The Spirituality of Travel
Lingering in a Cabrach cemetery as a storm moves in over Ben Rinnes
by Catharine Mitchell
It never ceases to amaze me how Scotland has felt like home to me from the first time I stepped from the plane - decades ago - and set my foot upon the tarmac. The air surrounded me with welcome - I can still feel it - like a warm hug somehow communicating "You are finally here! We've been waiting for you. You are home." I've visited many, many times since, and every time, I get that same warm feeling of "Welcome Home!"
Yes, I have ancestry in this land. Much of my DNA dwelt here. Perhaps it is that which calls. As I said to one local on my trip this year: "I just feel it in my bones." I've travelled the land from south to north and from east to west. But it is the northeast which holds me like the true north of my inner compass.
Though my genealogical research has taught me that I have deep roots in the northeast region known as "The Cabrach", it wasn't until I visited it for the first time last year that I truly felt the strong resonance with this wild and lonely land. It's generally windy here, and clouds hover even on the loveliest of days. Perfectly understandable, since this region is high in the hills. I know enough to make sure I wear lined hiking gear, and this year, I brought along a toque, even though it was only October! But those clouds in the background of the photo hold snow and they are in the process of dropping it on the heights of Ben Rinnes. Cold rain was falling as we visited this lonely, old kirkyard where so many of my forebears rest. And yet - I could have stayed here for hours. There is always a view, and it changes minute by minute - and sometimes faster.
My relatives somehow eked out a living from this land which does not suffer fools. Perhaps the whisky stills found in hidden places on almost every farm helped those folk weather the weather. I certainly knew that, after my reverie on this changeable afternoon, I had some of Speyside's finest waiting to warm me at home.
Today, the land is largely deserted, with a population of 63. The current "laird" does not seem inclined to welcome new residents - though power-generating windmills are popping up everywhere. It's certainly not a popular tourist destination, with few roads and fewer facilities. Yet as I walk these hills and breathe the air, I feel as though I am participating with the land here in saying "We were here. We are here. We are of this place. Our lives mattered, and continue to matter."
Have you ever felt this connection with place? Sometimes we have roots there, and sometimes, it's a place where there is no logical reason for us to feel as though we are home - and yet it calls us, strokes our souls, and welcomes us back. Every time. It's a mystery. It's Mystery. That somehow makes it even more holy to me. Whether I am there, or back home in Southern Ontario, this place is still in my heart. It is a part of me. And the awareness of this connection to this land and its hold on my heart is one of the deepest forms of prayer I know.
Catharine Mitchell is an avid traveller (especially to Scotland!), spiritual companion, and teacher.
