Day 19: Glendalough to Austin

Day 19: Glendalough to Austin

It started several days prior to the morning of our departure; the sadness crept into my stomach and moved up to clinch my throat until finally my body needed to release the knots through quivering lips and streams of tears. My heaving sadness had been presenting itself here and there but the night before we left it was on full display. After toasting our vow renewal and sharing stories of how Rob and I met, I looked around the table and was struck with grief that this leg of my pilgrimage would be closing. I was advised to feel as sad as I possibly could. So, I did.

The morning we left, I was still sad but the grief was mixed with a feeling of fullness; fullness from the love of our group, fullness of gratitude for having the time and resources to have had this experience and anticipatory fullness of being able to see our children. It’s funny how sadness can be mixed with hope and excitement.

By the time we saw our kids we had been awake close to 24 hours. I was exhausted and happy. They had so many stories to tell us and we had so much to share with them. I felt whole and wonderful with them snuggled around me.  What a great way to end my very long day.

Something changes internally while on pilgrimage. I have a sense that life will not be the same and the apprehension this causes is outweighed by the potential of newness. I am left wondering how to renegotiate this new, “normal.” I noticed when I saw our children that they too had been changed through their own pilgrimages. They interacted slightly differently with each other. They seemed more cohesive and separate from Rob and me. I think this is the best gift I could be given as a mother because they will need the support of each other as Rob and I age and die. I am sure they will also need time to renegotiate their new, “normal” as well. I can’t wait to see how they do it.

Day 18: St. Brigid

Day 18: St. Brigid

When we completed our walk of the Wicklow Way, two of our fellow travelers departed and three others joined us to begin a different sort of pilgrimage. Our days in Glendalough were spent participating in a spiritual retreat called Sacred Cauldron. I knew several of the participants very well but some were new friends. There is something seemingly magical when a group of people come together and thoughtfully engage with one another at a deeper level. This group in particular was quickly able to be vulnerable, tell stories, laugh and cry with each other. The group facilitators made us feel safe and it was apparent that we all felt held in a sacred space.

Our group went a field trip of sorts and visited the city of Kildare. This is where St. Brigid, one of Ireland’s patron saints, began her monastic community.  We were able to enjoy the first part of the day exploring the St. Brigid’s church, tower and fire pit. After lunch, we went to Solas Bhride Centre, an amazing new building with programs focused on linking the legacy of St. Brigid to our modern culture. The building itself was incredible with open, clean spaces for education, talks, meditation and prayer. It was awarded for its ecologically friendly design and construction. The space reminded me of what I might think of heaven being, if heaven had buildings. It even had a cafe!

Our final stop was St. Brigid’s well. Our group milled around the grounds quietly offering prayers, blessing spiritual tokens and soaking up the holy space. I knelt at the well and immersed four items: a rosary from Jerusalem recently given to me by a dear friend, a brass Ganesh from one of my soul friends, a sheep’s tooth I found on my last pilgrimage and a string of wooden prayer beads from a Goddess church that used to belong to one of my mentors. As I blessed them in the small pool of water I realized they perfectly represent my spirituality at this point in my life. My Christian roots anchor me, I am enriched by engaging in interfaith practices, I am inextricably linked to the earth and all creation, and finally as a woman I appreciate my own feminine gifts and power as I try my best to be a meaningful mentor to other women.  I hope St. Brigid would approve.

Days 16 & 17: Glendalough

Days 16 & 17: Glendalough

Glendalough is an ancient medieval monastic city situated in a gorgeous glacial valley. The ruins of the city are well preserved, as is much of the cemetery that surrounds and intermingles with the stone structures. St. Kevin founded this monastery at some point in the 6^th century.

St. Kevin had given his life to God. He lived bouncing between a stone beehive structure on a ledge overlooking the Upper Lake of Glendalough and in a cave also over looking this body of water. St. Kevin, as most saints, was kind of a strange dude. There are stories of him standing in the icy cold lake up to his neck and praying for hours. And as legend has it, a woman who was in love with him (supposedly he loved her too, but wait for the end of the story and you be the judge) made romantic advances toward him and his response was to throw himself into a bed of nettles and then beat his would be lover back with nettle branches. Like I said, a weird dude.

