Here on this high headland the stubble glows in the evening light. At the field’s edge great bales of straw are piled as high as my house. I watched this field being ploughed and planted last autumn. All footpaths lead to the sea. I’ll watch the planting again this year, God willing.
I’m not sure whether the stages of my journey until now could be described as a pilgrimage. Pilgrims have a destination. I don’t know what that is for me. I quote T.S. Eliot again: ‘the way forward is the way back’. My way forward now is in remembering the past, especially people, friends and enemies. Mrs Llew often says: ‘God makes the best of a bad job’. I wish for peace for my friends and enemies.
Journeys imply luggage. I walk with no outer burdens but many inward ones. One by one I pray that they will be shed.
Mrs Llew and I met 49 years ago in a Chelsea jazz club. There’s a memory that needs no healing. There’s a blessing – though I do not presume upon her agreement.
I heard today that an old University friend with whom I shared a dusty bedsit 53 years ago had died. We students then were ‘seekers’, interested in Eastern religions, mysticism and gnostic traditions.
My old friend died as a Quaker. I’m a member of the C.of E. We have learned that we need no ‘mysteries’. The Gospels are our light and our healing.
I’m still on the headland with Mrs Llew, looking out – and back – to our family. There’s further to go.