The Place We Call Home

The pilgrims I observed today have wings. Like the migratory salmon of the Pacific Northwest, they love their sanctuaries, but these airborne creatures never travel far from home. They are the resident birds of this region who are kindred spirits with every creature that could be described as "sedentary" rather than "nomadic". With neither the instinct nor the means to travel, they spend all their days in one small corner of the planet. I came across them in my afternoon walk, and they caught me daydreaming of an upcoming trek on the pilgrim road to Santiago de Compostela. That's just who I am. My ancestors were Vikings, and I live for the experience of venturing off and coming home. But the cormorants and the gulls called be back to the moment, to the place, to the rocky shore where I stood. Like many people I know, their daily pilgrimage is not one of displacement. Rather,it is a journey of discovery that connects them more deeply to the environment that has nurtured them since birth. Historically, this form of inner pilgrimage has been misunderstood. In his book "The Place We Call Home", Murray Bodo tells of a small sixteenth century engraving from the title page of "Information for Pilgrims Unto the Holy Land". In it, he says, "a pilgrim strides forth confidently, leaving behind a walled city. Standing half-in and half-out of the gate, another figure watches the pilgrim. His right hand holds his heart, as if to protect and to hold in the desire to follow in the pilgrims footsteps. Then, as now, the pilgrim is the one who dares to set forth; the stay-at-home hesitates on the threshold of his or her safe, familiar world." Bodo goes on to challenge the notion that we have to favor one over the other. "Pilgrimages are not about one place being more sacred than another", he says. I find this to be wise counsel on my winter walk in the place where I live for more than 300 days a year. I can't shut out all thoughts of rioja and manchego after a day of trekking through medieval towns and glorious fields of poppies, but I can journey more deeply into this place that I call home, and I can do as the cormorants who live here all year round- I can spread my wings while standing in one place in order to soak up the precious rays of sun.