days I told myself that having big bones was a mighty protection. Citing the well-known incident at school when I was hit by a speeding car and thrown off the road to land quite a distance away on a pavement. The damage to the car, the speed and the distress of the driver and spectators was entirely balanced by my extreme embarrassment over the whole affair. Everyone else appeared in a state of shock when I just turned purple in agonising embarrassment. Obviously, those big bones are a source of protection, I thought, as I limped on to the school bus uninjured. I overheard Colin Atcheson, my nemesis, two seats ahead tell his friend,

“Did you see that! Bloody big heifer ruined the poor guys car.”

 I sank lower in my seat by shifting my heifer-like haunches and wondered anew if everything in the entire universe was designed to humiliate me.

In later years I grew more philosophical. There were tiny fine girls who people looked after and cosseted. Then there were the big cart horses like me that were designed to carry suitcases and gas cylinders. I accepted that people came in different breeds like greyhounds and Saint Bernard's. We all come with our own attributes.

Approaching middle age I ballooned even more than usual. Strange how suddenly size 16 just seems smaller. Much better to embrace size 18 and have that loose freedom rather than constriction. Elastic tops to trousers were a great discovery. Huge billowing tops hide a multitude of sins. My attempts to lose weight continued and now turned more Machiavellian. I instructed my dear cousin (Del -you know your duty!) to saw my leg off if I died. Given the considerable thickness of my thighs (big boned all over), I reckoned this would reduce my weight to 10 stone. She was then instructed to make sure my reduced weight was mentioned in the funeral address. By hook or by crook I was determined to get to 10 stone. Such is the desperation of the perennial overweight woman!

There are advantages. In storms I am manage remarkably well. Others may cling to fences for support but my big bones anchor me quite sufficiently. When normal people walk into me on the pavement they invariably bounce back with a great velocity. The conservation of momentum is in my favour. I don't regard huge loads, shopping bags, suitcases or furniture as immovable. I have become accustomed to such obstacles giving way to my will. It is not all positive. I have an unfortunate tendency to pull handles off things. Tug doors of microwaves, break windows and other stuff. It seems most inanimate objects are not big boned like me! They are surprisingly vulnerable. Family members are accustomed to my ability to break things. They are also rarely worried about my safety. When I visit strange cities they worry more about my carelessness than my safety. Who knows what I might break while there? I do not expect to be attacked any more. Instead I am on guard in case I nudge someone onto the road or rail. Goodness knows what/who I could reverse into in shops and damage with my flanks.  These big bones carry a heavy responsibility.

Then suddenly a month ago my weight started to plummet it for no apparent reason. Do I have some strange wasting disease? Out of the blue I have become a size 14 and all of my wardrobe hangs like joke tents around my frame. I am shocked!  After over five decades of weight gain this has come left-of field. My latest theory is that those big bones been hollowed out by some calcium deficiency. They are large but now are hollow and don't weigh as much as they did. Don't worry I am no Greyhound, more of a cuddly Labrador. Just when you think you know yourself, something odd happens. Life is increasingly full of jokes that sneak up on you. It's sometimes hard to catch the punchline. I have not worked out this one yet.

PS I'd like to point out that when Clark Kent, or that thin vampire guy, stopped speeding cars, then both of them were admired as having superpowers. Note that when women such as I, demonstrate such abilities they are merely seen as excessively bulky!  That has got to be unfair!  

* Heifer is a young cow