“Turn into my place and sit quietly.

Drink from my stream and my vintage.

Cast off your shoes, discard your hardships

and listen to my evening song.

I seek a heart that is simple.

With the peaceful I spread my tent.

I will wash your feet and dry them.

My silence will be their perfume.”

~ unknown

I don’t really know what time it was when I set out from the McDonald’s.  I do know that it was still dark, I do know that it was freezing cold, and I do know that – even though the center of the storm had passed – it was still drizzling rain.  No matter to this pilgrim.  There was a feeling that I would get on this Pilgrimage – a “knowing” that almost demanded that I rise up from a place of rest and start walking again.  And such a summons rousted me this morning as well.  Even though it was still dark and cold outside, and even though the McDonald’s was warm and toasty, I knew that it was somehow “time to go” – that it was somehow important that I do so …

… and so on I went.

Before heading out, seeing as how I had purposefully packed no rain jacket for the Journey, I asked the McDonald’s manager for two of their largest trash bags, which I then fashioned into a rain poncho.  OK, you really can’t use any form of the word “fashion” when describing how I looked at that point, but they did do the trick against the light rain that was still coming down.  What they did not do the trick against was the harder rain that starting pouring on me as soon as I walked out the door …

I hadn’t gone but a few hundred yards when became necessary to pull over out of the wetness.  I found a deserted mini-mall and tried to get some sleep curled up in a chair outside one of its stores as the rain kept coming down.  This just didn’t work.  I even tried cocooning myself inside the trash bags, but it was becoming apparent that I was not going to be able to sleep at all until the evenings here got a little warmer.

So, after trying unsuccessfully one more time to get some sleep (this time on a very short bench outside a nearby BBQ joint), I gave up and started walking through the night once more.

Now there are a few tips that I would give anyone attempting such a Walk – a few tips that most folks wouldn’t think would be important.  And one of those tips is not to wear garbage bags while walking through rural north-Georgia.  You see, folks keep dogs in rural north-Georgia – dogs that are often penned up in very small cages very close to the road; dogs that are ornery to start with; and dogs that do not at all care for the noise that garbage bags make when they being blown about by the wind while being worn by a Peace Pilgrim.

I will admit that this is another of very few times that I was actually nervous during the Trek.  The dogs I kept irritating with my outfit had been startled from their slumber, they were nervous of my presence, and they were naturally defending “their turf” – a combination that will make even the most gentle of creatures a bit nasty.  I remember one time where several hounds were awoken by the rustlings of my impromptu raingear – and they were not penned up!  I was, thank goodness, already on the other side of the road (never run from the angry!), so I simply stopped right where I was and remained very still – trying my best to radiate Love to them as opposed to fear that I knew they would “smell” and want to attack.   This was not an easy proposition, in the dark, very tired, and only a few yards from a small band of snarling dogs – and yet I managed to do so well enough, as evidence by their grumblings, which soon more confused than aggressive.

Of course, the issue then became:  how in the world was I going to move down the road away from them, knowing that any movement in retreat would be perceived as a fearful one.  The answer provided itself for me (don’t they always!) and it actually came in the form of yesterday’s nemesis:  traffic.  I simply waited for a car to come along, and then moved quickly down the shoulder of the road while it passed between my canine friends and me.  It took some time to get far enough away from them to start smoothly walking again, and yet that time did arrive, and on I went – wishing them well as I did so.

After all, like so many of the angry folks we encounter in life, these dogs really were just doing their best to care for those they loved – even though, also like most of the angry folks we encounter in life, they were protecting their loved ones from those who were more potential friend than probable enemy.

This was a lesson I vowed to remember …

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