Wanderlust

Generally speaking, I have a good sense of direction. I can hop in the car, drive all over the place and always find both my destination and my way back home. That skill holds true on walks in the woods and even in the foreign cities I’ve visited. I was particularly proud that I could lead my small group (including my mom) from St. Patrick’s Cathedral back to St. Stephen’s Green in Dublin on foot. I suppose this ability comes from being a visual learner, and so the only place my sense of direction is challenged is underground. When I take the metro or subway in any large city, I not only carry a map in my hand, but I also write down my stops, and look at them on the map several times until I get the route fixed in my head. Okay, so I get labeled as a tourist—at least I’m not going to be a lost tourist!

I know there are people who live in large cities who rely on the underground trains to get them safely and quickly from one place to another. If I were to try to navigate without a map or specific directions, it would send me on a journey of frustration. In the 12th Century, the image of the journey became a popular symbol for the spiritual quest. A harkening back to the days of old, fascination with storytelling, and the new science of mapmaking—and geography—inspired seekers to make a connection between the inner journey and the outer journey. What, then, are the maps and markers that I need to make the spiritual journey?

In Celtic spirituality, the practice of peregrinatio is one “discipline” that repeatedly shows up in both the descriptions of the spiritual practice and in the vitae of the saints who were revered in the golden era of that tradition. Peregrinatio, in simple terms, is a wandering. The first example who comes to mind is the Irish St. Brenden who wandered the seas with his monks, and who according to legend, could have sailed as far as North America. In Celtic Christianity: Making Myths and Chasing Dreams, Ian Bradley says, “In Celtic Christianity, too, the theme had been central, notably in the stress on peregrinatio as both an inner and outer experience, a reminder of the need not to become too attached to the things of this world, to travel through it as a pilgrim and stranger and to concentrate on the journey to and beyond death.”

This idea is woven into the psyche of human kind, and in short, is part of the collective unconscious a much discussed term in Jungian psychology. The hero’s journey, songs such as “I am a pilgrim and a stranger,” and poetry such as Homer’s Odyssey or Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” all reflect the idea of journey. It is, in fact, the journey into wholeness.

The journey we take, the pilgrimage, is one we must take on our own. Carl Jung, whose growing popularity as an analyst made him a much sought after guru, stated that he did not want people to “follow” him. In fact, he did not even want people to “follow” the Christ. Instead, he wanted people to seek their true individual selves. Stephen Aizenstat says, “At the bottom, rooted in our soul body is a wisdom figure who knows our sense of destiny and calling. This wisdom figure holds the key to our becoming." What then is your calling, and where are you going on the journey? As this Advent season ends, where will you find the key?
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Photo by Lloyd Spitalnik
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