Walking me home to myself

By Fiona Ball

Scotland, home of my ancestors, is where my wild heart lives.

I had planned a trip into bloodlines, exploration, community and writing over a four month time frame, traveling from one end of Scotland to the other. When I came across a link to a walk and write retreat along St Cuthbert's Way(after googling Scotland and Writing), I felt goosebumps rise on my spine. Reading about the walk was like opening presents at Christmas.

Setting my sights on the Holy Isle…..the plans took shape.

To begin the trip , my sister Suzi and I traveled through Ireland and the Faroe Islands before she returned to Australia to work and play , whilst I journeyed on to Scotland. As a beginner writer, yoga teacher, art therapist and nature nut, I had the sense this nine day retreat was made for me, and would be an experience I could learn from,  and share on my slice of heaven on the Sunshine Coast, Australia where I am fortunate to live.

The months long wait to step onto the path of St Cuthbert's Way in the European autumn stretched my time in the country of my forefathers much further than originally planned , offering me a much wider and deeper Scottish experience. I am deeply grateful for this.

The walk was the final experience of my time exploring my ancestral lands. 

Preparing to walk was both a physical and mental exercise. The hour before we gathered as a group at Burts Hotel in Melrose on the Scottish Borderlands, I wrote a small piece expressing both trepidation and excitement. Intuitively, I knew this was a soul's calling. It offered a connection to land, a community of writers, a culmination, and not just of this trip. The gathering of a lifetime of lived events had led me to this place, this time, and these wonderful women.

As we began walking, we came upon a wooden seat by the track. The inscription read "To Old Friends. "Was it possible that my new friends were also old friends? Within a very short time, it certainly felt like that. The constant inspiration of moments on the track, Cheryl's experienced, conscious guidance, and the warm, open-hearted encouragement of my fellow travelers brought me home to myself in ways that are difficult to express in words.

Gifted comes to mind. And heart, such was the depth of our time together.

Together, we laughed, cried, sang, danced, ate, shared life experiences, and wrote our way across the bottom of Scotland all the way to Lindisfarne, the Holy Isle. 

Arriving in Edinburgh on the final day of the retreat, I realized these three special women knew more about me than some of my friends and family. Exploration through the written word was the perfect platform for meaningful growth, for finding the truth that lies within, and for sharing vulnerabilities in a completely non-threatening way, with the beauty and wonder of nature unfolding continuously around us.

How did I end up with a group of spirited American women walking St Cuthbert's Way as Summer greens turned to autumn golds? I don't know, but I know it was meant to be. These moments will live in me for the rest of my days as a walk into wonder, a walk into the heart.

---

Writing from the road

---

Edgy not-quite-quiet

By Cheryl Murfin

Feet stepping onto path

Thoughts poured empty

A vessel to be filled

Edgy, not-quite-quiet

Shuddering wings

Breathy vibration

Smoke slowing above chimney

Clouds considering their day

A four-sided window

It's soundlessness

Pressing out barking dog

Broken by a screaming engine

Fire and heart attack

A razor’s edge 

Cutting through beginnings

To arrows pointing "this way."