This trip is designed to be a cushy hop from one friend's apartment to the next, with journeys of reasonable lengths on public transit in between. For my next trip, I would like to go to Spain and walk the Northern route of the Santiago de Compostela along the sea, and now that I've been in California for a week I'm also starting to craft ideas about walking along the Catholic missions, starting on the Southern Coast. My friend Clara, who I've been staying with this first week in Chico, CA, suggested this to me almost as soon as I breathed my first sigh of wonder at this place.
She, in her very Clara way, looked quietly over at me.
I thought of a very Lucy-trip the other day, she said.
And of course, now that my Lucy-brain has had a few days to mull it over, I'm wild about the idea. The missions were built along the coast so that you could make it to the next one by nightfall and always be sure of a place to stay and find food and shelter. There are missions in all of the cool places I'd want to see anyway, like San Diego and somewhere in Big Sur, and Carmel.
I'm so in.
But to jump back, for a moment, to a few weeks ago, when I purchased my hiking backpack for this inaugural "pilgrimage" to the west. I christened the pack "Ariadne" for her grace and pale blue and gray colors. We walked home together, with beer and indian food (she'll forever after smell of saag paneer and garlic naan), to sit amongst the clutter of the final packing zone of my bedroom in Somerville. Within moments, I knew what would go in my two favorite small pockets on the bag. They are zippered pockets located on the belt buckle of the bag, the most important feature of a pack, as it determines the wearer's ability to hold the weight of the bag properly on the hips. These two small pockets are intended for easy access to something like money, chapstick, an ID. Mine contain these things, yes, but also the following items, which are dear to my heart, and which I will carry with me throughout this journey, and those to follow.
The left-most item was a Christmas present from my dear friend Maria. She made each of us an ornament, hand-sewn and stuffed. She told me that she wasn't sure at first what to put on mine, but then when the idea came to her to sew a candle, she knew it was exactly the thing for me. I love this, for my name means "light" and I carry it with me everywhere I go. This year, more than ever, I've learned how to take care in tending the small flame that I have a tendency to work to the bone.
Tied around the string to hang the ornament is a yellow ribbon. At the memorial service in March for my college friend from the Computing Helpdesk, we tied these ribbons around each other's wrists as a symbol for carrying on the light and laughter the Davina gave to us. We did this in remembrance and honor to her joyful nature and spirit. Her strength and focus is a daily inspiration to me as I seek after the fulfillment of a few of my dreams,
The handkerchief was a gift, hand-embroidered by my sister, for Wellesley Commencement day in May of 2012. I knew going into this trip that there would be moments I felt uncertain or lonely, and that a hanky from my big sister might be a good thing to keep on hand. The colors of the handkerchief are the colors of Wellesley, blue and white, and the red embroidery thread used for my initial was my class color.
Hanging on the handkerchief is an old earring of my mother's, which I hung on a candle that I was lighting while waiting for updates and praying for my friend's recovery from her accident. At the time, the small action didn't seem to mean anything; it was just a tiny comfort to hang something beautiful on the edge of a shining light that filled my kitchen with a comforting smell of ginger. I have brought his small dream catcher with me for continued moments of reflection and meditation, and of course, dreams.
The last item is a rosewood rosary, given to me by the wonderful people of a small Catholic community in Sorrento, Italy, my freshman year of college. The Wellesley choir sang in their chapel, and then we were feasted and sung to by a rowdy group of women (and one lone brave man) outside on the steps of the church. One of the goals of all of my wandering is to reckon with conflicting ideas of religious belief, doctrine, and the way it is reflected or not in my life. It is not exactly an easy process....but I tend to choose the longer way to do things. For some time now, I have struggled to reckon my actions and words with my beliefs, and one of my intentions for this time of exploration is give myself ample time for sorting through these things in my heart and mind.
Though I do not practice Catholicism, as a very Protestant person with generations of European Protestant ancestry before me, I value its history and the good that is possible for its people to do in the world through acts of generosity, service, and simplicity. I am honored to have been given a beautiful rosary to use for prayer and a symbol of faith. It transports to me feelings of vigor, joy, and community, as well as the scent of sea water and delicious Southern Italian home-cooking.
I carry these small tokens to remember to create moments of peace for myself as I wander far and wide.
-lab
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