Zigzag back through these states

I'm aboard the train and I choke the shaking of my hands with a solid four hours of "Rome". I'm on a fifteen-day rail pass to see Taylor and Phil's wedding in Jacksonville, visit Christina Schafer in Miami, see Duke Divinity School, Candler School of Theology, Boston University, and Emerson College before I join Rachel on the peace pilgrimage for a few days before hopping the train back to DC, working for a week before I move out during the weekend, live as a wanderer for a few days and then fly to Dublin. Yeah...

So while I hop public transit to Union Station in DC, I'm carting as many of my worldly possessions as I can fit into my big, blue duffel bag, and I'm a mix of afraid and sad. Afraid because I'm moving too fast, am starting so much over, don't have much money, sad because I'm leaving my church, my friends, and I've packed up so many of my favorite things to not see them for six months.

But Taylor is beautiful and she and Phil look iconic, the rower and frisbee player like the strong, smiling figures on top of the cake. Mr. Bayer plays a beautiful "Be Thou My Vision", his folksy voice sliding cordially over everything, and he backs me up on "Your Love is Extravagant," me on guitar, him on mandolin, my parents on BGVs. Later, Christina and I make Cuban Coladas by pouring a tiny bit of coffee into sugar, making a paste, then pouring the rest in. Jenny comes to visit, and songs are sung and adventures are had in Miami's 95˚ Autumn.

Blessings are felt at Duke, Emory, and BU, with Sarah, Keri, Brett Fox and the camp crew, Jon Gaylord & Clare, Aaron Garner, Billy Krolick, Kasey Cox, and some dear others. I like Duke better than Emory because of its field placements and support for the arts, though Boston has a dear place in my heart and cements the discerning characteristic of this year. Film school at Emerson is great, and when I get back to DC no questions are answered, but I feel more wise and encouraged. It is snowing in Boston when I arrive and I'm surprised at the length and breadth of the east coast.

I join Rachel and the peace walkers at the home of two former nuns who provide the best food of the whole trip. People ask, "What program is she doing it with?" in the same way that they ask me how Ryan and I plan to do our Europe trip, but the beauty of the Peace Pilgrimage is that there is no program, no hierarchy. Some walkers are around for the whole walk, others for only a few days, others for only a few miles. An old veteran who read about them in the paper found them and presented them with a giant peace flag, which they proudly carried with them the rest of the way. I am impressed with the people who honk in support, the housepainters who ask, "What are you walking for?" "For peace." "Right on!"

The deepest part of the walk for me is during a potluck at a United Methodist Church outside of Boston. I combine two thoughts: Adam, the brother of one of my youth, being killed in Iraq and the first time I thought of being anti-war; and Werner Herzog, director of "Rescue Dawn", having his actors wade through dangerous rivers and actually eat maggots because, in an age of digital effects, he "wanted audiences to be able to trust their eyes again." When I see bombs going off above Baghdad, it's so often just nightvision fireworks to me. People are being killed, families are huddled in their homes fearing a miss-strike, and it's entertainment to me. I want to be able to trust my eyes again. I want to be able to see war and let my heart go out in prayer for those on both sides. The man after me was shaken up and spoke of news as "info-tainment" and how so few of us feel the actual cost of war, little did I know it was his job to survey the battlefields of Desert Storm directly after a carpet bombing.

I'm not saying that war will stop now, but rather that it's by simply breaking bread with people and having dialogue that we not only understand our differences, but also have more fun. As Christians, I believe we are called to this, to stop the idea that people in the Middle East, or democrats and republicans, or ex-offenders, etc. are somehow not as human as we are. Back in DC, sitting across from an ex-offenders in Spiritual Support Group - sitting across from some of the most inspiring, spiritual (and changed) people that I know - I feel like I have learned yet another thin place where Holy Spirit moves in the world, between our differences and the learning of something new.

Rachel has finished her walk, taken some needed days resting in Connecticut, and arrives in DC. It's good to see her.