Pilgrimage: A journey into the unknown undertaken for the purpose of uncovering deeper meaning and connection*
*defintion by me but inspired by others more quote worthy : )
I am at a transition point in my life, a pilgrimage of sorts. Like all pilgrimage, it requires me to let go of the creature comforts to which I have become accustomed. This means releasing the security of operating my business as a “side endeavor” so that I can remain less attached from its success or failure. It also means leaving a community I love, once again, to take a step into a future that looks more solitary for awhile.
In plain terms, I have been running my business while also being a full-time student. I am leaving school in order to try this thing for real. Am I scared? Yes. Yes I am.
Thought I would share some of the Smoky Mountain sweetness from my vacation in North Carolina last week. Enjoy!
Catching the rolling clouds overhead,
powerful forces of beauty
reshaping the landscape’s light and shadow
Admiring the flowing elements softly changing the earth,
inhaling the sweetness of less inhabited air
Finding a kindred soul while searching a cabin bookshelf,
reliving my pilgrimage through the written word
“Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water’s warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin”
– “Summer Skin,” Death Cab for Cutie
There is something about the summer months that change the way it feels to be human. Maybe it is the thick, humid air. Maybe its some sort pheromones from the fecund earth (if the earth has pheremones). Who knows. It’s one of those great mysteries of existence.
I do know what it feels like though. Something like this:
The dirt on my hands connects me to the earth in a new way, the sweat on my brow reminds me I am part of everything else that came from that dirt. I feel lazy for everything but laying in the grass, staring up at trees and tracing clouds in the sky. Being human feels like enough.
It’s pretty beautiful.
A few weeks ago, we set up at a camping site at Mohican State Park with a clear, cold river running twenty feet behind our tent. We built fires every night and played in the running water every day, burning to ash then washing away all of the worries built up through the busier months, leaving something else behind. Not refreshment exactly, but more like reminder. It’s still all over my skin.
Appreciating the rain,
Stumbling through the sky-
inverted images underfoot
Imagining the opening of the bloom,
wondering about the feelings:
timidity, curiosity, wonder, fear, courage?