Morning Journal

 Morning Journal

Friday, November 8

 

I’m very tired. Slept well. Feet are tender. The sand walking takes a toll all the way around. Last night was so fun, but a little overwhelming. The atmosphere will be lighter going forward with Ina and Frikkie. It appears I’ve lost Cynthia entirely to Nicole. She’s so happy to have her here. I expected a shift, but maybe not so complete. I’m okay with it. Don’t mind being the single. The two who are up and awake now may not be thrilled having me as their third for the next 4 nights. I’m good with whatever, so relieved to have A. gone. I can do anything for 4 days. 

 

I would like to enjoy these days. My fatigue is the thing making it harder. Today will likely be a social day, although I would prefer to be alone. It’s hard to bring myself out into the open enough to be friendly. Maybe it’s time to start coming back into the world. I will grab moments as I can. Being odd man will help that. 

 

Food was better yesterday, maybe because of the huge hit of protein in the morning. It’s almost impossible to focus on nutrition, especially now when hunger is powerful and I’m too tired to sort one hunger from another. Maybe knowing that will help when I get home. I can’t feed fatigue with food. 

 

For the entire pilgrimage to this point, I copied only bits from Anam Cara that spoke to me during my morning journal time. On this particular morning, the following poem felt like it appeared as a beacon to guide me through my fatigue to the finish line. I copied it into my journal in its entirety, and so I offer John O’Donohue’s wisdom here now.

 

For the Traveler

 

Every time you leave home,

Another road takes you

Into a world you were never in.

 

New strangers on other paths await.

New places that have never seen you

Will startle a little at your entry.

Old places that know you well 

Will pretend nothing

Changed since your last visit.

 

When you travel, you find yourself

Alone in a different way,

More attentive now

To the self you bring along,

Your more subtle eye watching

You abroad; and how what meets you

Touches that part of the heart

That lies low at home:

 

How you unexpectedly attune

To the timbre in some voice,

Opening in conversation

You want to take in

To where your longing

Has pressed hard enough

Inward, on some unsaid dark,

To create a crystal of insight

You could not have known

You needed

To illuminate

Your way.

When you travel, 

A new silence

Goes with you,

And if you listen

You will hear

What your heart would

Love to say.

 

A journey can become a sacred thing:

Make sure, before you go,

To take the time

To bless your going forth,

To free your heart of ballast

So that the compass of your soul

Might direct you toward

The territories of spirit

Where you will discover

More of your hidden life,

And the urgencies

That deserve to claim you.

 

May you travel in an awakened way,

Gathered wisely into your inner ground;

That you may not waste the invitations

Which wait along the way to transform you.

 

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,

And live your time away to its fullest;

Return home more enriched, and free

To balance the gift of days which call you.