While I so enjoyed sharing stories and lessons from the Evliya Çelebi Way with you, now I’d like to get a little more practical. What follows is a round up of information I hope you’ll find useful, should you be interested in walking the route yourself.
Posts tagged ‘pilgrimage’
And the final thing I realized, on a rainy Thursday afternoon in Turkey, is that the path knows exactly what we need and when. Warmth. Shelter. Direction. A guide. It’s up to us, then, to trust the path and its provision. The path, like life itself, is always right.
Every step of the way is the point – that much I hold onto, even as a perfectly round blister forms on the bottom of my right big toe. As for what will happen at the end? That, my friends, is still a mystery – and also part of the point, wouldn’t you say?
The shepherd walked with a grace I won’t soon forget, with a grace I hope to carry into all parts of my own path through life. The sight of him with his flock was worth walking three days to see, and will be worth walking another twenty for.
The passing group of monks never actually stop walking, but when they see what I’m up to, they crane their necks, ooh and aah over my sketch, and wish me ganbatte a hundred times as they pass.
Most of all, what I want to remember from Temple 58 is its classic tiered roof. While it means my first day on the circuit will be longer than it should, I can’t help but drop everything and sketch the temple.
Before arriving on Shodoshima, I’d been wondering if there would be any connections between this pilgrimage and the one I did last year. Here in a souvenir shop on the island, it seems I’ve found my answer.
Words and photos only tell so much – I love that this video captures sounds, too: the crunch of our boots on the path, the ever-present din of cowbells, and the cheers and claps that often erupt in front of the cathedral in Santiago.
It’s been a few months now since I hung up my hiking shoes for the last time, but I was reminded of my questions about what it means to be a pilgrim again this morning after reading a powerful commencement speech by Nipun Mehta.
I’ve been grateful to feel at home in Madrid, to not only have my own room again, but a desk to write at and an armchair to read in, all while sounds of the city and afternoon sunshine waft in through open windows.