Iona: The Pilgrimage Place

I traveled with 8 other women from SPU - 5 other students (two just graduated) and three "adults". The community aspect of this was challenging for me; being thrown into an intimate (after all, this is a vocational discernment pilgrimage) settings with strangers and having next to no time for bonding or establishing appropriate relational plateaus for actualizing long-term relationships (which is really the only kind of thoroughly healing relationship) was difficult, but I was still able to open up drastically more than I thought I would be able to. Also, because of our leaders - Mary - had been to Iona about three times before, she had some "ins" that got special treatment for our group (crammed, mostly, into one day).
For example, we got to explore in more up-close-and-personal detail the otherwise just-a-hint-in-the-air of the arts and crafts personality of the island. Mhairi (pronounced "Vari") is a painter who dipped into family tradition upon request: her family inheritance includes a legacy of original silver-working patterns that was valuable enough to attract the attention of big-name producers. Mhairi's relative didn't want this stuff to be mass-produced and instead offered his business, his patterns and his training to Mhairi if she would keep it small and in the family. As a result and a serendipitous twist to Mhairi's deeply-encouraging-to-the-struggling-artist-of-any-variety story, she accepted the responsibility of carrying out the original and special work of Iona silversmith jewelry and opened up shop. Well, except for the hour she shared her story with us: She closed Aosdana (pronounced "O-Shauna"), her little shop across from the Columba Hotel and sandwiched in between one of the island's two craft co-ops and another multi-purpose building, and presented her journey through life as an artist. It was incredibly inspirational to listen to her true-to-her-heart persistence, struggle with waiting for her dreams and eventually, her receiving her hearts deepest desires (as to be expected, not in a way she ever expected). Now, she owns an operates a jewelry shop which sells original, only-to-be-found-on-Iona pieces and features others artists in her modest but truly inspiring little shop. Mhairi's presentation really helped me learn what an artist actually IS and how we as artists move through the world: an artist is a go-between, someone with the gift and "can't not" to make the invisible visible." Oh, and she's the sweetest lady, too!
After this, we met with the only person in the world who has a PhD in Iona Rocks. For two and a half hours, we learned about how rocks are made, what makes Iona rocks special (they are, if you go along with scientific "findings" 2.8 billion years old), and the formation of Iona's incredible stones. And these stones really are incredible...I mean, normally you'd go shell-collecting on the beach but for the week we were there, we went stone collecting (so yes, a few of us actually DID literally have a bunch of rocks in our bags). Fiona's husband owns the pottery gallery on the island, and Fiona is a precious nerd of a lady who simply loves rocks. Our meeting place for the week was the shed outside the hostel we were staying at (since we didn't have the whole hostel to ourselves, we couldn't use the main lounge are there) and so she came to the shed (which eventually got renamed "The Shack"). She taught us basic geology and then, we walked along North Beach (the beach about 45 seconds from the hostel) and she explained the when's and how's of the placement, coloring and formation of the rocks we found there. One of the things she explained to us was the "Trash Heap". Apparently, a guy named Dugy used to collect the islands garbage and dump it in one heap at the northern tip of the island. Then, in the 1970's, Iona began shipping their garbage and waste to the island of Mull, but the collection at the north tip of Iona had become so large and such a factor in erosion control that they were never able to remove it. Today, it serves as a reminder of how human beings can scar the planet and a treasure trove for people who like sea glass and the like.
Fiona was wonderful at explaining all of this stuff about what makes Iona rocks so special. Although I'd recently come across information that leads me to believe that the earth really isn't that old, her explanations of how rocks came to be is very intriguing, even if the "when" of it doesn't square with what I believe anymore. Either way, it was definitely a treat to be able to meet such an educated, passionate lady!
After THAT, we went straight to a full-fledged tea party. Yes, the kind you have as little girls. Mary met a local lady named Jane on one of her previous visits to Iona and Jane invited all nine of us to an abundance of teas, sweets and wonderful stories. Jane is the widow of Dugy (the garbage guy!); she lost her husband and her son in his twenties on an infamous boating accident that drowned 4 men in 1999. This incident still hangs over the Iona community - losing 4 people is a lot when there are only 150 of you -but Jane is one of the brightest (blue) eyed, sharply observant, keen-spirited souls I've ever met. We heard stories of how and when the water becomes torquoise, how to take care of anxious cows, and where you can find certain kinds of birds at certain times of the year. It was unexpectedly refreshing to meet someone still that in-tune with nature and the ebb-and-flow of that world.
Our group, for the most part, met twice a day for "circle time" in the shed by the hostel. This little place affectionately became known as "The Shack" - one because one of us was reading that book and two, because it became a place of story, meeting God and, on a very deep level, coming home. Here, during our meetings, we had a "pilgrim's altar", where were were invited to present an artifact of our day, tell a story or, in my case, read a poem. Here is where a lot of the get-to-know-you happened, and I found myself not being as "different" as I'd felt. Struggles, pains, victories, and questions ran similarly through each woman's veins despite their difference in expression and I really began (though only just began) to see that my "I'm different" complex is much more in my head projecting outward than it is anything else.
The last full night we were all together was Sunday night. One of us had to leave a day early because she was starting graduate school in Boston the day we were all due back in Seattle. We went around the group and each person got asked three questions by any other member of the group. You could pass a question if you wanted, but each lay answered each question asked - and some of them were real zingers. or example, Mickey (the youngest of the group) asked me to tell about a time I had to sacrifice something and if I ended up finding it a good thing or a bad thing. Sarah Barton asked me (more fittingly than she could ever know, but Sara Ramquist knew because we'd spent all day Friday talking about this very thing) what my most favorite beautiful thing about myself was. Deb Nondorf (one of the leaders) asked me what my favorite poem I'd ever written was an why (and this is when I gave each girl the poem I wrote for her). We ended at about 10:30pm that night (usually the meetings were over within an hour) in the pouring rain.
I have yet to figure out how to express my struggle with, gratitude for and peace found in such a crowning-jewel ending of my summer and, in many more ways, beginning of new life - for life is only found in Christ.