Sacred journeying? I’ve been doing it wrong. My understanding of sacred journeys was first formed by fairy tales and then by Lynn Andrews and Carlos Castenada. From there it expanded into a deep longing to go on a spiritual trek to Macha Picchu, Glastonbury Tor, China’s Great Wall. So many far-away places where I knew—knew on a cellular level—that I would find my true spiritual self.
Like many, my sacred journey thinking far outpaced my forty hour a week paycheck. I despaired of ever finding that pinnacle of spiritual success. My butt was never going to perch on a mountain top beside a wise guru. I’d never feel that magical key-in-the-right-slot moment when the solstice sun rose over Stonehenge. My pilgrimage dreams were thwarted by my bank account.
As I matured from that twenty-something seeker into this fifty-something seeker, it occurred to me I might have been wrong about the concept of a sacred journey. It was hard to admit at first. Who wants to own up to a thirty year mistake? And I mean I completely blew it on this one. My lifelong belief that a sacred journey meant time and effort not to mention that miraculous astral ringing bell moment of arrival? Utterly and completely wrong. Tibet, Peru, Ireland and even the redwood forest were not the only sacred journeys out there.
WHAT? It isn’t the sacred three of journeying? You know what I mean. Pack light. Eat healthy. Suffer long. Et Voila`! Sacred Journey achieved. Foreign lands traveled. Photos of me in the rising sun taken. Postcards sent. Peace achieved. The realization that I’d gotten it wrong all this time was an eye-opener. No, more than that—it was a soul-opener.
How did I come to this realization? Oddly enough, while I was walking my dogs one morning. That’s something I do every day. The dogs and I head out to enjoy the city block and natural world. Of course their pleasure is a bit different from mine. I love hearing the song of the mocking bird or seeing the herons cruise over my head. I like the way the ants march along so determinedly. The scents that come to me from mown grass or blooming plants are a heady reminder of the world I am blessed to live in. Owning that woke me up to the question of what a sacred journey really is.
What if the sacredness of the journey isn’t in the time, the travel, the suffering? What if the sacredness is in the approach, the effort?
What if I am already taking sacred journeys every time I move with the intention to connect to the Divine? What would that look like? If I made the effort to see, to experience, to know the Universe in the pill bugs and beetle that scurry across the sidewalk? In the harsh call of the crow or the unending song of the bachelor mockingbird? In the slow stately flight of the great blue heron or the soaring spirals of the turkey vultures? What if my journey is reflecting in the summer evening dance of the firefly?
What if I’ve been on a sacred journey for over fifty three years now and haven’t realized it? Or worse, have squandered that journey time? Left huge chunks of beside unnoticed roads, unheard bird songs, unappreciated laughter of friends? Who have I missed seeing as my mountaintop guru simply because they were pushing a buggy at the grocery store next to me instead of poised on a pinnacle? What if that random child who offered me a daisy she’d picked was my teacher for that day? I began to realize that I had probably failed many a homework assignment simply because I didn’t look for the teachers in my every day life.
As I walked my dogs that morning, I felt as if a veil had been lifted from my face. Now mind you, I’ve lived those thirty something years as a pagan, a priestess, a person presenting herself as a seeker. To suddenly realize that I’d been missing a big part of the picture was a profound moment. But I still had to pick up poop. I still had to watch my step so that I didn’t step on any random travelers from the insect world. Life had to keep going on.
That was an even bigger message to me. If I wasted time worrying that I had been ungrateful to the teachers and lessons already learned, then I had missed the purpose of the Universal wake up call. Perhaps my blind, unseeing sacred journey had been a lesson all in itself. So that at this moment on that Texas city sidewalk I could wake up to the beauty of the life I’ve always been living.
I do affirmations every day to help set my intent for that day. This is the one I wrote after that morning dog walk.
Today I am on a journey of sacred intent. I intend to connect to the Universe through all that I see today. I will live intentionally as a professional joy seeker. I will connect my spirit to that greater whole. Loved and loving, I love each of you. Seek joy, y’all. Pass it on.
What does your journey look like?
Seek joy, y’all. May your sacred journey be everything you want it to be. I hope the Universe showers you with joy.
