I Become an Ex-Vegetarian
I was walking a pilgrimage--my first pilgrimage, as a matter of fact--and I was walking in Britain. I wanted to follow the "lay lines"; those mysterious "straight tracks" which crisscross The British Isles. At that time these ancient pathways seemed to be important for me personally for some unknown reason-- though I had only read about them-- so I was walking them for a little first-hand experience and maybe some inspiration or revelation.
The pilgrimage was also for "spiritual growth" since, as usual, I had plenty of time (the rest of my life), no responsibilities, nothing else in particular to do and a crying need for spiritual growth. I was making the pilgrimage in the old-fashioned, traditional way: on foot, with a few extra clothes and a sleeping bag in a backpack, a tin pot for tea or stew, a spoon and like that.
Though I had done plenty of hiking and traveling, I had never made a pilgrimage before and to make sure it was really a pilgrimage and not just a sightseeing tour, I carried no camera and said the "Jesus prayer" as I walked. That old traditional pilgrim's prayer is: "Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on us"*. (I had such a mental block against religious practices, which by that time of my life I thought of as 99% hypocrisy, that I couldn't even say the prayer in my own tongue so I used the original old Greek: "Kyrie Jesu Christe eleison mas". Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.)
I did hedge a little bit, however. I arranged with a newspaper editor in California to publish my pilgrimage adventures as I had them. I would send periodic reports by mail to a friend and she would type them and send them to the editor who would pay me for the words. But when I started walking and sending reports, my friend wrote that the editor said that my words were too religious for his travel page and not religious enough for his church page so the deal was off.
So I was on the loose in Britain with no visible signs of support, as they say; though it seems I had plenty of invisible signs of support.
Anyway, I soon ran out of money but kept walking just out of mule stubbornness. Besides, I was a pilgrim, even if I was an amateur and wasn't God supposed to take care of pilgrims?
When my last coin was spent I started to get hungry. I was too proud to beg and besides God was supposed to take care of pilgrims!
I walked from sunrise to sunset saying the prayer. I could get water from streams and gas stations or I could ask people for water--that seemed OK, but I didn't want to ask for food, so I just got hungrier and hungrier and soon began to pray harder and harder.
Two days and three nights without food and I was up, walking (and praying!!!) early in the morning.
Passing through a village, I see a bun! Someone has put a bun on a wheelbarrow and left the wheelbarrow right next to the sidewalk. Is this God's way of offering me a bun for breakfast?!
Stealing is strictly forbidden to pilgrims, of course; but the bun seemed to be for me, so I picked it up and started to eat it.
"Hey you!" shouts a voice!
Oh, no. I've been caught stealing a bun, which must have been intended for a dog's breakfast. I have disgraced pilgrimage.
I turn around. The shouter is a small boy about ten years old. He soon catches up with me. He is walking to school--I've seen other kids up, dressed and walking with book-bags and lunches.
"Are you hungry?" he asks.
"Yeah. I haven't eaten in a while."
"Don't be hungry." he says, "Take my sandwich." His mother has packed him a lunch.
"Awww...I can't take your lunch!"
"Yes, please do." He says. "I've got more and the kids at school always have enough food to share besides. Where are you going?"
So I tell him about the pilgrimage. He's very interested and after a few minutes runs off to school.
I don't really know what a "pilgrim's blessing" is, but it's something I've read about somewhere, so I mentally wish him a pilgrim's blessing if there is such a thing and open the waxed paper wrapping the kid's mother put around his sandwich.
Oh my god, it's a ham sandwich!
And "spiritual seeker" that I consider myself to be; I am naturally too pure to eat meat! For four years I've been a strict vegetarian...still, the ham sandwich looks mighty good...it smells mighty good...and besides, it's from the Hand of God (via the kid and his mom)...
I have never eaten a better breakfast!
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