2019 … The Beauty of Bonnefon
One of the more memorable happenings of my entire pilgrimage came I made a wrong turn while exiting the town of Saint Chely and walked in exactly the wrong direction for many hours before realizing my mistake. Devoutly believing in the principle of “never going back” the way I had already come, I shrugged my shoulders and chose to press onward into the route-less countryside of France, eventually making it to a tiny hostel next to a tiny church in the tiny town of Bonnefon; a hostel where a group of ex-high-school comrades happened to be finishing up their yearly reunion celebrating their now 40+ year friendship – a group of truly lovely people who proved to be not only deeply fascinated by my Walk, but also profoundly sympathetic to my current plight. Indeed, all I did was tell them that I was walking for peace and ask for directions back towards the town of L’Estrade, and they proceeded to quite jovially welcome me inside and began showering me with charity — food and maps and even a ride back to The Way (the latter of which, of course, I gently yet firmly declined, and the former of which, of course, I hungrily and thankfully indulged). Indeed, these fine people showered me from start to finish with interest, amazement, affection, and sustenance. And upon finally finding a member who could indeed point me in the right direction, I departed their lovely presence, but not before they all gave me a heartfelt hug one after the other (there were over 15 of them gathered there at the time) — more than few of them with tears in their eyes — and not before they all stood and applauded me loudly as I headed “For Peace!” out the door and down the hill …
“Like everyone who has never known Love, he thought one chose the person to be adored after endless deliberations on their particular qualities or advantages. And yet like anyone who has ever lived real Love, he came to realize that affection only becomes real and true in the moment no advantage for self is sought thereby.” ~ inspired by Marcel Proust
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