It is also said that St. Kevin befriended a monster from one of the two lakes in the city. Some have wondered if this befriending of a monster was metaphorical to embracing or accepting his dark side. So, ultimately accepting his strangeness or perhaps his humanness. This is why I love stories about saints because they are hardly ever what we commonly think of as saintly. I love that the stories of saints challenge the concept that a holy person must be pious, as it is my experience that piety is the enemy of holiness.  

Day 15 Roundwood to Glendalough

Day 15: Roundwood to Glendalough

While walking in a group, as in life, there can be irritations. Conversations can be become dull, others might not keep your same pace, and fellow walkers might not be in the same space psychically that you are.  After a few days of walking, personalities can become stale and peoples' elevator speeches can become annoyingly redundant. In fact it is even possible to become sick of your own thoughts and the endless loop that our minds create. As frustrating as it might be at the time, it is all part of the pilgrimage experience. 

I didn't want the walk to end. My intention was to slow my pace, look around, take pictures and soak up the final day of the journey. I had walked this trail before and I knew it was relatively short. I knew we had plenty of time and that if I didn't slow down, I would regret it. Perhaps it was my own perception that the walk seemed hurried. Maybe in relation to the long previous day there was no way around feeling the quick pace of this leg of the trip. 

I made a point to create space from others knowing that I need time alone so that I may function slightly more optimally. I found myself needing time with my own thoughts and to be able to hear my owns ideas instead of those of the other pilgrims. Again, I did my best to create the space I felt I needed. 

No matter how much I slowed down or wished for the journey to continue, inevitably it had to come to a close. All things must eventually end. 

Day 14: Knockree to Roundwood

Day 14: Knockree to Roundwood

Today was the longest day of the walk. We ticked off just over 16 miles through mountains, forests and open plains. Three years ago I approached this leg of the journey with fear and uncertainty, this time I had some trepidation but was feeling relaxed and confident as we started out. I knew it would be a long day, I knew it would be difficult and I knew there was no way around it if I wanted to get to a meal and a bed waiting for us in Roundwood. 

I had promised myself that I would not rush this time, I made an intention to enjoy the day and not wish for it to be over and to be present to the experience moment by moment. I am happy to say I was for the most part able to follow through on this plan. However, I found myself at times estimating the hours or miles left to go. Then my thoughts would turn impatient and wanting the walk to end so I could shower and drink a Guinness. I realized when I started wishing the time away I might not ever be back in those mountains again and that this experience, even if repeated, would never look or feel the same. 

Looking back at my life to this point, I can think of so many times I wished the moments would just be over or that time would fast forward. I wonder if this is why most parents of older children talk about how raising kids, "just goes so fast" or why 25th high school reunions seem to be here before we know it. I look back and wonder how I could possibly have been married for 20 years. How much of life have I not paid attention to? What have I missed, if anything? Is this just the nature of life, over before we know it? What do I need to work on to be able to look back in 20, 30, 40 years and feel as though I was aware of my life and not wishing it away? 

Maybe I should remind myself there is no Guinness at the end of this life, or maybe there is.

Day 13: Dublin to Knockree

Day 13: Dublin to Knockree

The walk began as it did three years ago. We assembled in Marley Park on the south side of Dublin. Seven of us walking this time; three of us the same as last. Pictures were taken and blessings made: The same as last time. But this was nothing like the first time for me, not internally anyway. 

Over the last three years, my experience of my initial pilgrimage has worked to shape me in ways I couldn't have expected and I continue to have a difficult time describing. The 2014 walk came at a time in my life when I was just starting to taste the results of my spiritual, emotional and mental work. I could feel that my efforts were starting to net transformation but I was still in the throws of what some call the, "alchemist's fire." Waiting to feel golden while hoping to not be consumed by the flames. 

On the first walk I was irritated the morning we started and wondered why I had agreed to go along. I really thought I'd made a mistake. I wanted to be home with Rob and the kids and not off on a 100 mile walk through the hills of Ireland with the potential of getting wet, cold and possibly more irritated. I was determined to live through my mistake and do what I could with my decision. 

When the last hike was over, I truly didn't know what hit me. I felt the bottom had been pulled out from under me but wasn't sure what the bottom was. In those months after our return from pilgrimage I struggled to make sense of the mix of pride at finishing such a long walk, anger at what I still thought might have been a mistake and sense of emptiness and disappointment. Yet amongst these feelings I sensed that something was coming together within my soul. A feeling of okay-ness, of potential for a richer life and glimpses of what being more integrated might look like started taking hold. 

