In about thirty-six hours, I will be getting on a bus with twenty-two teens and two other adults. We will be embarking on the biennial Coming of Age Boston Pilgrimage. We have been preparing for this week for the past year. Funds secured for our travel, packing lists, permission forms, reservations, itineraries planned, and deposits paid.
The last time I went on this trip, I was a lackey for Brian, the minister and leader of the pilgrimage. At the time, I made notes: cut back on free and shopping time - boys are bored; try to incorporate spirituality or at least reflection in each day's experiences; be more attendant to community building and including kids on the fringe; and finally, remember to put self in youth's place. These were things I meant to talk with Brian about before planning this trip. Then, last year, he resigned. The trip became my sole pervue. Hopefully, I have incorporated last time's notes in this year's trip.
I realize that I have some anxiety around this whole trip. There is the usual, what if someone gets lost or hurt? What if someone becomes seriously ill? What if someone is totally opositional and defiant? What if, what if? I think I've planned for all the emergency contingencies.
Here's what I'm really concerned about: transformation and transcendence. Will the travelers come back more enlightened, better persons for this experience? The motives for these travelers is as diverse and bewildering as each individual. Some are traveling because their parents insist they have this experience, some because their older siblings or friends had this experience and it sounded like fun. I doubt that any of them are going because they have the desire to grow spiritually and deepen their understanding of and connection to Unitarian Universalism. In the past year with these students, I have felt I have played the role of the Greek god Kairos to them. Kairos had winged feet and a septor, poised on a razor's edge, left hand inches away from the scales of Fate. The invocation for Kairos was "Grab Him Swiftly, " for opportunity does not always knock twice. Always, opportunities are sweeping past, this moment in time will never come again. Kairos teaches mortals that one must always be paying attention, always be listening for that moment when a choice is knocking on the door of your life. The knock is often no louder than the beating of one's own heart, it is very easy to miss. I do not purpose to say that I am of an age where I no longer miss any opportunities, but I can sometimes recognize the opportunities these young people are allowing to slip past.
Sure, they are all beginning to think of their futures, but they are pretty narrow thinkers in that regard. I am reminded of the words of Robert Pirsig when I think of the youth (and, yes, even myself): The truth knocks on the door and you say, "Go away, I'm looking for the truth," and so it goes away. Puzzling.
Will these youth be able to hear the opportunities that will knock on the doors of their lives on this trip? (Will I be able to hear the knocking?) Will they be able to see past the tourist's trappings and know this could be one of their life's fleeting moments of inspiration? Will they make the connection that the places and people we will be learning about share a common faith with them? Will that matter to them as we travel? Or next year? Or when they are twenty-five? Or fifty? We will all know the answers to these questions in time.
As for now, I don't know what else to do to but get on the bus.
". . . . When we no longer know where to turn, our real journey has begun." - Phil Cousineau
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