The Thrill of Beginnings
A few pilgrimage beginnings over the years, here in photographs...
I love the start. The start of a pilgrimage and all it holds that has yet to unfold. After walking quite a few, this is probably my favourite part!
We usually don't know all the people we will walk with yet and how deep those connections might surprisingly go. We don't know the beauty we will encounter. It awaits like a big shimmering, gift with colourful bows to untie...The sensory pull of where we will walk hangs in the air with promise. What gorgeous villages will I stop in for coffee? I wonder if there will be a fruit shop to admire? Or a villager with twinkling eyes to offer some path wisdom or just hold them in a hug?
Will there be a fragrant path? Windy hilltops where I will stop and ground my floating mood and dancing body with: I am here. I am here. Remember this. Remember this!
Not knowing is juicy anticipation. I could easily wait here and linger!
I don't know if I will get blisters on this long, beautiful dance, to reign me in to my physicality, or if my feet will pulse as they repair at night, or my old injuries will rebel.
Will I purchase little souvenirs to help me remember when I'm in the kitchen at home?
I anticipate the first dinner together, clinking glasses with my companions, new and old. We are here! We are ready to be with the earth, the sun, the stars and the moon, and everything inbetween. Ourselves. Our opening hearts.
I am here after months of planning and making sure home will survive my absence. I don't want to think of the end of the journey, steeped in misty emotion. It is then I am readying to say goodbye to the sweet souls that have walked me here, across a country. Their energy is mingled with mine now and is part of me. I must pull away from the invisible threads that bind us, yet that can stretch back home all the way to my kitchen bench. I know that this is what becomes of every beginning: the final last crunching steps. The last ones that break my dancing rhythm that has built over hundreds of kilometres.
Oh the thrill and butterflies of a beginning.
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