Not conscious that you have been asking
suddenly 
you come upon it 

the village in the Welsh hills
dust free
with no road out
but the one you came in on

R.S. Thomas

There are 18 pilgrims.

The majority of our group is from St. David’s Episcopal Church in Minneapolis. And then there are a few people from Pennsylvania, and then there is me – the lone one from the South.

My sister is the rector of the St. David’s congregation, though she’s not one of the leaders of this trip, she’s one of our group.

I am here because she invited me.

Right away, these church folks are so welcoming to me, and easy. They’re like a close, extended family.

But me? I’m not part of this family.

Still, I would follow my sister just about anywhere.

---

Last year, when she asked me to go to Wales, I said yes without hesitation.

Wales, I thought, a wild place.

Wales, a place I know little about, and a country that fell through the cracks of our time in Europe.

Images of bright green fields, and massive stone fences.

Wild ponies?

Mostly I think about tired farmers living out hard lives. And mutton.

And I’m a little curious about the pilgrimage part in the travel description.

It kind of made me wonder, but hey – the reading list was poetry – and books on Celtic meditation!

And paganism!

And so I imagined windswept cliffs and foggy days.

A scrappy, rural place. A mystic place out of time (time travel!)

A place of deep folklore and tradition. A wee country far away from my own, thankfully – what a relief.

A place of peace and healing, perhaps.

Don’t we all need that?

Anyway, of course, I say yes.

---

It is the second day, and already my body feels like it is forgetting the familiar routine of home.

I am letting go of the outside world, specifically, my cell phone and the U.S. news media.

Like shrugging a backpack from my shoulders, I feel instantly lighter.

I am a seeker now. And I recognize that my fellow travelers are the same.

Jet lagged, rumpled, away from our small creature comforts, we come together as fellow wanderers, to walk away from regular life for a while.

To explore a new place.

We are open, and curious, and intentional.

Still, I am a little self-conscious about being identified as a pilgrim – I’m not sure why. It just sounds a little self-important, or pious, or maybe just too churchy.

It doesn’t matter.

Because I really like this whole group and the wonderful leaders.

And I’m sure the community will evolve to include me. With all of the bus time, and hiking time and time in the pubs.

Each of us is curious – we are seekers.

And already, I sense that each of us will find our own path to pilgrimage.

Some will choose hard hikes, others might rest.

Some will do yoga on the mat, and others from a chair.

Some will journal, others would rather not.

Some will travel slowly, others will be brisk.

And it doesn’t matter, we are together.

We are all passengers on this one bus – all heading down a dusty road to the next Welsh village.

We are en route to an ancient place – with no road out but the one we came in on.