Packing Light: The Patmos Pilgrimage

Preparation is half the journey

I will soon be en route to Athens, Greece, where the Acropolis has been closed due to extreme heat.

Why am I going, given climate change, cost, and all the difficulties of travel?

First of all, my husband Stephen and I were granted scholarships to participate in a GoodWorld Journeys' Salon: Journeying into The Common Good, led by Krista Tippet, Pádraig Ó Tuama, Allison Russell, Joe Henry & JT Nero on the Isle of Patmos, Greece (June 27-July 7). Last Fall, I read this invitation.

You are invited to an extended conversation that asks: how can we speak to each other in a way that moves us all, individually and collectively, to growth, learning, creativity, and change? We will delve into eternal spiritual questions and sacred stories and tap into the wisdom of poetry & song. We’ll consider what it means to stay deeply attuned to our world today while remaining active and consciously aware of how we can best nurture one another and ourselves for the times ahead.

Rereading these words, I feel them strum and pluck my soul. Such a whole body yes to the timing, the luminary leaders, and the sacred island where visionary mysticism formed a book of revelation.

Preparations are in place, and I’m admittedly anxious. I’ve double-checked my itinerary, nervous that I’m screwing up the details of a journey that involves air travel, multiple nights in Athens, two 8-hour ferry rides, and ten days on Patmos, a World Unesco Site in the Dodecanese Islands near Turkey. That is, if everything goes “to plan.”

As a teacher, I’ve flown to India, Europe, Australia, and around the U.S., but my travels almost always ushered me into the arms of gracious InterPlay hosts. I rarely stayed in hotels or navigated my own transportation, even in Malawi. I grew so comfortable relying on InterPlay office staff and on-the-ground organizers that I seldom paid attention to the trip details until it was time to take off.

Not today. Today, I bow to eons of trip planners and immigrants who organized Himalayan treks, maritime crossings, and pilgrimages without internet or phone service! I can’t even imagine the movement of refugees.

Preparation might be half of the journey.

How do you prepare for a big trip? My friend Krystyna is climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro with a group of women. We laughed when she reflected on having organized and led so many group vision quests. But climbing a mountain in Africa in her 70s is different. She said, “My cabin floor is strewn with piles.”

Stephen and I, to make our preparations even more exciting, have decided to take only a carry-on and a small backpack. Lots of people do. Me? Anyone who knows me knows my penchant for props, costumes, gifts, and art materials. I’m just glad it's summer, and scarves don’t weigh a lot. They say the 1-2-3-4-5-6 Rule will last you for two weeks. Pack one hat, two pairs of shoes, three bottoms, four tops (short or long-sleeve or outer layer), five pairs of socks, and six pairs of underwear. Oi.

Packing light is a strategy for life. Thanks to loads of improvising, I know that each moment carries most of what I need. Pictures about “the way things ought to be” create obstacles rather than invitations, even more so for a trip involving fantasies about Greece, Patmos, and a salon with Krista and Pádraig.

Anything can happen. Where will the light come? Where will I need to turn left instead of right? Where will I find the oracle? When will I need to breathe and get still? What injustices will I encounter? Will I know my place? Will I manage my sensitivity with compassion when the instructions are “Open up” and my bodyspirit says, “Small is good.”

The other evening, sitting on the couch with Stephen, he turned to me and said, “All I really need is to enjoy being with you.” “Me too,” I answered, immediately feeling relief for the unspoken grace between us and all we’ve endured and learned through forty-five years of marriage.

We’re prepared, and we’re blessed.

Many friends are sharing in the joy and excitement about the trip. So much so that I feel like I am traveling on behalf of the community. A number are even contributing to the journey as paid subscribers.

I plan to share “postcard reflections” about the experience here on Substack. If you want my Patmos Journal but can’t afford to upgrade, I am happy to comp you for 30 days.

Whatever our little and epic movements are during the summer of 2024, I know The Dancing Center carries us. You and me. Along the way, what great good fortune that artists like Pádraig Ó Tuoma illuminate the path, as in the poem, Traveling Light.

Because sometimes we travel heavy
and those heady times we can barely
imagine the freebody movement of dance.

Because sometimes we travel dark
and from those hard paths we can’t even
conjure an image of sunrise or moonrise or starlight or fire.

Because sometimes we travel solo
and those lonely times we forget all the others
we’ve travelled with lovingly
travelled with home.

Because sometimes we need to be
travelling lightly
because sometimes we’re in need of
regular reminding
that light comes in circles
and waves
and small moments
and light
comes to find us
and light comes with hope.

Enjoy it again with orchestral visual riches.

Next time I write, I will be somewhere else, and hopefully dancing,

Cynthia

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