The work continued and for the past two years during my spiritual direction training program I felt that this glimpse of transformation was coming into full view. Today, I could see, feel and sense the effects of the pilgrimage process. I was happy to start the walk this time and I don't think I have made a mistake, well not yet anyway. The 12 miles today went quickly and I'm interested to see what tomorrow brings.

Day 12: Belfast to Dublin

Day 12: Belfast to Dublin

Three years ago Rob, the kids and I traveled to Guanajuato, Mexico on a family pilgrimage of sorts. We were captivated by the city and knew we wanted to learn as much as we could about it. We thought the best way to do this was to hire a tour guide who could get us informed and acclimated to the town. We found Augustine. He was an older gentleman who walked with a limp and had a little difficulty touring us around by foot. So, on the second a day of the tour he picked us up in a Volkswagon minivan. This was much easier. He drove us all around town until we entered a roundabout and I started smelling burnt plastic. Alas, the van was on fire and we had to exit onto the median until we could make our way across the street for some cokes and chips. Our tour continued on the city bus.

Yesterday after we arrived at our train station we made our way to the pick up area and were met shortly by Martin our tour guide. He pulled up in a Volkswagon minivan. Rob remarked, "I hope this one doesn't catch on fire." We headed out to begin exploring County Meath and the sights were really incredible. After having visited Newgrange, Monasterboice, and Slane Castle we made our way to the Hill of Tara. The views were breathtaking on this beautiful day and Rob and I got to touch the stone of destiny and have our picture taken with St. Patrick. On our way to Trim Castle (also know as the castle in the movie Braveheart) as we headed down a narrow road, another car heading in the opposite direction came toward us. Our driver moved as far to the left as he could and then a, "pop!" "Uh, I think you have flat tire" Rob, half chuckling from the backseat, said. A few yards later we were in a median and broken down. 

I try to attribute some meaning to these kinds of parallel stories but honestly I just think they are funny stories that are enjoyable to tell and at times enjoyable to listen to. Stories for stories sake. And perhaps that is the meaning. 

Day 11: Inverness to Belfast

Day 11: Inverness to Belfast

It's truly wonderful how seamless our travels have been thus far. We have been blessed with good weather and our bookings for lodging, car and plane have gone off without a hitch. We got to Belfast early and after getting our rental car, headed directly to Bushmills (it's a town not just a distillery) where we would meet our bus to the Giant's Causeway.

The Giant's Causeway is a natural formation of hexagonal stones formed by an ancient volcanic eruption. These stones form a walkway that jet into the sea on the coast of Northern Ireland. The day was gorgeous and the weather was perfect. Rob and I walked past the walkway until the path ended due to erosion. We climbed up on a grassy slope and while sharing a beer enjoyed the tall stone pillars of rock that formed the surrounding canyon walls. We wondered about he birds as they soared toward the top of the canyon and then just before they appeared to be landing would freeze in mid air and turn back into what looked like a free fall and then repeat this maneuver. It was amazing.

We got back to Belfast and checked into our room. Our hosts warned us that it was the eve of the 12th of July and that bonfires would be lit across Belfast to commemorate the Protestant's victory over the Catholic's at the Battle of the Boyne over 300 years ago. Earlier in the day when we were getting our car, the rental agent mentioned the holiday and the fires in passing. When I had asked him the reason for the party he just said, "Well, it's a long story." You said it Mr. Budget rental car guy.

When we found out that Belfast is home to the most bombed hotel in Europe, we knew we had to go there to have dinner in their restaurant. Downtown Belfast felt strange but not in a good way. Rob thought it wasn't a good sign when every guy, "looks like he could kick my ass." Our meal was good but the maitre d' said it would be best to be home or at least off the streets before 11 because things could get troublesome. Rob and I headed out of the hotel after having read the history of the many times it had gotten blown up, which was highlighted on the spiral staircase leading to the piano bar. Outside, Rob was taking my picture and I sensed something approaching me. It was a car driving very fast into the hotel driveway. In that instant all I could think was, "So, this is how it ends. All of those stories I heard of the IRA when I was a child and how I should never, ever, ever go to Belfast; was going to end in some pissed off, partying Protestant running me down in front of a hotel infamous for death and dismemberment. Great." The car stopped short of me and both the driver and his passengers erupted into laughter. Rob thought it was funny too. I guess my Catholic roots are not accustomed to Protestant humor.

