the stony path of the West Highland Way drops in and out of sight. my fellow walkers and i trust it will lead us to our destination, just as i am learning to trust Stillness on this journey of disconnection. may 20, 2022. photo by anne richardson.
astonished by the disconnection
Stillness is elusive. asking me to disconnect. to strip down to a deeper essence. literally. physically, metaphorically. spiritually. i have found myself astonished by this asking. though i came on this sojourn without expectations…well, if i’m honest, i suppose i had them, even if they were unnamed.
finding nourishment in stories of others
i am operating on two levels. level one goes about the day being aware of all the kindness offered (i have encountered kindness at every turn, which i have reflected on when writing on my personal Facebook posts.) for these acts of kindness, i am very grateful. and for all the people who i have met so far—beyond grateful. they have nourished me with their stories.
uncomfortable with not knowing
then there is this subterranean part of me that is adrift. finding it difficult to listen. to trees (and trust me i have told a fair number of trees “i love you!”) wind. birds. water. rocks. land. disconnected. this land is home. I’m SUPPOSED to hear the wisdom. at least that is what i told myself. Stillness says, “not yet.” i don’t like it. uncomfortable.
disconnected. hints of connecting. disconnected again. often literally as efficient as WIFI has been sparse on this sojourn. to post my blogs via Squarespace—too much bandwidth needed. i will need to do the bare minimum to get this out…another letting go. can’t include photos of all those trees!
it began with the West Highland Way trek:
trudge, trudge, trudge. rain all but one day of the seven days i walked the West Highland Way (WHW.) so many other folks beside my group of twelve walking the stony path. day two had wind pushing my poles sideways as i climbed up, then down Conic Hill. it took complete concentration to navigate a steep slip-slide path of wet rock and loose scree. rain needling my face. where is Stillness in that? day three again heavy rain, climbing over rocks, tree roots, avoiding (without success) mud and at the end of the day a “sting the tail:” a steep climb that appears to go on forever. my legs, if they had eyes, would be glaring. instead they do what i ask and take one more step, over and over. again, i ask myself, where is Stillness?
my total focus on the present moment. to not be present means falling (my sticks saved me at least three times during the walk.) and still…a cuckoo charms us for five, ten minutes in some trees beyond a field of bluebells as we journey around Loch Lomond. Stillness, is there between the cuc and the koos. cuc koo cuc koo cuc koo. and again in the milliest of milliseconds between raindrops tap tap tapping on my hood. when i stop to breathe, Stillness glimpsed, but then the connection is gone.
offering gratitude amid frustration
whether it was steep climbs. steep descents. rain. mud. stony paths with a variety of rock shapes and sizes, each day had its combination of invitations. okay—challenges, not invitations. i want to say it was walking with others that made it difficult to connect with Stillness. or i didn’t have time to transition between the busyness of daily life before the walk to be alone and drop down, having only two days from flight out of town to meeting new folks. but those are excuses. i have practices that can work around time changes and need to extrovert. and i had moments of solitary walking to listen and i did offer my deep gratitude to the rugged beauty that surrounded me, because no matter where i am physically or spiritually that is a practice i have ingrained into my body and soul. so no, Stillness knew i wasn’t ready.
gifts to be found
and there were gifts, even if i didn’t have that sought after Stillness “awakening:”
in the rain it is commonsense to put your rain cover on your pack. they are often colorful: red, blue, green, orange, yellow. walkers in the distance, their covers pulsing in the wind reminded me of prayer flags. i imagined embodied prayers being pressed into Earth by walkers then released to the Universe through these pulsating colors.
the cuckoo returned the last day, cheering our weary, spent bodies on. cuc koo cuc koo cuc koo.
a rainbow spanned a moor at the end of a day when, after a spot of sun, rain returned. stunning.
so many waterfalls and rivulets. so many. dancing. singing. flowing.
much of the WHW is a converted military road. quite a feat back in the day. but the one message i received (yes, i did receive one!) shortly after i finished the walk is a sense of sorrow from the land. but there is this: people from the UK, Canada, Germany, US, New Zealand, Australia, etc are walking together in kindness (there was a lot of kindness!) i’d like to think walkers in some way are contributing to healing what was wounded.
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uncomfortable::still saying “yes”
it is just over a week since i left the stony path. i have traveled to the Isles of Mull and Iona. visited Oban. am just settling into the Lowlands of Scotland for a week. i have more on Stillness from the week following the WHW, but will leave it here for now, except to say, Stillness is taking me on a journey and i have no idea where it will lead, but i said “yes” to being an apprentice, so will allow the tears that are stirring. the uncomfortableness. the not-knowing.
extending kindness & generosity
i have been shown an abundance of kindness and generosity on this sojourn. may you extend to yourself and those you encounter in your life kindness. with all that is unfolding in our world right now, we can all offer kindness. we are all wanderers of some sort.
with deepest gratitude,
anne
ps—thank you for following along with these raw reflections…typos and all.
For Your Reflection
When have you sought Stillness or another way of being (such as wisdom, patience, ???) and found the journey unfolding in ways unexpected? What feelings arose? How have you embedded the discoveries into your life?
When have you felt disconnected from yourself, others, place? What stirred in you during that time of disconnection? How did the journey toward reconnection unfold?
Final Thought
This essay, Unraveling, by Terry Tempest Williams about undid me while I was waiting for my soup in a little cafe today. Tears welled to the surface. The word resonated. Unraveling. Disconnected. My body felt off-kilter. Perhaps Stillness will lead me through this unraveling and disconnection into….i don’t know yet. i don’t need to.
Terry Tempest Williams is a wise woman. I recommend reading her books and/or essays.
Rainbow expanding over a Scottish highland moor. may 19, 2022. photo by anne richardson
