Lose sight of the shore

“On ne découvre pas de terre nouvelle sans consentir à perdre de vue, d’abord et longtemps, tout rivage” (“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight, for a very long time, of the shore”)

- Andre Gide, Les faux-monnayeurs [The Counterfeiters] (1925)

A  favorite saying, which re-surfaced for no apparent reason the other day.

– with love for the journey.

Mixed Media Journal page by Lou Ann Granger, March 2011

11-12 September 2010, En Route to Shannon, Ireland
Letters of Transit

Know ye all by these presents that the bearer(s) of this document, Lou Ann, being held in the highest esteem throughout the realm, is hereby authorized to undertake this most auspicious and valued journey and quest, and is to be granted safe passage through all lands, and cross all borders, and is to be granted such assistance as may be required.

And that all who assist her/they shall be most kindly regarded by the issuer of this document, and shall also find reward through such encounter. We thank you.

Executed this date, by the crossroads of the kingdom, by She Who Is Sought, She Who May Be Found, and All the Ones Within.

Armed with my Letters of Transit, I begin my journey to Ireland. I set my intention based on a quote from Phil Cousineau in The Art of Pilgrimage: “Uncover what you long for, and you’ll discover who you are.”

– with love for the journey.

Journal page by Lou Ann Granger, September 2010

I sift through memories and longings and try to discern my intentions for Turkey.

What do I hope to see and do and feel?  Not enough time to fully explore and discover.  I try to send my spirit ahead on this journey so that it will be waiting for me when I arrive.

Leander swimming the Hellespont, Achilles fighting at Troy, Alexander’s armies crossing the Phrygian plain, Artemis holding court at her temple, Crusaders besieging castles, Christians hiding in Cappadoccia, and Rumi teaching in Konya.  Antony and Cleopatra at Selcuk, and Paul preaching to the Ephesians.

This magic land, criss-crossed by the paths of invaders and traders.  Home of long-forgotten peoples and kingdoms, with only fragments of myths and stories surviving.  A turquoise sea and barren landscapes.

I uncover a few words and symbols, but intentions lie hidden behind the mist and fog of longing for now.  Protected beneath layers of yearning.  They will be revealed in due course.  And I will arrive when I arrive.

– with love for the journey.

Visual Journal page by Lou Ann Granger

Uncover what you long for, and you will discover who you are.
- Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgimage

I don’t know where the wanderlust comes from, just that it has always been part of me.  I believe it comes from the ancestors, who traveled great distances searching for ‘home’.  I search for my own place in the universe, knowing that the answers are not found in any specific place or sacred site.  Just that there is a need to observe many places in the world from many vantage points, and only then to have a slight glimmer of understanding.  And so I venture forth on yet another journey.

I know beforehand, that it still won’t be enough.  But, I am not satisfied where I am and I am restless.

– with love for the journey

Visual journal page by Lou Ann Granger

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, Worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times.
Come, yet again, come, come.
– Rumi

Ah, the wisdom of the Sufi mystic Rumi.  I have much more to say about the love poetry of this long-ago poet.  But not just yet.

– with love for the journey

Visual journal page by Lou Ann Granger

Somewhere at the crossroads, one finds the Wanderlust Cafe.  A meeting place, a place of respite, a  place to have some exotic tea or a stiff drink, eat fruits and simple food, a place to stow your pack in a safe corner, or lay out a few trade goods for sale.  Listen to foreign tongues, write or sketch in your journal, argue philosophy, send postcards and file dispatches, or just sit and dream.  Send some emails (though we can’t guarantee the internet is working, shrug).

There’s spies and smugglers and adventurers and artists and all other sorts of low-lifes.   Fortunetellers.  Bards.  Poets.  Pilgrims.  Gods and goddesses in disguise.  One never knows.

Where is it?  Along the Silk Road, off the Barbary Coast, on a Greek island somewhere near Delphi or Shangri-La.  Hard to find, hard to miss.  Under the shade of a centuries-old mango tree.  Adorned by long-limbed descendants of Egyptian temple cats.  A place to tie up the camels and the horses and dust off your fedora.  Swap some stories, or some lies.  Hatch a conspiracy.  Dance if you wish.  Scream if you need to.  Love if you dare.

Welcome!

- with love for the journey

Visual Journal page by Lou Ann Granger