Everybody has their own way of looking at their lives
as some kind of pilgrimage ... Mine, I suppose, is to know myself.
~Eric Clapton
Is my life a pilgrimage? Certainly, I feel that I am coming to know myself. At least I have begun the journey, I think. And I am finding that is not necessarily comfortable. As I come closer to my-self, I find things that I like and things that I don't. I am finding a desire to change some of those things that are keeping me from being who I truly am. And ... I am finding that is not necessarily comfortable!
For me, silence is the most important aspect of my spiritual life. I need time to hear the whispers of my soul ... to hear the whispers of God within my soul. I need the silence to wake up, to become aware. Silence increases my awareness, not just of God's presence, but of all of creation and my space in the web of nature.
Wanderer, your footsteps are
the road, and nothing more;
wanderer, there is no road,
the way is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and upon glancing behind
one sees the path
that never will be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no road–
Only wakes upon the sea.
~Antonio Machado
Since I've returned home from the Monastery and a couple of working retreats, I am spending more time in meditation and reflection, wondering how my experience changed me, transforming me from the inside out into the world. I'm taking long walks on trails close to my home and I'm breathing in God's presence through the nature that I find in my world. I even signed up for Yoga just for ME.
And I continue to develop my personal rhythm in the silence:
walking ... praying ... returning ... resting
At the monastery, it was the resting into which my soul came home to herself. Laying down on my bed, my head resting upon the green prayer shawl in the the window of the monastery, gazing out upon the trees, I felt twinges of the familiar deep in my little girl soul. And yet I am filled with wonder because I was such a fearful child ... driving with my parents down those dark gravel roads in Arkansas, visions of monsters lurking along the edge of the roads, filling my dreams, and making me tremble. Looking up into the trees, dark leafy silhouettes against the night sky, reflecting a quality of light born only of moonlight and stars. Suddenly, I remember the soft voices of my parents and the warmth of my mother's welcoming lap as I laid my head down and fell asleep to the subtle roar of the truck engine. I am safe. I am loved. I am only, ever ... me.
Listen ... this year
I have planted my feet
on this ground
and am practicing
growing up
out of my legs
like a tree.
~ Linda Lancione Moyer, Women Prayers