Rob and I walked down to the five story stack of wooden pallets that would be the fuel for the bonfire that would start later on around midnight. We took some pictures of it and and some pretty cool graffiti and decided it was time to make our exit. By the time we were back in the neighborhood we were staying in there was a large fire already burning on the street adjacent to us. Of course we had to investigate. We walked past a a bar called, "The Raven Social Club" and outside were several men, two in bright orange shirts. They were having a smoke and spoke in a loud, almost unintelligible brogue and yes they looked like they could kick Rob's ass. 

Across the street near a metal fence used to separate the neighborhood (you know in case of disruptions like throwing bottles and rocks at your neighbor) the fire was about three stories tall and the fire department was working to extinguish it. There was a creepy sense of festivity as families gathered in the street to watch as the fire almost engulfed what appeared to be a Catholic charity thrift shop. It was time to go home. 

The next morning Rob and I were both glad to be leaving Belfast and as always, our exit was seamless. 

Day 10: Glenlivet to Inverness

Day 10 : Glenlivet to Inverness

Unfortunately we had to leave our little country cottage early to get to Inverness for our Loch Ness cruise. Inverness was a nice city, clean and reportedly safe. Our tour of Loch Ness happened to fall on a beautiful day and the views were amazing. We did not however catch a glimpse of Nessie. Although, Rob thinks he got an unintentional picture of her.

We stopped in a pub after we disembarked and met up with some Canadians. They were from Edmonton and were spending about four weeks in Scotland. I don't remember a whole lot of what they said. I guess that's the nature of small talk.

When we checked into our Airbnb the hostess had an apparent interest in witches. She had copies of a magazine called, "Pagen," many figurines and dolls of witches and she wore dangly pentacle earrings. She was an odd little lady and as Rob described her, "a dingbat" because she struggled to make change. Our room had a disturbing Alice in Wonderland motif and low vaulted ceilings I would bump my head on. Our witchy hostess also apparently had a penchant for automatic AirWick air fresheners placed in areas around the house. They would intermittently let off their plastic musty odor and the sound would make me jump. 

I was glad to check out.

Day 9: Aberdeen to Glenlivet

Day 9: Aberdeen to Glenlivet

Rob had gotten the rhythm of driving down and we enjoyed our day touring Scotch Whiskey country. After having built up an appetite at a local distillery, we headed to the nearest village called Dufftown to find a restaurant. We weren't sure where to go, so we popped into a visitor information center to ask. 

An elderly lady staffed the table at the visitor center and she was eager to engage in conversation. We told her we were from Arizona. "Ah, yes! Americans. I thought so. I picked something up with how you talk." We smiled, "Yes. We are from the states." She started talking about a Trump International  golf course not too far away. Rob and I smiled sheepishly and then  trailing off, "Yes, well..." "No bother" she continued, "Ours are the same. Our politicians are the same. I suppose they are all the same. Oh well. I do believe you will enjoy the pub down the way, I can't think of anything else that's open." 

They're all the same? I wonder. Maybe they are and most are better at keeping their internal thoughts, well, internal. Just something to think about. We did enjoy the pub. 

Later on we checked into our adorable country cottage and the hostess told us about a scenic hike not too far away. We laced up our boots and headed to the mountain she described. It was a rapid ascent through sheep gates to the circular path at the summit. The trek treated us with dense forest on our right and views of the surrounding countryside on our left. I noticed the space under the think forest wall. The dropped pine needles formed a bed beneath the pine trees that could be seen several feet back until the darkness took over. I told Rob that I wanted to take a picture so I could remember the fairytale-like setting and to have a visual to use for when I dream of running away and escaping my daily life. The quiet, dark softness of Mother Earth herself. 

Day 8: Edinburgh to Aberdeen

                                            Day 8: Edinburgh to Aberdeen

It only took us half an hour to get on the correct route out of Edinburgh. It was Rob's first time driving on the, "wrong" side of the road and the helpful rental car agent apparently presumed we'd be smart enough to use the navigation system. As I struggled with a war room sized Scottish touring map, I'd occasionally glance up to see parked cars or curbs coming right toward me. All of my dreams of driving through the bucolic Scottish countryside were fading rapidly as I grabbed onto the seat and tensed my body with each passing mile and roundabout. After about an hour we decided to see if, "maybe" the navigation system worked. What a wonderful thing technology is and in about 30 minutes we arrived in St. Andrews.

