'To become aware of the sacramental nature of the cosmos,
to be open to the sacramental possibilities of each moment, to see the face of Christ in every person,
these things are not novel,
but their rediscovery is the beginning of our health' (Ron Ferguson - from Millars' Notes for a Pilgrim bought in Iona - expresses beautifully the lessons of the Camino for me.)
Well! Here I am in Iona - close to the final stage of my pilgrimage before I return to Australia on Monday (arriving on Wednesday, before anyone starts panicking!) It was a very long journey here - catching the midnight Caledonian Sleeper from Euston station, followed by another train and a series of busses and ferries before arriving on Iona yesterday afternoon. Despite predictions of rain and gloom, there have been many shafts of sunlight, dancing rainbows and even blue skies (although there's also a strong wind, strong enough to have knocked me off balance this morning, and there was rain last night) Mark would have loved this place - surrounded by the sea. I also laughed when I read part of the history of St Columba coming here (after committing the first recorded breach of copyright in history and starting a mini-war!) - apparently he ensured that there would be no females on the island and no cows because 'where's there's a cow, there's a woman, and where's there a woman, there's mischief'! Which reminds me of the M.A.R.A. rule that Mark insisted was part of his noviciate training - only mixing with women of Mature Age and Repulsive Appearance (I'm sure he made this up, but I heard about it repeatedly from him!!)
Travel on the Caledonian Sleeper was an unexpected pleasure - I had a 'special' deal at £19 and was expecting to sit up all night, with possibly a reclining seat - instead, I had a room to myself complete with washbasin, a very comfortable bunk with clean sheets, two pillows and a duvet, complimentary toileteries, and breakfast in bed! And am looking forward to the more of the same on the way back.
After travelling through the most beautiful Scottish countryside - lochs, braes, golden forested hillsides with water cascading down the steep hills (apparently this is not always seen) - arriving in Iona has been a magical experience. I can well understand why it is referred to as a 'thin' place, where the division between the material world and the spiritual world is very thin. I am staying in the House of Prayer, a house established 11 years ago as a place of hospitality and welcome. Although it can take ten guests, there are only two of us at present, myself and an English woman of about my age, two of whose children are living and working in Africa (Africa KEEPS coming up on this journey and I have realised that I have to go there! - more of that later..) - her son is a very keen kayaker (has kayaked in the Arctic Circle) - and her daughter works for a Christian charity in Tanzania. The House is run by the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart (no connection with the order in Australia) - and Sister Joan is our hostess, a small, practical woman who has been incredibly welcoming. The House is beautifully designed with great bay windows overlooking the sea front and an Oratory (Chapel) which is very simple and where we gather for prayer. We have the Office at 8.00am, followed by breakfast together, and then Mass or a Communion Service at 5.00pm, followed by dinner together. There is also a nightly service in the Abbey, where week long retreats are held, organised by the members of the Iona Community. Last night, I simply wanted to sit quietly and read some of the books available in the house, but I'll go tonight.
It's ironic that I had made the arrangements to come here because I had expected these days to be very hard - some significant anniversaries at this time for Mark and myself, and his birthday on the 4th - but it's been another experience of great peace and deep gratitude. Last night at the Communion Service, we read a reflection on the readings written by someone who had subsequently died of leukaemia - yet another of the God synchronicities I've repeatedly encountered. When I told her about Mark and about my experiences on the Camino, Sister Jean said that her own mother had died when she was only 15 and there had been many people who could not accept the tragedy. She had found it difficult to explain that, while she had grieved and missed her mother, she had also felt quite peaceful because her mother was a woman of deep faith and had been able to help the family see her death as part of a bigger story. Also last night, I re-read the final chapter of Anam Cara (I know I've misspelt that...), John O'Donohue's book, where he talks of the Celtic understanding of death and the ways in which the dead are still with us (and don't we pray that every time we recite the Creed and mention 'the communion of the saints'?) - I read some of it at the time that Mark died, but how much more it means now to me.
Am about to go for a walk to the other end of the island, so will finish here. Am hoping to go to see Ben with Alex (Ben, I hope Alex has phoned you!!!!) on Saturday, then a peaceful day on Sunday before the return. Today is the Feast day of the Guardian Angels so may all your angels protect you! (And yesterday was St Therese of Lisieux - very very special for those of us from Whyalla).
