A Little Piece of Heaven.

     Today I did the hikes I had wanted to do yesterday: in particular to St. Columba’s Bay, over towards the quarry and then back around and up to Port Ban.  Incredible, all of it!  I will try to upload a video from the Bay for you below… again, with the pictures issue that I’m having, I’m not positive I can make that work, but I will try. Today’s hike was a bit over eight miles.  Yesterday I walked ten miles, though the obvious difference was the terrain.  Yesterday was gentle hills on paved or gravel roads, today was hills, rocky terrain, on paths that were many times barely discernible. The other, more profound difference was how the hike to St. Columba’s Bay felt, and seeing/touching the water of the bay in particular.  Both days I walked alone. While David is here on Iona with me, he is not a hiker.  Additionally, his work has required that he has to still manage to get in 40 hours of work during the three weeks he will be with me in Europe, so he is taking the unscheduled, quiet days on Iona to try to get some of those hours in.  I was actually looking forward to having the quiet, meditative and reflective as well as prayerful time to walk by myself.  None the less, the solitary walk to the North of Iona yesterday was stressful for me: or it produced anxiety for me.  I didn’t see anyone, and I felt nervous about that.  While Iona is pretty safe, I carry with me the reality from home that 50% of women in the United States will be assaulted during their life times, many of those more than once. Walking by oneself as a female is generally not considered wise or safe. If someone had approached me, there would be no one else around to call to for help.  I couldn’t shake it.  I kept trying to just breathe and be in the present, but was unable to do so.

    On today’s hike I also saw no one until I was almost all the way back from St. Columba’s Bay.  But it felt different.  There was no anxiety.  There was instead a calm but strong sense of being where I needed to be in the moment.  I was searching for the trail much of the time, as well as trying to hold my phone with its trail app to make sure I was at least in the right vicinity while at the same time using my poles in the hope that the extra support would prevent my knee acting up. The wind today was still quite strong, and at one point the clouds let loose and I ended up quite soaked.  And yet, despite all this, I kept being astounded by the beauty at every turn, the wildlife and the joys of hearing the sheep and birds talk to one another and occasionally even to me.  It was incredible.  Not a “destination” but really the point of being here: the hard journey which was rewarded at every turn by something beautiful and unexpected. 

    As I stood on the beach I felt tears pouring down my face in awe and wonder at what was before me, and found myself repeating, almost unconsciously the mantra “Thank you, God” over and over and over. The video I attach will not do it justice, and yet, it’s all I can do to try to share with you this little piece of heaven that was the gift of the day for me.

And a few photos: 

Becoming

We’ve only been on this journey 3 and days.  But so far the number of interesting conversations I’ve had with strangers has been beyond my expectations. Below I name just a few of those interactions:

On the bus bridge between BART stations I had a conversation with a woman who had just come back from walking the Porto-Santiago part of the Camino: the same path Middle and I will be walking. We had a wonderful conversation about knee problems and how to make the walk pleasant and possible.  We talked about our sons (she walked with her adult son as I will be walking with mine).  It was truly a delightful and unexpected conversation.

While waiting for the ferry to Mull, I ended up in a conversation with a stranger who worked on Iona for 24 years.  She shared with me about her life, her time on Iona, her little house on Fionnphort, and then she also shared that her husband had died 9 months ago, what happened, what that has been like for her and how she is surviving it.  While that part of the conversation was not necessarily “fun,” it was valuable and deep.

In my blog post yesterday I shared about the conversation I had with the young man studying to become a Jesuit priest.  That conversation about our lives, faith, trust, spirituality, continues to cause reflection and learning for me.

This morning at breakfast I ended up in a conversation with a couple at the table next to us.  The man worked as a head librarian for the highlands while his wife owned a book store.  Now retired, they are active in the Church of Scotland as elders and we spent an hour discussing all of our connections and what Iona has meant to each of us.

At lunch today, I ended up talking with a large group of folk who are here on pilgrimage from the US.  Many are pastors, some Presbyterian, and some from the Bay Area! They encouraged me to join a group called “clergy with cats” on FaceBook so we can stay connected.

These are a few of the conversations I’ve had so far.  I’m sure there will be more conversations like this: we have only been on the road since late Saturday, and much of that time involved confined travel situations.

But what I have learned from reflecting on these is a couple things: First, almost always there are ways we can connect with those around us: there are things we share in common, and opportunities to learn from the differences.  Each of these connections with strangers included gifts.  Each conversation provided chances for me to learn more deeply about the world and about others, to restore some faith for me in humanity in general, in the kindness of the world, and in the deeper connections and similarities we all share. 

Secondly, with each conversation, as I looked over at David, he was laughing and shaking his head.  I asked him if it bothered him that I was having all these conversations with strangers, and his response was, “No, of course not!  This is just YOU!”  But what I realized is that I don’t, or at least I haven’t, seen myself this way.  What I mean is that I generally self define as shy, as introverted, as socially awkward and as withdrawn.  I see myself as a person on the outside of what is happening around me much of the time. But seeing myself through David’s eyes, I have come to realize that maybe the shy, withdrawn version of myself was more about my own sense of insecurity than anything real about who I truly am.  I’m growing past those insecurities, and as a result I feel more able to be who I really am.  I’m moving more into a place of not caring as much about other people’s judgements of me.  I am more willing to take the risk of being disliked and feel less intimidated into trying to be the person I believe other people want me to be.  I’ve seen this in other parts of my life as well. My eldest child has much of my social awkwardness, but they also are not afraid to be who they want to be.  They wear clothing that doesn’t necessarily fit into current styles, and they still (at the ripe old age of 24) are willing to grab my hand in public.  They burst into singing in places like grocery stores and while walking.  It’s not that they are unaware that others find these behaviors odd: they simply don’t care.  And I’m finding that I don’t either.  Eldest gets to be who Eldest chooses to be, and I feel nothing but pride at their decisions to live as they want, even when that means others around them don’t or won’t understand or appreciate their choices.  Being around Eldest has also given me some courage to choose for myself as well.  When they start to sing, sometimes I will join them, just because I want to, for example. 

Moving past other people’s judgments also encourages me to move beyond my own self-judgments.  Today, for example, we are on the incredible Island of Iona.  As I planned my time here, I saw it mostly involving walking, hiking, meditating, praying, and attending services.  I did walk this morning and it was wonderful and lovely.  But currently it is raining, it is extremely windy with a bitter gale that I simply don’t enjoy.  So, I am sitting in a beautiful conservatory in the inn and writing.  I am listening to the wind and the rain, but within the confines of a dry and comfortable space.  My inclination in making this choice was self-condemnation, “Barbara Ellen, you SHOULD be taking advantage of your time here to walk, to hike!  You will regret it if you don’t!”  Maybe… or maybe I will appreciate that this is my time, and I am doing what is making me happy in this moment, looking out at the ocean while sitting surrounded by geraniums and listening to the sounds of nature around me. Life doesn’t always happen in the ways we expect.  And that is more than okay. 

The conversations I’ve been having with strangers are just one part of moving into being who I want and choose to be.  Sitting and writing instead of walking in the rain and wind is another piece of that as well.  I am so grateful for today and for this time.