Pilgrimages change lives beginning the moment you decide to go. Mine began months ago and has had me diving deep ever since. My pilgrimage to Inishmore, Ireland appears to begin in a few days when I take the first of three flights away from home (followed by car rides and a ferry to get to the island). In truth, it began months ago – the moment I decided to go – bringing with it excitement and dread.

That dread means the pilgrimage is already doing its good work.

A pilgrimage is typically a religious and/or spiritual journey that requires effort, even hardship, to make. These things were lost on me when I decided to make the trip.

All I knew was I’d always wanted to visit Ireland, though I never thought I would. Traveling has never been at the top of my list of desires. When I travel, even with my husband or with friends, I get homesick to a degree I’m not able to shake. I can’t ignore it. Even the pleasant and fun distractions of traveling don’t help. I never travel without my companion, Ms. Homesickness.

She shows up the moment plans for travel begin. This means she’s been hanging around for months now.

Though I’ve learned through the years to keep company with her – mostly tolerating her, learning what appeases her, and living with the discomfort of having her around – this time it’s different. She has required so much attention there’s been only one choice to make: hug her to my breast and welcome her!

This time is different for a reason.

I’m traveling alone and to a foreign place by myself for the first time in my life to join a group of fellow pilgrims. A group whose size I don’t know. And who’s leader I haven’t seen in person since August 2016. Though I have attended online meetings he’s led during the past few years as a group of us have gathered to study and celebrate Ancient Celtic Spirituality and Ancient Celtic Christianity.

Our leader is Kirk Webb, the director of The Celtic Center in Seattle, Washington. He is a spiritual director, professor, and psychologist. I’ve known him in all three roles, I’ve known him for a decade, and he is my friend.

That last sentence there appeased Ms. Homesickness. She caught the subtext: everything is going to be just fine. It may be hard. With my other companion, Chronic Pain, it may at times be arduous. But it’s going to be more than just fine. It’s going to be meaningful, deep, and fun – a time of much Curiosity at play.

If Ms. Homesickness accompanies me on every trip, what makes this one so different that I say the pilgrimage began months ago, the moment I decided to go?

My life circumstances have changed since the last time I traveled by myself.

• It’s been a few years since my husband and I have taken an easy beach trip, much more since we flew anywhere.
• We’re considerably older than when we used to travel frequently, with both of us having health issues we didn’t have back then.
• We have a highly sensitive Great Pyrenees dog, Yeti, and a sweet old cat, Maya, that ground and root us to our home. Frankly, Yeti and Maya are my primary means of expressing my longing for motherhood that even in post-menopause resonates through every cell of my body.
• When we moved to the country years ago, I became the primary errand-runner. The number of small things I do daily for my husband and myself, as well as the pets, to be honest, have increased my codependency. And that is where the rubber meets the rode on the pilgrimage having already begun.

 

Ms. Homesickness is scared to leave what’s normal because there’s no one to care for but myself on this trip. A pilgrimage where difficulty and challenge are purposefully built into the experience.

The difficulty and the challenges force my attention inward to myself minus the habit (and trance) of consistently looking out for and taking care of my husband, dog, cat, and home.

(Which, by the way, is one of two reasons my husband wants me to go! 1. Joseph is thrilled to see me make a lifelong dream a reality and 2. He knows the value of me making this journey for myself alone.)

Some might say, “Good grief, woman! Just go on vacation and enjoy yourself!”

But that isn’t how it works. Which is the point.

The point isn’t to go take a fun vacation and “finally” get some “me time.” I take time out for “me time” every single day!

It’s to come face-to-face with all the discomfort of leaving home for so many days and to a foreign place so far away that if an emergency arises at home and I’m needed, it’s going to take days to return.

All the discomfort and all the parts (Ms. Homesickness, Chronic Pain, Codependency, and Whoever else wants to come along for the ride) get to be recognized and receive loving attention in a way that nothing else but this pilgrimage can provide.

And dealing with those parts, those difficult, organic, uncomfortable, grief-filled parts whose only job is to protect me is deep spiritual work.

It is messy. And it has already begun.

The other side of it is this:

I get to see my friend again in a place I’ve always wanted to go because its music, its people, and its land have always moved my soul – as if some ancient part of me resides there.

There will be one or a few people there I’ve met on The Celtic Center’s 0nline gatherings that I’ll get to meet in person.

The pleasure of meeting new people in our group as well as some of those that live and work on the island of Inishmore will be a rewarding experience.

I will have fun! There will be play and pleasure!

And I get to prepare for my trip – the physical part of this pilgrimage – knowing that once I enter the first airport my resiliency and courage will take center stage. All these dear protective parts, so anxious in the anticipation, will relax once traveling is underway. I’ll meet each challenge, even any hardship, with confidence and self-leadership. And I’ll be kind and considerate of others while maintaining my own safe space.

Then the trip of a lifetime, via a portal called “pilgrimage,” that I never thought I’d take, much less in this way, will fill and bless my life.

Ireland – Inishmore, Ireland – here I come!

Sorry, Miss Maya baby, you can’t come with me, honey!