It was a hot, sweltering afternoon today. I got drenched in sweat by the time I reached home, hurriedly coming in to take off my jacket and jeans, into a maroon sundress to take that call from him. I sat in the coolest part of the house during our call, the inner veranda. Mr. Penguin once had asked where I lived, and I described to him my humble abode; how it is increasingly getting exhausted of space from books laying every where.
I meditated for a brief while, and got up and danced to the Poem of the Atoms by Salar Aghili. Then back to reading excerpts of the Gita. I was realizing, I am surrounded by all the things I dearly love. The row of books, four stacks of tea (some have the pleasure of calling themselves cat-people, I myself am a tea hoarder), my yellow chrysanthemums on a glass jar, my space to write, my sketchbook, and the music to move my body.
If I didn't have to go meet someone, or go to work, I might be able to stay inside for a long time. Which reminds me, he once called me that, "You're a home girl!" he said. I'd like to think that is not absolutely true, in the sense that I don't like to go out and explore. I do, and even when my physical body can not take me to places, my mind is in constant wander. But I'll admit, I do fear that the comfort of staying home will cover me with rusty dust.
The whole conversation brought back the idea of pilgrimage to me. It's not a new thing, people have become pilgrims from eons ago. Maybe it is this idea of cleansing, that somehow by distancing themselves from things or places or people that have made them become the persona they dislike, they hope to change that by going to faraway destinations. Or also the idea of discovery, to bring newness to your life. Something more passionate, exotic, something strange and complex to learn and experience, perhaps even a redemption. Usually with a hope in the back of our minds that they will make us be better.
Taking the meaning of pilgrimage loosely as a journey in search of a significant something, my experience with past great journeys in life has always that they gift you things you did not quite expect before. I lived in America and found Rumi (not the Statue of Liberty!), I went to Flores and met a Viking (we both tried to be Americans); I stayed in Norway and found Buddha (or rather Buddha found me?). I frequented India and saw a chameleon (instead of the ubiquitous enlightenment). Last one I went to Bali and rediscovered Tuscany (this was gladly welcomed and thoroughly enjoyed).
I do not know yet where I want to have my next pilgrimage. Perhaps I should go to places that bring out the worldly part of me. I have been too wired in spiritual quests and philosophical filtering. But I am that girl that can make Ibiza feel like a Jain shrine, and make a Kerala out of Kuta. So we'll see. Else, the true pilgrimage is always the journey to within. (<--- See what I mean with making Ibiza be a shrine?! Bleahh)
I meditated for a brief while, and got up and danced to the Poem of the Atoms by Salar Aghili. Then back to reading excerpts of the Gita. I was realizing, I am surrounded by all the things I dearly love. The row of books, four stacks of tea (some have the pleasure of calling themselves cat-people, I myself am a tea hoarder), my yellow chrysanthemums on a glass jar, my space to write, my sketchbook, and the music to move my body.
If I didn't have to go meet someone, or go to work, I might be able to stay inside for a long time. Which reminds me, he once called me that, "You're a home girl!" he said. I'd like to think that is not absolutely true, in the sense that I don't like to go out and explore. I do, and even when my physical body can not take me to places, my mind is in constant wander. But I'll admit, I do fear that the comfort of staying home will cover me with rusty dust.
The whole conversation brought back the idea of pilgrimage to me. It's not a new thing, people have become pilgrims from eons ago. Maybe it is this idea of cleansing, that somehow by distancing themselves from things or places or people that have made them become the persona they dislike, they hope to change that by going to faraway destinations. Or also the idea of discovery, to bring newness to your life. Something more passionate, exotic, something strange and complex to learn and experience, perhaps even a redemption. Usually with a hope in the back of our minds that they will make us be better.
Taking the meaning of pilgrimage loosely as a journey in search of a significant something, my experience with past great journeys in life has always that they gift you things you did not quite expect before. I lived in America and found Rumi (not the Statue of Liberty!), I went to Flores and met a Viking (we both tried to be Americans); I stayed in Norway and found Buddha (or rather Buddha found me?). I frequented India and saw a chameleon (instead of the ubiquitous enlightenment). Last one I went to Bali and rediscovered Tuscany (this was gladly welcomed and thoroughly enjoyed).
I do not know yet where I want to have my next pilgrimage. Perhaps I should go to places that bring out the worldly part of me. I have been too wired in spiritual quests and philosophical filtering. But I am that girl that can make Ibiza feel like a Jain shrine, and make a Kerala out of Kuta. So we'll see. Else, the true pilgrimage is always the journey to within. (<--- See what I mean with making Ibiza be a shrine?! Bleahh)
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| Hic et Ubique means Here and Everywhere. Google found this for me, completely nothing to do with my writing of Pilgrimage, this is a logo of some high end Anglo-American organization ;) |
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