“You seek a great fortune, and you will find a great fortune – though it will not be the fortune that you seek.  But first you must travel a long & difficult road; a road fraught with peril … I cannot tell you how long this road shall be, but fear not the obstacles in your path – for Faith has vouchsafed your reward … Though the road may wind, and yea, though your hearts may grow weary, still ye shall follow that road … even unto your Salvation.” ~ Ethan Cohen (“O Brother Where Art Thou?”)

This “random” quote was spot-on as well – I had pulled it from my bag just as the afternoon was starting to resemble Sisyphus rolling his boulder endlessly up that hill in Hades.  Internally, I had been waging my fair share of “endless” epic battles – not only during these first two days of the Pilgrimage, but also over the course of my entire 5-year “career” as a Peace Pilgrim up to that point.   Transcending discomfort (by using pain to empower my acts of Kindness), remaining present in the Here&Now (by returning to noticing the Beauty always surrounding me), and immersing myself in my interactions with others (by focusing on their needs first; treating them like the Children of God they innately are) have all been challenges that I had frequently engaged, and yet was far from mastering.  And my external life had provided me with “patterns” of difficulty as well; situations & types of relationships that seemed to repeat themselves over & over & over again throughout the course of my life.

Of course, on this particular day, an unpleasant pattern began to repeat itself during the course of the Walk.  Allow me to explain …

By mid-afternoon, I’d been walking for hours and hours along a road with very little traffic through areas with practically no residents – no houses, very few buildings, and hardly any people at all.  To make matters even more disconcerting, every hour or so I would pass yet another sign showing yet another route to the town of Dalton.  In and of itself, this was no big deal, but take into account that I had already entered the outskirts of Dalton itself may miles before, and the day began to feel like a bad episode of “The Twilight Zone”.   I could just imagine Rod Serling’s voice – “Here is a man – a man walking a great distance, yet a man going absolutely nowhere.”

Add to this the fact that I was still suffering from an ever-escalating intensity of sleep-deprivation, and the second half of day #2 became a pretty dreary one indeed.  At one point while I was weaving and bumbling along an especially hot stretch of this lonesome road, I heard quite clearly from the recesses of my mind – “If you’re going through Hell, be sure to keep on going.”

So on I went … Sisyphus would have been proud.

And yet to this day, much more than the physical and emotional strain I was experiencing, I still remember the small-yet-significant acts of Kindness from those I met that afternoon …

I remember a young man named Mike stopping his car and offering me a ride (the first person to do so on this Pilgrimage – and one of the very few who did so at all during the entire 40 day Trek).  I was pretty tired when he asked me, and it sure was tempting, but I explained my situation to him and – to his amazement – sent him gently on his way.  In a way, his offer proved to be a gift even though I didn’t directly accept it – as turning him down proved to be a potent strengthener of my resolve to continue the Journey.

I remember wobbling into Whitfield County’s “Fire Station #5” and knocking on the door.  When no one answered, I went around back and discovered a beautiful patio with some of the most comfortable patio recliners you could imagine.  Bingo!  I took off my socks and shoes, propped up my aching feet and slept there for quite some time.  Sometimes, folks will give you gifts without even knowing they’re doing so … 😉

I remember seeing Ponder’s Funeral Home up the hill a ways to the right and heading up its steep driveway – again looking for some shade and a glass of water (it was HOT and I was really thirsty).  Ida met me as I entered, and then – after I told her what I was up to — she proceeded to treat me like royalty.  She was so courteous and polite as she led frumpy, smelly me through the funeral home’s luxurious halls and down to the employee lounge (I was wearing a healthy dose of myrrh oil, so I guess I didn’t smell too bad.  Come to think of it, my smell probably fit right in!).  Here, she gave me coffee and a couple of snickers bars from the vending machine, and then gently demanded that I accept $20 as well.  I turned her down at first and explained why I did so, but she was not to be thwarted.  I then told her that even if I did accept her $20, that I would only give it immediately away to the first stranger I saw.  She said she didn’t care what I did with it, but that I was going to accept it – she then pressed it into my hand and left the building!

Frankly, I didn’t know what to do with this situation … it had never happened this way before.  I couldn’t very well keep the cash, and the only strangers around were customers of the Funeral Home who were there for a family member’s funeral.  And there was no way I was going to be giving them any money.  So, I did what any sensible Peace Pilgrim would do:  I folded up the bill and slid it under the refrigerator – knowing that someone someday was going to get a very nice surprise.  Of course, in retrospect, that fridge might not be moved until that $20 is worth only a nickel, but still …

I remember a very nice fireman in “Fire Department #4” who gave me a bottle of water and chatted with me awhile on the fire station’s front porch.  It was he who also warned me of the “monster storm” that was headed that way, noting rather sternly that I should find shelter before it hit the area that evening.

And I remember seeing a billboard later that afternoon advertising pro-wrestling lessons.  This one was almost too good to be true, and the wrestling “studio” was on an overlook right next to the highway, so I walked up and in to see what I could see.  Inside was real wrestling ring, complete with padded ropes and that special floor that bounces when you land on it after being thrown there violently.  I sat mesmerized by the dozen or so young men (some of whom were very young indeed) who then entered and began practicing their moves.  Part hard-core athletics and part high-drama acting, this sport truly is fascinating.  I mean, on one hand there is quite a bit of showmanship involved – what some label as “fake”.  On the other hand, you just have to admire anyone who can do a back-flip off those ropes – and you really have to admire the courage of the guy waiting on the mat for that back-flipper to land on him.  Sheesh!

