The Body, Pilgrimage, and Healing

I was playing softball on Monday evening. I took my position at short stop in the third inning. I was excited to continue as I had completed two successful plays already and was hoping for more. There was a runner on first, and a strong hitter was standing at the plate. He whacked a grounder toward me. I got low, dropped my glove, yet instead of fielding with my glove, I fielded with my leg. Thankfully, I tossed the ball to second to end the inning, but recognized quickly that my leg was growing in girth.

I don’t recommend searching YouTube for “softball injury to shin”. The results are quite disgusting. The lack of skin and fat at the shin results in some gnarly swelling and infection. Anyway, I was nervous about the injury. I could walk fine and continued to play. I called a nurse friend to get a consultation, but realizing it was 10:30pm, I should have thought better than to bother her. She called me back and listened to my problem. She wanted the swelling to go down and wanted me to understand that once it did, the injury could be worse. I was a tad afraid.

When I came home to Lindsay, she quickly said, “you need to be careful with your body; you are going to need it this summer.” I had never thought about that. 

John O’ Donohue is a helpful voice for me as I consider my body. O'Donohue was a poet, mystic, teacher, and healer. His completed works are a gift to spirituality. His Irish faith finds life in the concrete, especially creation and the body. His vision for the body towards healing is compelling and significant. 

As I consider pilgrimage this summer and logging 12-20 miles per day, I am growingly aware that my body is and will speak to me. The body keeps the score is one way to say it; O’Donohue says the mind can deceive you and you can deceive yourself for years, but 

"The body doesn't lie; the body tells you If you attend to it - how your life is and what you are actually doing to and with your soul. The body has a wonderful intelligence; everything we do demand to the most refined detail the actual cooperation of all of our senses. So the body as the house of our belonging in the world is a very sacred temple; it’s a holy and wise person that spends time in silence before the mystery of their own bodies. Its unfortunate that its often only when we are ill that we realize how fragile and precious the body actually is. Sometimes when I work with people who are ill, or people who are having operations, I always try to get them to have a conversation with the part of their body that is ill - to talk to it as a partner, to thank it for all it has done and all it has suffered… Our body is really a crowd of different members who work in harmony to make our belonging in the world possible and creative. We should say farewell forever to the false dualism which separates the soul from the body." (Longing and Belonging from Audible, Chapter 5, 3:04-3:06)

The imagery for the church is obvious. Yet to remain close to my own body and its physiology and biology is something. I imagine the body will speak in powerful ways this summer - ways I have forgotten or failed to attend. This little blemish on my shin is but a reminder to attend to my body - I did what John requested and spoke to my left leg yesterday and gave gratitude for the miles of running, the joys of walking, and the daily gift my leg grants me. I recognized the suffering of my legs through poor water consumption, which leads to routine swelling. I notice how my leg participates in me. This all feels very mysterious and sacred. It also feels foolish, but nonetheless, believing in the sacred is foolish, and yet I do.

Preparing for a pilgrimage is an invitation to notice my body. It rarely lies and is seeking to console my decades of self-deception. I imagine in the first days of walking, my body will have much to say should I choose to attend.

I offer the following poem for pilgrims written by John O Donohue. I also recommend reading or listening to his great work, Anam Cara. The poem is called "The Traveler"

Every time you leave home,

Another road takes you

Into a world you were never in.

New strangers on other paths await.

New places that have never seen you

Will startle a little at your entry.

Old places that know you well

Will pretend nothing

Changed since your last visit.

When you travel, you find yourself

Alone in a different way,

More attentive now

To the self you bring along,

Your more subtle eye watching

You abroad; and how what meets you

Touches that part of the heart

That lies low at home:

How you unexpectedly attune

To the timbre in some voice,

Opening in conversation

You want to take in

To where your longing

Has pressed hard enough

Inward, on some unsaid dark,

To create a crystal of insight

You could not have known

You needed

To illuminate

Your way.

When you travel,

A new silence

Goes with you,

And if you listen,

You will hear

What your heart would

Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:

Make sure, before you go,

To take the time

To bless your going forth,

To free your heart of ballast

So that the compass of your soul

Might direct you toward

The territories of spirit

Where you will discover

More of your hidden life,

And the urgencies

That deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,

Gathered wisely into your inner ground;

That you may not waste the invitations

Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,

And live your time away to its fullest;

Return home more enriched, and free

To balance the gift of days which call you.

~ John O'Donohue ~ 


I begin sabbatical on July 1, 2018. Part of my sabbatical is pilgrimage as leadership discernment. I will say more later about why I am doing this in relationship to my role at WTS. However, between now and July 23, when I begin my first steps, I will blog weekly about my preparations, whether spiritual or physical.


I am walking the Camino in Spain. I will do the Way of Francis for 33 days. the first 23 days I will be alone, and the final ten days will be visited by three close friends. I covet your prayers and invite you to join me as a reader and friend. Welcome back to Pilgrims' Home.