Poet Karen DuBert writes about Being a Tourist vs. a Pilgrim

Poet Karen DuBert  writes about Being a Tourist vs. a Pilgrim

Guest Writer: Karen DuBert

Two Travellers

Two Travellers

Dust we are—atoms from our world

transformed from minerals and chemicals

that swirled in the beginning

to coalesce into our radiant blue planet

our womb and home.

 

Living here—members of the same material—

separate by volition and movement:

creative spawners of cities to civilizations,

economies to technologies,

miniature images of Creation Genius

we live and move and have our being—a gift.

 

Striding or wandering

through an earth we cannot comprehend,

two paths appear.

Side by side the pilgrim and the tourist:

work, marry, breathe, grow, die

—hearts divergent.

 

The tourist walks weighty

to see, be attracted, entertained, impressed

an explorer seeking adventure and titillation,

leaving a litter-strewn wake:

debris of consumption and satiation.

 

Where tourists clump, trash and noise preside—

inhabitants mere local colour.

Selfies, rest stops, souvenirs, tickets

substitute for cooing doves,

early dawn breezes, daily rhythms.

Clattering cases on cobblestones—

spare no space for ponderous silence.

 

The pilgrim walks gently

to absorb, listen, smell, taste the awe

of each sacred place and time.

Finding the heart behind the beauty,

grieving history’s futile battles—

with bowed head

leaning into fratricide, oppression,

mountains of injustice

perpetuated by our very selves

in this our very home

on these our very sisters and brothers.

 

Seldom enhancing the economy—

a choice not to be laden with treasures

—lavishly given or discarded.

The pilgrim walks lightly, reflects deeply,

carries the essential,

guards the path, collects the litter,

brings the blessing, invites peace.

 

We leave footprints where we walk

it is our choice—

how we walk.

 

This poem is inspired by living in a tourism-driven city (Granada) and by seeing the difference in impact between pilgrims and tourists. Some thoughts, as so many travel during the summer.

(The image is from ChatGPT and is not copyrighted.)

Karen DuBert

Joanna Seibert https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

Living and Learning By the Sea

Paul Tillich’s Response to Seeing the Ocean 

“They say that whenever the theologian Paul Tillich went to the beach, he would pile up a mound of sand and sit on it gazing out at the ocean with tears running down his cheeks...Maybe what made him weep was how vast and overwhelming it was, and yet at the same time as near as the breath of it in his nostrils, as salty as his own tears.”—Frederick Buechner in Beyond Words (HarperOne, 2009).

I share Tillich’s awe whenever I visit the ocean or the Gulf. It is an experience of vastness and closeness with Nature and some Power greater than ourselves. Today, I also think about how dangerous the sea can be, as I recall past prayers for friends on the North Carolina coast who were devastated by Hurricane Florence. I recall the extensive destruction along the Gulf of Mexico following hurricanes Frederick, Ivan, Katrina, Michael, Laura, and Sally.

I also think of the pleasure the sea and the sand have brought to generations. The sound of the waves calms my soul. Watching children swim and play in the sand pulls at the heartstrings of the child within me. Watching families, lovers, and children walk along the surf is a lesson in our connectedness to one another. The dolphins, pelicans, and lone osprey constantly remind us of the variety of coexisting life with agendas that differ from ours. The “turtle people” who walk the beach in the early morning, searching for turtle tracks to secret nests, are icons of faithfulness and a caring attitude towards something other than themselves.

I see the ocean, the sea, the Gulf, and the sand as icons of something created out of love, no matter the process. Living by the sea is like being in a loving relationship with a spouse, friend, or children. Whenever we offer ourselves, our love, to another, it can be beautiful beyond words, like the sea.

Hurricane Laura Joanna Campbell

Living on the Gulf, we are open to storms, sometimes as ugly and powerful as these hurricanes. But like the people I observe by the sea, we remember that the positive potential of love always overwhelms the possible hurtful negative. The lows are pale compared to the highs. So we keep picking up the mess and forgive the wind, the sea, and those we love, and hope they can forgive us for the harm we knowingly or unknowingly do to them.

Henri Nouwen calls Nature “God’s Hidden Language.”

“Nature is not a possession to be conquered, but a gift to be received with respect and gratitude. Only when we make a deep bow to the rivers, oceans, hills, and mountains that offer us a home, only then can they become transparent and reveal to us their real meaning. All of nature conceals great secrets that cannot be revealed unless we listen carefully and patiently to God’s hidden language.1”

1Henri Nouwen in Discernment: Reading the Signs of Daily Life

“Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

The Examen at Night, Seeing Where God Had Been Working in Your Life Each Day

Schmidt: Ignatius, Examen

Guest Writer Frederick W. Schmidt

“The Examen builds on the insight that it’s easier to see God in retrospect than in the moment.”—James Martin, The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life (HarperOne, 2010), p. 97.

“Rummaging for God” in our lives.

One of the central practices in Jesuit devotion—the one Ignatius of Loyola considered indispensable—was the Examen, a prayer. Ignatius believed that the key to spiritual growth was cultivating awareness of when and where God had been present throughout the day. He considered it so important that he urged his followers to do the Examen, even if it cost them the little time they might have for prayer. 

One writer describes this as “rummaging for God” in our lives. Rummaging is an excellent, commonplace activity we often resort to when we have lost something; car keys, phones, and umbrellas have been among my favorites over the years.

The Examen is a practice that reveals something important about the spiritual life: spiritual practice is preeminently about cultivating a sense of God’s presence. It isn’t about devotional piety or the number of hours we spend in overtly religious activity. It isn’t an anxious, endless effort to earn God’s love. The spiritual life is about cultivating habitual awareness of God’s presence, which shapes and informs our lives.

Ignatius recommends two questions:

One: What events in your life today—the moments, conversations, and choices—brought you closer to God and to others in love?

Two: What events in your life today—the moments, conversations, and choices—drove you away from God and others?

The answers to those simple questions invite us to evaluate our lives from a spiritual center. They are not about what feels good and what doesn’t. Some things—such as addiction—feel good at first but invariably isolate us from God and others. By contrast, some things that don’t feel good, like asking for forgiveness, can draw us closer to God and to those around us.

Instead, these questions raise our awareness of how patterns, habits, and choices shape our lives and, armed with that knowledge, help us learn to be more readily available to God and others.

Rummaging around in our lives for God can be a source of inspiration, encouragement, strength, gratitude, and a renewed sense of spiritual purpose. That’s not a bad outcome for an activity that usually yields dust bunnies and lost umbrellas.—The Rev’d Dr. Frederick W. Schmidt.