St. Andrews was a surprise highlight. I had not researched this town except to look into a round of golf for Rob. So, we could not have been more pleased then when we pulled in and were met with a gorgeous beach and amazing views of historic church and castle relics. We spent the day exploring and even found a small, artisan jewelry store to buy our rings for our vow renewal.

Our day ended in Aberdeen in a wonderful Italian restaurant. I was so happy to be out of the big city and thanks to our navigation system genuinely looking forward to another couple of days driving in the countryside of my dreams.

Day 7: Edinburgh

Day 7: Edinburgh

We got to Edinburgh castle early, just like the Pinterest article recommended. A quick spin through the Royal Jewels and we were in the Royal apartment. It was in this apartment that Mary Queen of Scots lived after she had returned from her French exile. This is also where she birthed her only child, James. Thou knowest  this King James, thy one who had the Bible translated into thy most difficult to read version. Anyway, Mary never got to see her son grow up as she was imprisoned for 19 years and then executed. Apparently her cousin Elizabeth I was a wee bit threatened and couldn't bear to see what was to eventually become the UK be ruled by a Catholic. God forbid!

 I am aware of at least several things happening in our current religious/political climate that I am sure people will look back on and shake their heads about. Wait, I'm already shaking my head.

Days 5 & 6: Austin to Edinburgh

Days 5 & 6: Austin to Edinburgh



I often talk myself through worst case scenarios. And my thinking usually defaults to what terrible things could possibly happen and what my options might be if those things might actually occur. I have found that there is no better way to send me into this line of disastrous  thinking than to travel internationally, with multiple transfers while not having our children with us.
I managed to imagine all the ways our flight might be late causing us to miss our connector and if that didn't happen how we might manage, not if, but surely when, our luggage got lost. Upon arriving to Edinburgh none of these things had happened and in fact the trip was seamless. My jet lagged brain decided it was best to put aside this catastrophic thinking and to enjoy our walking tour of the city.
Once we sat down at a pub and I realized I had wifi, my anxiety sprang into action again. I checked on our younger kids. Their rapid responses along with their aunt assuring me they were having fun and behaving allowed me to assuage at least three quarters of my worry. Then I started to count the minutes since I texted Allison, our oldest. She wasn't responding. Surely she'd been in a terrible car accident or a victim of human trafficking! My children know I tend to worry excessively and are knowledgeable in the ways to calm their, "chicken mommy" a term used more for my ability to brood over my flock than any reference to my underlying fear about our children's well being. Nevertheless they know when a phone call will help to relieve all my concerns and that it did when I heard Allison's sleepy voice from half the world away. "Hey mom, what's up? I was sleeping." Of course she was sleeping, she's a teenager and it was early morning in Phoenix,
There was a traffic sign I saw yesterday that was the equivalent of our American, "yield" signs. It read, "Give Way." Perhaps the universe reminding me to let go, possibly relax more and not overthink things to death? Yes, perhaps yet I wonder what new tragedy is around the corner today.

Days 3 & 4: Austin

Days 3 & 4: Austin

It is my intention to keep a blog of our 2017 summer journey highlighting our days of pilgrimage. I hope our children find it interesting.   

There is an extensive network of trails that wind in and out of my brother in-law and sister in-law’s house. I have taken advantage of the length of these trails as well as the cooler albeit more humid weather to get in some hiking miles. Yesterday as I walked along a deer appeared in front of me. I slowly moved closer to her and snapped a picture before she leapt off.  My heart swelled with happiness as I remembered that deer are a spiritual harbinger of gentleness and love.  I felt pretty lucky and continued on my way.

A few miles later I came upon a women walking ahead of me. She slowed down and started explaining that she often gets confused whether it’s cicadas or katydids that sing in the daytime. We chatted and she told me a lot about her life, and how she loves living in this area because of the trails. I mentioned I had come upon a deer earlier in the day. To this she said, “Oh, of course there are hundreds of them around here.” All of the sudden the encounter my doe friend didn’t seem so magical.

Tomorrow we will head to Scotland and in about a week Rob and I will begin our walking pilgrimage in Ireland. We will hike a portion of the Wicklow Way, the same trail I walked 3 years ago. It will be the second time on the walk and my 3^rd time in Ireland. At what point does something change from rare and magical to mundane and commonplace? My new friend on my Austin walk certainly thought nothing of my mystical deer and I wonder how much of my life I take for granted rather then to take notice and look more deeply into the meaning of each moment or circumstance.