Anyway, it was here that I learned that I had taken a “wrong turn” many, many miles ago – that I had been walking most of the day on the Highway 41 bypass that flows around Dalton, not Highway 41 itself that travels directly through that city.  In essence, I had completed almost all of a 20 mile detour – an entire day of walking to make almost no progress!

And yet, though I was initially a bit disappointed in hearing this news, I quickly remembered that it was all “spilt milk”; that I had already walked the majority of this “long way”, and that what was walked was walked.  I sure wasn’t going to turn around and head 18 miles back the way I’d come!

More importantly, I then thought of all the amazing encounters I had shared during those many mostly desolate hours.  I realized at that moment that it had all been worth it – that it had all been perfect – that if I had to do it over again, I would take the bypass once more.  After all, a Pilgrimage (like Life itself) is not about “getting there” quickly, but about immersing yourself in the ride along the way.  Rod Serling himself had said, “Go as far as you like on this road. Its limits are only those of mind itself”, and this is true for any road we happen to take.

And this day had reminded me that, just as there were no “wrong turns” in life, there were no “small” acts of Kindness either.

………….

So I walked on to the end of the bypass, which re-entered Dalton in an industrial zone on the far side of town.   I was pretty beat at this point – stumbling and limping as I went.  Most of the factories there had already closed for the night, though I did find one that was still operating, where I received a bottle of water, along with directions back to the “real” Highway 41 (which was not far off at that point).

At this point in the day’s Journey, I was witnessing quite a few omens of death along the road – dead butterflies, dead birds, even a dead deer – and I was frankly feeling pretty down & out.  I was hungry again, I was exhausted, my feet were really hurting, and it was starting to get cold again.  This was not a good combination for any traveler, much less a Peace Pilgrim who has just walked dozens of miles “on Faith”.

Just as it was getting dark, I passed a restaurant – Antonio’s – and went in to ask for a glass of water and some rest for my aching feet.  I was also hungry, of course, but I had learned my lesson about expecting or even hoping for food at these stops.  As such, I consciously reminded myself that I was only asking for water and that I would be happy with only water regardless.  After informing Antonio about my Pilgrimage and being almost reluctantly offered a booth in which to rest, I sat down for awhile.  I didn’t want to upset Antonio, and probably would have departed sooner, were it not for the intense pain in both my feet.  I eventually did get up to leave and went to thank him for his hospitality, when he asked me if I wanted some food.  My exuberant reply must have been comical, as he could not suppress a grin as he walked back to the kitchen.

These were the true highlights of the Journey – when I was not expecting to be fed and received sustenance anyway, and more importantly, when I got to see firsthand how selfless giving “lights up” even the grumpiest of folks.  Antonio was so happy when he brought me that taco salad, and he was obviously quite pleased watching me snarf it down “con mucho gusto”.  While I was eating, Antonio had also apparently told a table of regulars about my Quest, and they all surrounded me as they were departing – giving me well-wishes and showering me with a light rain of dollar bills.  I once again tried to resist this wave of material generosity, and once again failed – these folks simply demanded that I accept their money and then they left.

Fortunately, I knew exactly what to do with this windfall, having already watched earlier as a young mother doted on her baby in a booth nearby.  I went to Antonio and explained that I was walking my Pilgrimage without the use of any money, and asked him if he wouldn’t be so kind as to give the young woman the money that the good patrons had given me.  A stoic man, it had been difficult to read Antonio’s emotions.  And yet in this moment, it was quite clear that he had been moved by my generosity …

… as I had been moved by yours, Antonio – as I still am by yours.*

“And you are not to be called teacher, for you have one Teacher, and you are all students.

All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

~ Jesus (Matthew 23:8+12)

*for good food cooked by a Good Man, try Antonio’s in Dalton (706-279-3663).

………….

After thanking Antonio profusely, as much for his Kindness & Wisdom as for his food, I walked on into the night.  The storm I had been warned about was quite clearly approaching as I did so, and it was indeed going to be a “monster”.  Now don’t get me wrong, I truly cherish a good thunderstorm – just not so much when I am sleeping in it.  So I started going up to folks’ homes and asking them if I could take shelter from the impending storm in their garages or on their porches.  Maybe it was because it was dark already, or maybe it was because I was a 6’5” scruffy-looking Peace Pilgrim with the odd words “Numinous Nomad” emblazoned on his smock (maybe it was just because I was wearing a smock at all).  Either way, I was consistently refused a place to take cover.

I realized after the fact that this was a pseudo-violation of one of the primary “rules” of the Pilgrimage – “walk until offered shelter”, so I’m actually happy that they all rejected my pleas.

So I’m stumble-limping into the night and the light rain that precedes all monster storms begins to fall and the lightning strikes are getting closer and the winds begins to really pick up – and I remember quite clearly thinking, “This could be trouble.”  I even saw a dead dog by the side of the road.  Things are essentially looking pretty grim at this point, and yet – just as I did frequently in tough times for the rest of the Pilgrimage – I opened my mouth and loudly proclaimed my intention to keep going no matter what; that I would under no circumstances quit on this Pilgrimage.

And within a few hundred yards, I rounded a corner and came across a large truck-stop; a truck-stop that happened to have a nice McDonald’s inside; a McDonald’s that was essentially deserted – where I spent half the night; catching some sleep in 30 minute segments hunched over a McDonald’s table while a storm-of-storms raged outside.

And I remembered gratitude for providence in all its forms (including shelter from the rain) – and I realized once and for all that I was possibly never going to get a good night’s sleep on this Pilgrimage …

… and I was more than OK with that.

Filed under: Peace Pilgrimage #01: Adventures of a Numinous Nomad (2011) by Scaughdt